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vodika-vibes · 9 months

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Midday Blooms - Lilacs and Daffodils

Years after the Sith took control of Coruscant, the Coruscanti Citizens live on a series of Space Stations surrounding the planet, waiting for the day when they're allowed to return home. When it's safe to return home. The Clones, elite soldiers born of the DNA of Lord Jango Fett, make up the large majority of the fighting force, though not the entirety. And after it comes out that Lord Fett had elected to side with Count Dooku, a fallen Jedi Master, and that both men were pawns of none other than Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, the men are freed from the chips, and any compulsions that would have them turn on the jedi, and the civilians they protect so ably. But even now the war rages on. The soldiers, and their Jedi Generals, rotate three month deployments to Coruscant, in the hopes that one day, they will be able to live on the planet that glitters over their heads. This is very tangentially a war story. Because I cannot write action. But I will do my best. Tagging: @starrrgazingbunny Ships: Marshal Commander Neyo x OC, Marshal Commander Bacara x OC

Nebula Space Station

Bell Manor - 10:00 am

“It’s only a matter of time,” Doctor Dee Bell said excitedly to his daughter as he waved his morning toast around over his head. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that some of the jam had fallen off the bread and landed on his white jacket. “You’ll see, Talia! Someday soon, we’ll be able to resettle Coruscant.”

Talia shook her head in amusement, “Father, you’ve been saying that for years, and the soldiers are no closer to retaking Coruscant from the Sith today then they were when I was six,”

“Bah! That’s only because Lord Fett decided to throw his weight behind Dooku.”

“We’re fortunate that the Jedi figured out his plan before Palpatine enacted it,” Talia pointed out as she took a sip of her tea, and then made a face. Cold, yuck. “Though it’s a shame that Knight Skywalker decided to throw his weight behind Palpatine.”

“He’s an idiot. And he’s on the losing side.” Her father countered, “Why, even Senator Amidala has been denouncing his actions since the day he defected, and she’s the mother to his children.”

He trailed off as he finally remembered that he was in the middle of eating, and he took a bite of his, now plain, toast. And then he paused and squinted at Talia, “Don’t you have a Salon you’re supposed to go to today?”

“...No.” Talia lied, badly. Damn it, she was hoping he had forgotten about the Cunningham Salon.

“Talia,”

Aw, man. The Disappointed Dad voice.

“You cannot skip Betty’s Salon, she’s always so happy when you go and visit.”

“Yeah, but she’s awful.”

“She’s lonely.”

“She insults Ophelia constantly.”

“Maybe Ophelia deserves it.”

“Dad!”

“What? I know she’s your friend, but she is a bit of a wild child!”

“She’s calmed down a lot since we were in Finishing School, dad. You know she’s working at her father’s company now, right?”

“Is she really?” Her father looks surprised, “Huh, well. Even so, you should go get dressed for the party. You should wear the purple dress your grandmother bought you.”

“I look awful in purple.” Talia whined, acting much younger than her 22 years.

“Nonsense, you love purple. It’s your favorite color! And you look beautiful in it!”

“That’s worse! Betty will just accuse me of showing her up at her own Salon.”

“Nonsense. Now go and get dressed.”

Talia rolled her eyes, but allowed her father to propel her out of her seat and to the stairs. She supposed there was no way out of it now. Stupid dad actually remembering shit at inconvenient moments.

Still, it wouldn’t take her longer than, maybe, half an hour to get herself dressed and her hair and make-up done. Maybe she would go all out and put fresh flowers in her hair, rather than pulling it up into a fancy updo.

She would have to send Ophelia a message. Her best friend always was good at coming up with ways to make Betty look like the hag she was.

*********

Marshal Commander Neyo was not happy.

In his defense, he was rarely happy. Being a Marshal Commander often came with more responsibilities than rights, and he had spent the last three months on rotation on the front lines.

He was exhausted.

Down to his bones.

All he wanted to do was retire to the apartment the Government gave him, and sleep for the next 9 months, until his next rotation to Coruscant started.

But no.

He couldn’t.

Because Fucking Faie agreed to a fucking Salon.

He didn’t even know what a Salon was. A party of some kind, based on the fact that he was required to wear his dress uniform.

He scowled at the pure white uniform. It was perfect, of course, and covered in medals and awards that meant jack-shit in any real world scenario. He hated it. He was much more comfortable in his armor. Hell, even his blacks would be preferable to wearing that get-up.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Faie said with a roll of his eyes. He was already wearing his dress uniform. “We’re going to be rubbing shoulders with high class ladies.”

Neyo considered shoving him out the window. He would probably get another medal of service for it.

“Lovely,” Bacara said in monotone, “Just how I wanted to spend my first day decompressing from battles. Schmoozing with the rich and lazy.”

“It’ll be fun.” Faie insisted.

“Your idea of fun used to be reading Reg manuals,” Neyo pointed out snidely.

Faie gasped, “He talks!”

The urge to shove him out the window got stronger. “Wow. It’s sad that you think you’re funny.” Neyo said.

Faie rolled his eyes again. Neyo hoped his eyes got stuck that way. “Look, we finally have rights. We might as well take advantage of them. Besides, Bly is coming too.”

Bacara’s fingers slipped on one of his buttons, “You managed to convince him to step away from General Secura long enough to flirt with rich ladies?”

“Of course not. General Secura ordered him to come.”

Oh. That made sense.

Wait-

“I thought Bly was about to rotate to Coruscant,” Neyo said absently, as though he was commenting on the weather.

“He was supposed to, but General Secura was injured, so her battalion and the Wolfpack switched places.” Bacara replied as he finished buttoning his jacket and made sure that his ribbons were straight, “Hurry up, Neyo. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can make our escape.”

Neyo was pretty sure that was a damned lie, but it was a nice lie, so he finally pulled his jacket on and started buttoning it. Stupid brothers. Always getting him involved in stupid shit.

Maybe there would be good food at this party, if nothing else.

******

Talia stepped out of the speeder and thanked her father’s droid with a kind smile. She had been in luck, mother’s lilac bush was still in bloom, which meant she had been able to weave the delicate purple flowers through her braid.

And they matched her dress and sandals. One point for Talia and none for Harpy Betty.

She cast her gaze around, and a bright smile crossed her face when she saw Ophelia waiting for her. She looked annoyed, though no one else would think that, as her friend had mastered the art of hiding her emotions behind a fan.

Her entire face brightened, though, when she saw Talia. Ophelia snapped her fan shut, and stepped over to her. “Tali, darling, I thought you weren’t coming!” She hugged Talia tightly.

“Sorry, there was awful traffic by the spaceport.” Talia smiled warmly, her gaze lingering on the crown of daffodils that Ophelia had perched on top of her neat, platinum blonde, hair. “You decided on yellow, then?”

Ophelia stepped back and twirled for Talia, showing off her vibrant yellow dress, “Betty told me that yellow wasn’t my color due to my hair,” She said, “So I decided to be petty.”

Talia’s smile became so achingly fond as she regarded her best friend of twenty years, “You’re always petty.” She said, warmly.

“Pssh. You were the one who suggested real flowers, rather than ribbons.” Ophelia grinned, “I already got a comment about my daffodils, from Anne, of course.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That it was unbecoming of me to try and show up Betty at her own Salon.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, “I could wear a trash bag, and still show her up.” She hooked her arm with Talia’s and tugged her towards the garden entrance, “It’s because she has the personality of a sewer rat.”

The pair stepped into the garden, and were immediately overwhelmed by the scent of roses. “Ew.” Talia whispered, “Roses, really? And red ones?”

Ophelia leaned in, “I heard that she’s hunting for a husband.”

“At a Salon?”

“Mm. She invited some of the men who recently returned from Coruscant.” Ophelia replied, as she cast her gaze around the garden, “Though I doubt they’re here yet.”

“Oh, Talia you made it-” Betty hurried over and stopped, her gaze locked on the flowers in Talia’s hair, and then her gaze drifted to the flowers in Ophelia’s hair, “You made it.” She finished, sounding very annoyed.

“There was awful traffic, Betty,” Talia said sweetly, like she had no idea that Betty was annoyed with her, “I suppose it makes sense with so many men returning from Coruscant yesterday.”

Betty flushed, the unheard condemnation heard loud and clear. “Ophelia, I’m surprised at you. Did I forget to mention how washed out yellow makes you look at my last Salon?”

Ophelia smiled winsomely, her yellow fan coming out and snapping open in front of her mouth and nose, “Mother made this dress for me, Betty. Surely you don’t expect me to disrespect her?”

Ophelia’s mother was a fashion designer of some renown. Well, she designed the gowns that the ladies of the senate wore on a daily basis, so “some” renown was rather an understatement.

“Your mother should know better than to dress you in yellow,” Betty sniffed.

“I’ll be sure to mention it.” Ophelia replied. “Come along, Talia. I see Elizabeth over by the tea, and I’m sure that Betty has other people she needs to greet.”

Talia allowed Ophelia to direct her over to the tea table, where Elizabeth most assuredly wasn’t. The third part of their little trio from Finishing School stopped coming to these events as soon as she turned 18. With her mother’s blessing, of course.

Talia and Ophelia hadn’t been so lucky, tragically.

“Have you spoken to Elizabeth recently?” Talia asked as soon as Betty was out of earshot.

“I have, she’s met a man,” Ophelia grinned wickedly, “A soldier, named Gree. Apparently he’s as sweet as sugar and dotes on her.”

“I’m glad for her,” Talia said loyally.

“I think it’s boring.” Ophelia whispered as she handed a teacup to Talia, and then took one for herself.

“Hm. Have you heard from your gentleman lately?” Talia asked, innocently.

Ophelia looked disgruntled, “He returned yesterday, but he said that he had been roped into something today, so I’m not going to see him until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“You poor thing. How will you survive?” Talia teased.

Ophelia shot her a look, and then her shoulders slumped, “I haven’t seen him in three months, and I wasn’t even able to greet him yesterday because he has responsibilities. It’s not even fair.”

“As if your father would okay you going to meet a man, any man, on your own.” Talia points out as she snags one of the picnic tables for them to share, “You’re lucky your mother approves.”

“Mother loves him. She’s been designing my wedding dress since I was three, of course.” Ophelia said warmly, “Of course, the moment she finds out that I’m already married, all bets are off.”

Talia laughed. She opened her mouth to say something when there was a commotion from the entrance of the garden.

*******

Neyo decided immediately that he hated roses. He hated the look and the scent. And he really, really hated the woman who dressed herself to look like a rose. Who was simpering over Faie like he deserved anything more than being shoved out a window.

At least most everyone else was dressed in more pastel colors. He saw several pinks, quite a few blues and greens, and more than one pastel yellow. This woman was the only one wearing wine red.

She stood out. And not in a good way.

“Neyo, this is Miss Betty Cunningham. This is her party,” Faie said, his glare practically screaming at him to be nice.

“Nice to meet you.” Neyo replied in a flat voice, everything about his screaming I don’t want to be here.

He took it as a victory when the red woman faltered under his unimpressed stare, and she turned to focus her attention on Bacara and Bly…neither of whom were paying attention to her.

Bly was staring at his chrono, likely wondering how long he had to remain at the party to not be seen as rude when he left. Neyo was sure that General Secura told him he had to stay for at least an hour.

Bacara, though-

Huh. Bacara was staring at something across the garden.

Neyo followed his gaze, and landed on a young woman, dressed in vibrant yellow, with yellow flowers in her hair. A young woman who was well aware of Bacara’s stare, as her face was glowing red. Her companion, a young woman in pastel purple with purple flowers in her hair, looked like she was trying not to laugh.

Neyo glanced over at his brother, who was now playing with something around his neck. That something, Neyo knew, was a wedding band. Something Bacara had admitted to him late one night, after a particularly bad day on Coruscant.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Neyo hissed, “Go talk to your wife before she implodes.”

Bacara shot him a relieved look, and slipped away from the group of men, and across the garden. Laser focused on the yellow woman, who stood and greeted him with a tight hug.

Neyo was amused to note that the red woman flushed an angry shade of red when she saw that. He decided to take a note from his brother’s book in this case, and make a tactical retreat.

Neyo found himself near the back of the garden, by a rather large, and gaudy looking, fountain. A fountain that was covered in red roses. What was with that woman?

“It’s hideous, isn’t it?” Neyo turned and flickered his gaze slightly down to regard the young woman standing several feet behind him, she smiled at him apologetically, “The Fountain, I mean.”

She stepped up next to him, her gaze remained locked on the fountain. She smelled softer, like the purple flowers in her hair. It was nice, compared to the overpowering scent of roses. “What is her obsession with roses?” Neyo asked.

She laughed, a bubbly noise that made Neyo want to make her laugh again. “The roses are new,” She said, once her laughter calmed, “Generally you can tell what kind of mood Betty is in based on the flowers she decorates her garden with.”

“And what do red roses mean?” Neyo asked warily.

“That she’s looking for a husband,”

Fuck.

She laughs again, and Neyo’s panic fades a little. “I don’t think you need to worry,” She reassures, “I think you intimidate her.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He paused, “Do I intimidate you?”

She released a thoughtful hum, and then looked up at him with a bright smile, “I’ve never been intimidated by a man in my life.”

That was…unfairly attractive, actually, Neyo decided after a moment of thought.

“Marshal Commander Neyo, of the 91st Battalion.”

Her smile widened, “Talia Bell. It’s very nice to meet you, Commander.”

“Neyo.”

Delight flickered across her face, “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Neyo.”

He decided, then and there, that he liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. Plans flickered through his mind, as his entire world shifted a little bit. “So, Talia,” He liked her name. It suited her, “What kind of flowers are these?” He brushed his fingers against one of the purple blossoms in her hair.

She considered him for a moment, and then she motioned for him to duck his head. Talia pulled a single blossom bunch from her hair, and lightly tucked it behind his ear, “They’re lilac blossoms,” She said, “And now we match.”

Well then.

A slow smile crossed his face, “If we match,” Neyo said slowly, his gaze locked on her face, “Then I suppose it’s okay for me to ask if you want to leave.”

She laughed, and leaned closer to him, the scent of lilacs swirled around them. “I know how to get to the back gate open,” Talia said brightly, “And there’s a nice little restaurant not far from here that has the best sandwiches on the station. If you’re interested?”

He was definitely interested. In more than just sandwiches. “It sounds like a good start,” He says instead, “Do you mind if I ditch the jacket at my barracks though?”

She shook her head, and then offered him her hand, her eyes sparkling in the midday sun. “Come on, Neyo. Let’s go have some real fun.”

Half made plans solidified into something solid. Something real.

Neyo smiled and took her hand, “Lead the way, Sarad.”

#star wars #star wars au #sorta regency au?#Midday Blooms #Neyo x oc

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hauntedsideofthemoon · 1 year

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BROKEN HEART OF GOLD - chapter 9; i might bend but i'm not gonna break no more

AO3 link

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

format: gender-neutral original character/self-insert, they/them pronouns are used when necessary, no use of y/n or "___", feel free to picture the character however you wish!

tags: canon-typical violence, slow burn, ocs as side characters, mentions/depictions of mental health issues

word count: 3109

________________________________________________________

Hatter settled his eyes on me and placed the six of clubs card on the table.

‘It’s already been a few days since your trial. Niragi was supposed to give a report about your performance, to evaluate if your rank can be raised. But the only thing he told me,’ his tone became a lot more serious, ‘is that you were nothing but a nuisance.’

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had forgotten about this report, and how Niragi had to say something positive about me for things to end well on my side. As if he would ever do something like that, especially after all the times I pissed him off.

‘The thing is,’ Hatter continued, ‘I couldn't entirely believe what Niragi said. I was a little impressed with what Chishiya said about you after the five of spades game, so I had a hunch that you hadn't been so bad during your last game.’

Mira let out a small giggle after Hatter finished speaking. ‘Number One is not being completely honest right now. He did not care much for Niragi's comments about you, but I insisted that he gave you a little more consideration. Then, I suggested gathering the players who were in the same game as you so we could arrive at an honest conclusion together.’

She smiled at me, which would have calmed me down if I wasn’t so confused as to why she insisted that Hatter gave me another chance. I wondered…

Hatter placed his sunglasses on the table, letting out a bitter sigh after Mira’s teasing.

‘Yes, fine, Mira is right. She kept nagging me until I set up this meeting, so let's just hear everyone's opinions already, shall we?’

‘I said what I said,’ Niragi snarled, ‘This idiot was just a burden to me during the whole game.’

Niragi’s voice was enough to annoy me, and I became increasingly angry as the words came out of his mouth. I had to chew on my cheek to prevent myself from cussing him out.

‘That's not quite true,’ Chishiya spoke up. ‘You two ran in opposite directions at a certain point, so they weren't burdening you during the whole game.’ Chishiya made sure to add a bit of emphasis to the word ‘whole’ , and he glanced at me with a mischievous smile on his face.

What the hell was that for?! I expected Chishiya to back me up, not to agree with something Niragi said.

‘What the hell do you know, huh?’ Niragi shot a hostile look at Chishiya as he snapped.

‘I was there too, and I’m giving an accurate account of what happened during the game. But that’s not the whole story. Just like in the five of spades game, they were eager to help people around them before moving forward with their own task.’ Chishiya fixed his eyes on me, ‘And you also noticed the game’s secret clue pretty quickly, didn’t you?’

I nodded at him in response, relaxing in my seat now that he finally said something useful.

Niragi sneered in my direction, his lips curling into a scornful grin. ‘You weren’t so eager to help me, though. You know, the one in charge of you there.’

My irritation at Niragi’s childish behavior got worse, and I could no longer hold my tongue. ‘Maybe I would have helped you if you hadn’t tried to kill me during the game,’ I snapped.

Niragi’s face twisted in fury as he began cursing at me, and I tried my best to ignore him. Across the table, Chishiya observed me with a smirk as he fiddled with the pockets of his hoodie. He arched an eyebrow and slightly nodded, which I took as a sign that he wanted me to distract Hatter. However, my attention was completely averted by Niragi’s next words.

‘I should have killed you myself instead of expecting that useless guard would do the job. Then I wouldn’t have been interrupted twice later on.’

Rage boiled inside me after he spoke. It was clear that Niragi was referring to when I had stopped him from harassing Usagi and the other girl that night. I glared at him and retorted.

‘Maybe you could have done it if you weren’t even more useless than me! You had many many opportunities to kill me after you picked up that taser gun, but I guess you weren’t brave enough to do it yourself.’

Niragi seemed to reach his breaking point. He jumped out of his seat, towering over me and snatching his gun from the table. ‘I already told you to stay out of my business, didn’t I? Or do you need some motivation to be able to understand this?’ He pointed the gun at me with that last sentence.

My heart was pounding heavily, but I refused to let him intimidate me. We stared at each other until Mira stood up and intervened.

‘That’s enough,’ she commanded, her voice clear and firm, causing chills to run down my spine.

‘We are here to evaluate one of our players’ conduct during a game,’ she continued. ‘Such senseless arguing has nothing to do with the point of this meeting. If you have nothing useful to contribute, then you should remain silent.’

Niragi was about to snarl at Mira when Hatter slammed a hand on the table, yelling at him to stop.

‘I am tired of listening to this bullshit, you’re all giving me a headache! Let’s just finish this as soon as possible.’

Mira sat back down calmly, while Niragi slumped back into his seat, muttering curses under his breath. Hatter let out a deep sigh and turned his attention to the girl sitting next to him, who hadn’t said a single word this whole time.

‘Akina, what do you have to say?’

Akina barely lifted her head, clearing her throat before speaking. ‘The two of us weren’t together during the game, but they protected me from Niragi when we were about to come back,’ her voice was barely audible. ‘Niragi kept bugging me with his disgusting behavior, and he spent a long time stalking me during the game instead of focusing on his tasks.’

My mouth was open in shock as I listened to Akina's words. She seemed so terrified of Niragi that it was a surprise to hear her speak against him like that. Niragi stared at her with narrowed eyes, and his expression alone was enough to make Akina lower her head again.

Hatter nodded at her, muttering an ‘I see, I see.’ He scanned each of us before speaking up again. ‘Does anyone else have anything to add?’ No one answered.

‘Then I guess we’re done with this conversation. Just one more thing, though,’ Hatter then turned to me, ‘How’s your injury doing? The big one you had when you arrived here?’

I was caught off guard by his question, not expecting him to bring up something like that. It still hurt sometimes, and some blood would seep out of the cut if anything pulled at my skin.

I glimpsed at Chishiya as I recalled the day he treated my wound. He had a serious look on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he fixed his eyes on mine. I hadn’t been able to read his expression other times in the past, but now I was sure about what he was thinking.

‘It’s fine. It has healed a lot, thanks to Ann,’ I calmly replied.

It was a lie that only Chishiya and I knew. I couldn’t show any sign of vulnerability in front of the executives, or else it would only increase the chances of them getting rid of me, especially after the argument I caused a few minutes ago.

Hatter nodded at my answer. He seemed to ponder it for a few seconds before he announced the meeting was finally over. He quickly waved his hand repeating a ‘shoo, shoo’ sound as he ordered us – Chishiya, Akina and me – to leave the room.

I strode down the corridor, taking deep breaths as I slowly calmed down. Chishiya appeared beside me, speaking with a quiet voice.

‘It was about time you read me correctly,’ he teased.

‘You're not exactly someone easy to read.’

Chishiya simply chuckled at my words. As we walked side by side, I lowered my voice before addressing him. ‘I'm sorry for not distracting Hatter as you planned. I couldn't control my anger at Niragi and got carried away.’

I lowered my head a little as I spoke. Chishiya calmly observed me for a few seconds before replying.

‘Your argument with Niragi was a great distraction. I almost thought you did that on purpose.’

I grimaced at him in disbelief. ‘You thought I would pick a fight with Niragi on purpose, just for that little plan of yours? Do you think I'm crazy?’

‘Well, you have challenged him before, so why not? You know he can't kill you,’ Chishiya had that usual sly smirk on his face.

‘And you know he's insane,’ I reminded him. ‘That morning, when he tried to attack me, he threatened to find a way to kill me without anyone knowing about it, so I shouldn’t try to play my luck with him.’

Chishiya nodded as I talked, but his distant gaze suggested his mind was focused on something else. I prompted him with a simple ‘What?’ but he ignored me, turning his attention back to the path ahead. I shrugged at his silence, starting to walk towards a different direction before he finally spoke up.

‘Come meet me at sunset. Don’t tell anyone.’ His voice was low and urgent. Without another word, Chishiya walked away at a quick pace, leaving me confused just like last time.

As I tried to make sense of his sudden request, I simply assumed he wanted to meet in his room. With some time to kill until sunset, I decided to look for Kuina, checking the spots we usually hang out at.

I eventually made my way down to the disco area – we had only been there to drink once, but it didn’t hurt to try – and scanned the crowd for Kuina. Instead, my attention focused on Akina sitting in front of the bar, with two men hovering over her trying to offer her drinks, which she kept refusing. One of them had a gun strapped to the waistband of his shorts – a militant.

I rushed over and forced my way between Akina and the man closest to her, sitting on the vacant stool. Both men were horribly drunk, and I could smell the alcohol and sweat coming from them.

Muttering some annoyed words with a slurred speech, the duo moved over to the countertop and ordered more drinks for themselves. They were still so close I could even hear some of the shit they talked about, but I simply ignored them while striking up a conversation with Akina – even though I hadn't planned anything to talk about before I made this impulsive decision.

‘Hey, thanks for vouching for me during the meeting earlier,’ I said, hoping to break the ice. A small smile formed on Akina’s lips before she replied.

‘Ah, no need to thank me. I accepted Mira’s invitation to the meeting because I wanted to repay you for helping me the other day, even though I knew that man would be there too,’ she replied, most likely referring to Niragi.

I smiled back at her and we chatted comfortably for a while. Akina was friendly and very talkative, nothing like the scared and shaken girl I had met before; Niragi probably traumatized her that night, so it made me happy to see her in a good mood like this.

Those men were still blabbering nearby, getting even drunker by the minute. One of them lost his balance, slumping over the countertop before asking the bartender for another drink. He took a sip and let out a disgusted noise, turning to his friend to complain about the taste.

‘These new drinks they brought taste like shit! Oi, Shouji, you have to get us some top-quality booze when you become one of the big guys, you hear me?’ He said.

‘Sure thing! I’ll pick the ones the ladies like the best!’ His friend added and they laughed together.

Were all the militants repulsive like this? Either they didn’t care about other people listening, or they were simply too drunk to realize how loud they were.

Suddenly, the music stopped and someone grabbed a microphone to announce it was time for games. People began leaving the disco area as they headed to the main lobby, and I waved at Akina before walking out among the crowd. Games night meant the sun was setting, so I should meet up with Chishiya soon.

I made my way towards Chishiya's room and stopped in front of his door, nervously staring at it for a moment. The last time I had been here, Chishiya had offered to treat my injury, which turned out to be a setup just so I would owe him a favor.

My debt should've been paid off when I helped him earlier, so I probably didn't need to come over; Still, the urgent tone in Chishiya’s voice had me too curious to back away now.

Could he have called me to talk about the meeting, or maybe the bug he had set up? I worried if my ‘distraction’ had been enough for Chishiya. If they ever find the hidden bug, his life would be in danger because of me.

The idea of being the reason someone is in danger always concerned me, and I unconsciously began pacing back and forth as I dwelled on those thoughts.

But something else about the meeting was also nagging at me – Did Chishiya agree to participate only to carry out his plan, or could he have genuinely considered vouching for me? Though his ‘acts of kindness’ towards me had all been fake, anyway…

The sound of a door creaking open broke me out of my thoughts. Chishiya peeked out from his room, watching me with an arched brow. I was about to greet him when he cut me off.

‘Your footsteps are noisy,’ he said.

‘Nice to see you too,’ I replied with a sarcastic tone.

‘You should've just knocked.’ Chishiya ignored what I said, stepping back and motioning for me to enter his room.

Once inside, I took a quick look around. His room was largely the same as before, except for the big mess on the table: Wires, batteries, and other small metal parts I couldn't name were scattered on top of it, like he had been doing some craft project for science class. Chishiya picked up an FM radio and sat down on a chair, fiddling with the buttons.

‘The executives will soon have a meeting among themselves, so we’ll be able to listen in,’ he said.

I watched him with curiosity as I sat on a chair next to his. My eyes flickered between the radio and Chishiya's face, noticing the same expression he had when he treated me the other day – Eyes deeply focused on the task at hand, lips slightly pursed and brows furrowed in concentration.

‘Are you sure the bug will work?’ I asked, breaking the silence between us.

‘Yes. I obviously tested it before setting it up there.’ He replied with a serious tone, not shifting his gaze away from the radio.

I hummed in understanding. ‘Where did you get a bug, by the way? If people saw you bringing something like that to the Beach, you would be deemed a traitor immediately.’

‘I made one,’ he said as though it was no big deal.

That explained the clutter of metal pieces on the table. I couldn’t help but be impressed; He seemed to have great medical knowledge, and he was also able to craft a listening device. ‘Just what did he actually do before ending up here?’ I wondered to myself.

The static noise from the radio stopped when Chishiya adjusted the tuning and he carefully placed it on the table. We waited for a long time, but no sound came from it.

It wasn't easy to hold a conversation with this man, but I still had some questions about his plan; I wondered if he would finally open up since we weren't in a public area anymore. But before I could even utter a word, the door flew open and Kuina burst into the room.

‘Everyone’s moved to the meeting room, and–’ Kuina’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of me. We gazed at each other with surprised faces, her expression showing a hint of concern. ‘You didn’t tell me they were involved too,’ she addressed Chishiya.

‘Right, I forgot to mention that. I pitched my plan after I saw their potential during our games together, and they agreed to help us.’

…What a liar. I didn't agree to help, I was dragged into this. And I didn't even know Kuina was part of it either. Still, I chose not to speak against it, as this was not the time nor place to start an argument.

Kuina sat on the bed, glancing at me with an awkward smile on her face. She looked at Chishiya before resuming what she was saying before.

‘All of the executives moved to the meeting room, and the militants have already begun their patrol.’

‘The bug and the radio are working correctly. We'll be able to listen in to their meeting as soon as it starts,’ Chishiya added.

As we waited, I began feeling conflicted after learning Kuina was also involved in this plan. On one hand, it was a relief to have a friend by my side, but on the other, I was worried that Chishiya would put her in danger somehow. Kuina had told me before that she ‘kind of’ trusted him, but now I wondered if he had also dragged her to this against her will.

Suddenly, the radio snapped to life. We heard the sound of doors creaking open, followed by numerous footsteps, some chattering, and chairs scraping against the floor. A few seconds passed before Hatter's voice came up loud and clear.

‘Good evening, everyone. We have some important things to discuss tonight. First off, I need to know which of you are running low on your visa days and when you'll be joining games again. Second,’ Hatter paused for a moment, ‘we'll be discussing the players who have recently risen in ranks, and see who is the most suited to join us as a new executive.’

#hauntedsideofthemoon #chishiya x reader #chishiya x gender neutral reader #chishiya x gn reader #chishiya x oc #aib x reader #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya fanfic #aib fanfic

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ghcstcd · 3 years

Photo

When I say “boys will be boys” this is what I mean.

#oc's #original characters #Eden shakovda #Malika Devils #Suppose I should tag my own oc's huh #devil #demon #demons #DEMONS JIM #Sorry #art #Illustration #ghcstcd

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

RAINBERRY (6)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you share a series of moments with jungkook, come to several realizations about sora. things shift...for the better or for worse? pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship, suggestive content (hooking up)

word count: 7305... yeah idk what happened lmao

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz

***

“You come here often?” A voice behind you murmurs in your ear. You nearly jump, but you already know who it is.

Jungkook. Ever since he had texted you letting you know that he was on his way, you’d been eagerly looking for him in the crowded, dim lights of the bar.

“No,” You say, unable to stop a giggle from pushing past your lips.

“Lucky for me then, huh?” Jungkook grins, his smile a little dark and a little seductive. It sends a thrill up your spine.

“It is,” You nod, “Really lucky for you. And for me-”

You internally cringe at yourself. Did you learn to flirt only yesterday? Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at you in amusement before letting his hand rest on your lower back.

“C’mon, pretty, I’ll get you a drink,” Jungkook says, “Maybe then you’ll pick up a trick or two on the subject of flirting.”

You gasp and swat his chest, “Don’t be so rude.”

Jungkook stands in between your legs at the bar, one hand on your thigh and one hand gripping his drink. You’re laughing at something he said in your ear, something funny that happened at the tattoo parlor earlier in the day-

“Mina and Mei pretended to be the other to see how long it would take for Jin to notice, since he can never tell them apart-”

“You’re all terrible, and poor Jin, you always instigate with him!”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Jungkook nearly pouts at you.

“Oh? Why’s that? Maybe I like Jin more than I like you,” You reply, leaning closer to him.

“But you still like me, right?” Jungkook says, discreetly weaving his fingers through yours. Nobody’s paying attention to either of you, but even if someone was, you wouldn’t mind.

Or so you thought nobody was paying attention to either of you.

“Mmm… maybe a little bit,” You grin, tilting your head to the side, “Tell me how cool and pretty you think I am, and then I’ll decide.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. His bright, bunny smile makes you smile. “You already know how cool and pretty I think you are, baby.”

“You could stand to mention it a little more.”

“And what about me?” Jungkook says, leaning forward, “You never compliment me, baby…”

“That’s- that’s not true,” You whisper. He’s close enough that you can see the stars in his eyes, the ridges on his plump, pouty bottom lip, the mole below his lip.

“But I guess you don’t need to, not really,” Jungkook says airily, “Not when I can tell that you think about me. Because my girl’s dirty, huh?”

You squeeze his lithe fingers tightly and he smiles at you, sin painted in the curves of his wicked grin.

“Uh-” You stammer, your face feeling hot, “You’re really cute?”

He throws his head back once more and you grin bashfully at him. “And I like spending time with you,” You say softly, looking up at him as if you want him to hang the moon for you.

Jungkook curses under his breath. Because he would, he really would.

“How lucky for me,” Jungkook says, patting your head fondly.

“Shut up,” You roll your eyes.

Before the night ends (and you endure the teasing of Mina and Mei), you manage to convince Jungkook into taking pictures with you. Mina is all too happy to take them. You don’t know how many candids she takes of you both- you get lost in his voice and the glint in his eyes.

And then he abruptly kisses your cheek, and your breath hitches with the feel of his lips against your skin leaving your heart sputtering helplessly in your chest.

Mei and Mina are both cooing in the background at their favorite couple who isn’t quite a couple just yet. Jungkook glares at both of them, only causing them both to laugh.

And then the moment is ruined by none other than Sora herself. Jungkook sighs, already knowing that you’re going to be pulled away from him. He doesn’t know why she’s even here when nobody here likes or knows her except for you. But you’re too nice to leave her out of things (mainly because you don’t want her to get upset at you for it). So Jungkook says nothing, only narrowing his eyes at her when she comes close.

She eyes his arm around your waist and how close you’re standing to him suspiciously.

“I don’t feel so good,” Sora groans, clutching her stomach. How dramatic, Jungkook scoffs. As if she’s never handled alcohol before. Jungkook looks for the blurriness that comes with alcohol in her eyes and is unsurprised to find nothing.

But perhaps his dislike for her is outweighing reality.

“Door’s right there,” Jungkook says bluntly, “And the bathroom's over there. Knock yourself out.”

He tightens his hand over your waist, ignoring your gentle swat of your hand against his chest.

“Can we go home?” Sora pouts at you, but not before sending Jungkook a glare. Jungkook already knows you’re nodding- it seems that Sora always gets what she wants.

He knows she’s faking it, and you’re too nice to see through her bullshit.

Well, Jungkook gets what he wants, too.

“I can take you both home?” Jungkook says, though the thought of being within five feet of her sends him recoiling.

“No! We can get home ourselves,” Sora nearly hisses.

“What about when she drops you off at your apartment? You gonna let her walk home alone?” Jungkook scoffs.

“She doesn’t live that far, and she can take care of herself. Or she can sleepover,” Sora answers heatedly, as if you’re not right there.

“She is right here. And I’m not sleeping over, I have an early morning tomorrow,” You say easily, feeling annoyance beginning to stir in your belly. It’s a lie, but Sora doesn’t need to know that. “Go wait at the door, Sora. I’ll be there in a minute.”

And for once, Sora listens to you.

“Jungkook,” You murmur with heated cheeks, “Maybe I can see you later tonight?”

Jungkook laughs in surprise. His girl isn’t just flirty and touchy, you’re a liar. And you’re a liar for him.

“Sure baby, whatever you want. Just please text me when you get home. Or call me and I’ll come pick you up,” Jungkook says, returning your tipsy smile. He wants to glare in Sora’s direction but refrains from doing so.

He can hear both Mira and Mei both giggling into their hands a few feet away, but you don’t seem to hear it. You don’t seem to hear anything but him.

“Okay,” You beam at him, “I’ll call you.”

By the time you get Sora in the safe hands of her roommates and tucked into bed with a glass of water, it’s nearly 1:30 AM.

“Promise me somethin’,” She says, her eyes half awake. But you can tell she’s alert and aware.

“Hmm?” You say distractedly, about to text Jungkook telling him you’re going home soon.

“You need to stay away from Jeon,” She mumbles, watching you like a hawk, “He’s not a good guy-”

“I think you’re tired, Sora,” You say, not meeting her gaze, “I’m pretty tired, too. So ‘m gonna go home. Sleep well.”

“I mean it, he’ll break your heart, you know. Don’t you trust me?”

“Sleep well,” You whisper easily, levelling her with an intense gaze. She feels herself being scrutinized as if she’s under a microscope, but the heat dissipates quickly as you turn on your heel.

Lying to her comes so easily, even with your heart pounding painfully in your ears. But you know that’s not Jungkook’s influence on you, as she might claim. Jungkook has never been a liar- apparently that’s reserved only for you.

Jungkook is only a few blocks away from Sora’s apartment building so you remain on the phone with him, giggling quietly, as you meet him halfway. He covers more ground quicker than you so he catches up to you quickly.

“Hi,” You laugh wildly, not sure what you’re even laughing at. You’re giddy just from the sight of him and you shyly take his hand in yours. He looks at you in surprise but says nothing, only rubbing your thumb with his own.

“Hey, baby,” He says smoothly. You only beam at him in response to how he is apparently unaffected by you. It’s so easy for you to push Sora’s words from your mind, when Jungkook is standing right by your side looking at you like that.

“I live kind of far from here,” You confess, “It’s like a fifteen or twenty minute drive.”

Jungkook shakes his head at you, pulling his phone out for an Uber. “I hate that you Uber home alone so often from here,” Jungkook says, “Don’t do that anymore. You’ve heard the stories right?”

“Yeah, I have,” You shrug, “I don’t really know who else I can call all the way from here-”

“Me,” Jungkook says sharply, “Yoongi. Hobi. Jin. Mei. Mina. Any of us, baby. Fuckin’ Sora should drive you home.”

“She’s drunk, she can’t drive!”

“Not this time, just in general,” Jungkook mutters, “Some best friend, letting you ride alone in a damn Uber for twenty minutes without even checking up on you-”

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore,” You mumble abruptly, “I want to go home, Jungkook. Will you take me home?”

And who is he to deny you?

In hindsight, maybe you should have slowed down. Maybe he should have slowed down. But the minute you enter the threshold of your home, your hands are warm and welcoming on his chest. You want him, you need him, you need him to hold you the way you know he wants to.

Your lips are sweet against his, trembling and burning all at once.

It’s been about an hour since you both ended up falling into your bed together, and most of that hour has been filled with you both locking lips. It had been you who had pressed your hands to his firm chest with determined eyes and a deep furrow in your brow before pressing your lips to his.

As quickly as it happened, it feels right. You’re sitting on his lap as if you belong, hips slowly rocking into his as your hands pull his hair out of the ponytail that it’s in. You sigh happily when you card through his hair, fingertips gentle over his scalp.

Jungkook loves the soft, pretty noises he pulls from you with each slip of his tongue into your mouth. You’re hungry, impatient, nothing of what his initial first impression of you was. You always want more, more, more and he wants to give, give, give.

He should’ve been more surprised than he really was when you had tugged his hand into your bedroom, pushed him to your bed and climbed into his lap. Your eyes are hooded, as you duck your head to meet his lips.

He tastes like honey and mint and something sweet. He smells like fresh laundry. You could lose yourself in him, you think, as you bite his lower lip generously.

“Baby,” Jungkook groans into your mouth, missing the warmth of your lips immediately, “Wait.”

But he moans again when you nip his bottom lip gently, coaxing your way into his mouth. It takes him a few seconds to pull away, your honeyed lips too tempting for him. You complain vocally, deciding to press your lips to his neck instead.

“Baby,” Jungkook says again, a little firmly with a tight grip on your hips.

“Honey,” You say in the same tone, your lips pulled into a pretty pout.

“Slow down,” Jungkook murmurs, gently placing you on the bed, your back against your freshly washed sheets. You hum and wrap an arm around his shoulders, eyelashes fluttering as you just watch him. Jungkook looks so good above you, lips perfectly pink and pillowy… You’re tempted to lick the column of his neck, all along the swirls of ink, but you don’t.

“It’s late,” You muse, twirling his hair within your fingers. He won’t admit that he feels like putty in your arms, hovering above you.

“Great observation,” Jungkook says dryly, “Anything else you wanna share with the class?”

“Will you stay over,” You murmur, looking up at him as he lays in between your legs and dots your cheeks in soft kisses.

“You want that, baby? Pretty baby wants me to stay over?” Jungkook nearly coos at you, and you swat his hand away at his teasing.

“Shut up,” You mumble, “Only because it’s like, 3 in the morning and it would be shitty for you to go all the way across the city alone.”

“Yeah, right, only because it's three AM. Not because you want to cuddle,” Jungkook snorts.

“You’re only good for cuddling, anyway,” You shoot back, “I have some of my dad’s sweats and shirts if you want to change. Get off me, you big oaf.”

“My girl’s mean, huh?

“Oh, who said anything about your girl,” You mutter, embracing the heat in your face.

Jungkook peels his leather jacket off, but he catches your curious eyes before you turn away and all but run into the bathroom to change and take your makeup off. He’s waiting in your bed as if he lives there, waiting for you to join him.

“Why do you look so nervous in your own bedroom,” Jungkook asks bluntly, chuckling at your soft noise of offense.

“It’s not everyday I have you in my bed,” You mumble, peeling the covers back to slide into bed next to him.

“You want it to be everyday?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy,” You reply, pinching his waist. He yelps and grips your wrist loosely.

“You okay with this or what? I can sleep on the couch if you’re not,” Jungkook says, rubbing your wrist gently.

You hum, “I’m good. You good?”

“Got the prettiest girl right here. Of course I’m good,” Jungkook says, winking at you. You hide your face from him and swat his chest.

“Good night,” You mumble, “Go to sleep, stupid.”

“Who the fuck,” Jungkook grumbles into your hair, “The fuck is calling you this early, what the fuck-”

You groan, pushing your face into his chest as if that’ll push the jarring sound of your phone blaring out of your mind. Rubbing your eyes with an irritated sigh, you reach over to blindly feel for your phone on the nightstand but Jungkook reaches it first.

“Of course,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “She never misses a fucking beat does she? Even at 6:20 in the fucking morning...”

You catch a glimpse at the phone and see that it’s Sora calling you. You take the phone from his hands, letting him wrap himself around you with a pout. You run your hand over his back silently as you answer the phone.

“Hello?” You grumble raspily, voice filled with remnants of the morning.

“Hey, just checking that you were awake. You said you had an early morning today, right?” Sora's chipper voice booms into the receiver. You cringe. Has she always sounded like that?

“Yeah…” You reply, but you’re a little distracted by the way that Jungkook’s lips attach to the corner of your mouth. “Mmm…”

“You there? You falling asleep on me, or what?” Sora asks, “Always so distracted, you should seriously pay more attention-”

Jungkook hears her and glares at the phone. His eyes harden and he moves quickly, without warning you. He takes the phone from your hands swiftly as if it’s personally offended him.

“Leave us alone, Sora,” Jungkook says, steel and frustration clear in his voice, “It’s too early for this shit, go do something productive and leave us alone. ”

You watch him with gobsmacked eyes, knowing this won’t end well but unable to find it in yourself to care as much as you should.

At least not yet.

Sora’s flabbergasted screech pierces the previously quiet morning air through your phone and you wince. You knew she wouldn’t be happy, but you’ll deal with her later. When a sleepy, pouty Jungkook wasn’t in front of you already chasing your lips with his.

“Kook,” You sigh, turning your cheek to face him. He plants his lips on yours easily, pulling the words right off of your tongue and filling your mind with air.

“You embarrassed of me or something,” Jungkook teases.

“What? No,” You say sharply, eyes wide, “Why would you think that?”

“You lied to her last night and you lied to her just now. You don’t have an early morning,” Jungkook says, hands running over your cheek, “You only have me in your bed.”

“She keeps telling me I should stay away from you,” You confess, “I don’t know why she doesn’t like you, but I’ll talk to her about it later. I don’t want my best friend to not like you-”

“Is she? Your best friend?” Jungkook asks, cutting you off. Your eyes are round with confusion, head tilted to the side.

“Why wouldn’t she be?” You ask softly, “We’ve been close since college-”

“I know all the facts, baby,” Jungkook says, trying his best to not insult Sora to you the way he wants to, “I know she’s been your friend since college, you’ve seen each other at your worst, all of the usual bullshit-”

“Hey!”

“... Why do you think she doesn’t want you to have anything to do with me? If she was really your best friend, she wouldn’t be this fucking concerned or involved-”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” You shrug, “She’s just… protective of me.”

“She cares too fucking much in my opinion,” Jungkook says, “Fucking control freak. Would someone protective of you send you on a blind date with an asshole who stood you up and didn’t even reach out to you after?”

Jungkook has a lot more he wants to say about Sora and how she treats you, but he keeps it to himself for now.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Only looking at him with those disarming eyes. He hasn’t said much about it, but your gears are already turning. You’ve been growing more and more tired of Sora’s antics- mainly the way she never seems to take into account your feelings unless it benefits her. It was tolerable in college, but the more you fell for Jungkook, the more tiresome it was becoming.

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore,” You say finally, a repeat of what you said last night.

Jungkook looks at you, something undecipherable in his eyes, before nodding and quietly meeting your warm, sleepy lips with his own.

It’s been a total of thirty-six hours since you kissed Jungkook and he had spent the night with you. You haven’t had any type of conversation with him about what your kiss with him meant, what him staying the night over meant. It doesn't’ stop you from feeling giddy at the thought of him, from replaying the last kiss he had given you. From leaving you wanting more.

You think nothing of it as you cheerily buy a dozen donuts to bring with you to the tattoo parlor to surprise Jungkook and your friends. Maybe you can sneak a kiss in.

But the minute you walk into the parlor, you know something is a little off. Jungkook’s shoulders are tense, a pensive look settled in his eyes. His jaw is clenched, tongue poking his cheek.

“Hi,” You murmur, offering him the box of donuts, “I come bearing treats.”

Jungkook gives you a thin smile. He chews on his chapped bottom lip, deep in thought. You didn’t know what to expect after seeing him for the first time after he spent the night with you, but this isn’t what you expected.

He’s standing across from you with crossed arms over his broad chest. The air between you both feels cold and still, icy as you exhale. He’s upset about something, and after before you can ask him what’s wrong (before you can stop your own spiral downwards), he beats you to the punch-

“I don’t understand you,” Jungkook says, his voice perfectly calm and even. But it’s eerie.

Your heart drops to your stomach instantly and you swallow the dry lump in your throat.

“What?” You hate how soft, how weak your voice sounds. But you can’t help it, not when disappointment coats his eyes and when he speaks to you like he’s disgusted by you. You don’t understand him either. The way he switches up on you with no warning.

Jungkook takes a deep breath to tell you what’s been on his mind. Instead of the practiced speech that sounded much calmer in his mind, what comes out is-

“You let Sora walk all over you,” Jungkook hisses, “You let her dictate almost every fucking decision! She has this inexplicable hold over you, and you don’t even know it!”

Jungkook hates confrontation, he really does. But he’s at his wit’s end with you and with Sora. Mostly with you, for not seeing a terrible friend in front of your eyes even when everyone tries telling you. How can you be this blinded by it? By her?

“She manipulates you at every turn, and you just let her! And you know what, I get it- it’s hard to recognize it when you’re in it. But we’ve all told you. She’s not a good friend to you, at all!”

Your face falls, heart sinking into a black hole that begins to swirl in your belly. You can’t stand it, the fire in his eyes despite the ice in his voice. You don’t like this. You don’t like this.

“I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on listening to her,” Jungkook seethes, getting angrier the more he thinks about Sora, “She treats you like shit- you have to know you deserve better than that, right? She sabotages you every chance she gets. She doesn’t like any of us, you know that? And forget that- why don’t you fucking ask yourself why she has the opposite opinion to everything when it comes to something you like? Your fucking car, your apartment, your job, your choice in decor. Even me.”

His words make you ache terribly and you desperately need something to hold on to to ground yourself. You shove your fists in the pockets of your jacket and surely, you’re clenching your fists tight enough that your nails are piercing through the skin of your palms.

“You never question her intentions. You’ve never even dreamed of questioning her,” Jungkook continues with a cruel sneer, lips twisting into something unfamiliar that cuts across you, “You should ask yourself why. You should ask yourself by you’re always defending her, walking on eggshells around her, afraid to be in disagreement with her, when she doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

But he doesn’t stop there, “You’re so fucking naive a-and fucking foolish. You can’t see how she always has to have you in the palm of her hand, how she makes sure she’s ahead of you in life, by whatever twisted definition of that she has. You deserve better than her. And I know I deserve better than to be hidden because you’re too scared to face your supposed best friend.”

You don’t have any words. Your brain seems to short circuit at his harsh truths, unable to formulate a single sentence. Instead your hands tremble and your eyes become wet.

You say nothing. As always, you say nothing.

“You’re not gonna say anything? Not even now?” Jungkook asks, tongue pressing against his cheek.

Another five seconds goes by before you open your mouth, “I d-don’t know what to say,” Your voice is quiet, unlike what Jungkook is used to, “It seems you’ve already made up your mind about me. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Jungkook could scream in frustration. You still won’t say what’s on your mind, even when he insults you straight to your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking (mainly because you hardly ever say anything about it), despite being able to read you easily.

“I think I should go,” You say in the same soft, defeated voice, “I b-brought donuts, but umm… they’re over there. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

With that, you turn your back on him and on the tattoo parlor to head outside. He doesn’t see the trembling of your hands or of your shoulders. He doesn’t know that you somehow hold your tears back the whole way home, biting down harshly on your bottom lip enough to draw blood.

Jungkook doesn’t know that you barely make it into your apartment with his words ringing cruelly in your head. He doesn’t know that you collapse in your bed in a mess of sobs and the sound of your heart aching.

You’re alone.

It takes all of thirty seconds after your departure for Jungkook to realize the weight of his words and for your defeated, hunched over shoulders to replay in his mind like a movie. It takes another forty seconds for Mina and Mei to emerge from their respective offices (where he’s certain they heard the entire conversation) and scream at him for his callousness-

“I have never known you to speak to anyone like that, let alone the girl that you’ve liked for who knows how long! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mina says and smacks the back of his head.

“You’re an idiot,” Mei continues with narrowed eyes, “You better apologize to her and kiss her fucking feet-”

“Who else was going to tell her about Sora? She hasn’t listened to-”

“There is a way to communicate these things!” Mei says angrily, “You yelling at her like that wasn’t the move and you know it. You’re so fucking stupid!”

“Alright, I get it,” Jungkook says, equally as angry. He pulls away from both of them, not wanting to hear it from them anymore.

“That girl Sora is a fucking bitch but you’re no better for how you just behaved,” Mina hisses, “Get your shit together, Jeon.”

He knows that he was harsh, maybe too harsh with you. Looking back on the memory of your glossy eyes and sad, slumped shoulders… You hadn’t even fought him. You’d just accepted his barrage of words as fact, without even thinking to provide an explanation or a defense of yourself.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut in shame. Once the anger dissolves into hurt, he reaches a conclusion. He should’ve just talked to you rather than lash out at you like that.

You’re no delicate flower, but damn, he’d do anything to take away the broken look in your eyes.

You take exactly two days off from work to sort through your feelings and thoroughly comb through your previous memories with Sora, and subsequently, with all of your friends. You spend most of this time in your bed, under the covers and scrolling through old photos from college and post-grad life.

It’s funny- you don’t really know where your sense of self got away from you.

You’ve always approached people- relationships, friendships- logically and rationally. Or at least you thought you had. It seems like a lot of your reactions to things that may have upset you or bothered you (or lack thereof) was for the convenience of others- namely Sora.

You bury your head in your hands when she passes through your memory. How could you have let it escalate this far? Can you be so blind to someone treating you so horribly for this long? Can you excuse her behavior for the simple fact that she’s been your supposed friend for years?

You try to think back on a time when you felt like you could unabashedly be yourself around Sora without any consequence for simply existing.

You come up blank.

Logic comes easy to you. It’s easy for you to make the decision to finally speak to Sora and say what needs to be said. Especially when your other friends were hurt by her actions, and by extension, yours.

After about another thirty-six hours, you decide. It doesn’t surprise you, how easy it is to make the decision. You decide that this “friendship” with Sora isn’t worth it. Not when she’s made you feel like this for years and if she treats your friends this way, too.

You’ll give her a chance to explain, but most of your mind is set already. Considering how well you know her, you know how this conversation is going to go. You dread it, but it must be done. Even if it’s long overdue.

“I need you to be honest with me,” You say plainly, keeping your face neutral even as your heart hammers away in your chest. At least you’re in the safety and comfort of your own home, your pastel green throw pillow on your lap acting as an anchor.

Sora sits across from you, an eyebrow raised. Her mouth is twisted into something defensive, on the ready to eat you alive. How could you not notice it before?

“When am I ever not honest with you?” Sora scoffs.

“Then it should be easy for you to answer a few questions for me, and we can be on our merry ways,” You say breezily, your eyes hardened. She swallows. Good.

“The fuck you being so formal for?” Sora laughs, but her smile drops when she sees that you’re not joking.

“Why are you so mean to Jungkook and his friends? My friends?” You ask without missing a beat. You cross your arms over your chest and look at her expectantly. Your ears feel warm, but you press on.

Even if Jungkook is perhaps irreparably upset with you, you think this is his influence. Growing a spine and sticking up for yourself, for the people around you.

“Seriously? That’s what’s got your panties twisted?” Sora says, waving a dismissive hand at you, “Don’t worry about them, they don’t know you like I do- I mean who else was holding your hair back when you were throwing your guts up in college?”

“I don’t think the quality of a friendship should be assessed by how many drunken nights we had.”

“Who else was there for you when nobody else was?” Sora hisses, “I took you home when your parents left you for the holidays, I was the one who was there with you when your shitty ex’s ghosted you, god, your taste is the worst-I was the only one who ever saw you!”

You squeeze your pillow far too tightly.

“Stop holding that shit over my head,” You snap, “Those are just things that friends do. I never begged you for your support and I shouldn’t have to feel like I owe you something other than friendship just for being your only fucking friend who put up with your shit for this long.”

Before she can open her mouth to speak, you cut across her, “Stop talking about the past. College was years ago at this point. We graduated fucking almost six years ago. And even in college… you haven’t changed a bit,” You let out a mirthless laugh, “What do you have to say for our friendship right now? If you gave a shit about me, you wouldn’t have set me up with a loser who stood me up. You afraid of something, Sora? You afraid I’ve been around people who are friends with me because they actually like me, not because they get off on a weird power trip?

“Ever since the beginning, all you’ve done is push me away from myself,” You say with trembling lips, “E-everything, you’ve just… you just take everything I like and I want and completely dismiss it. It’s n-not right. A-and it took this long, for Jungkook to call it out for me to realize. This- this isn’t friendship-”

To your misery, her lips morph into a cruel sneer. “Jungkook? You went behind my back-”

“Behind your back? You don’t even have a good reason-”

“I told you, I’m only-”

“No! You’re gonna let me finish, for once,” You raise your voice, levelling her with a glare containing years worth of anger, “It’s clear, with or without Jungkook, that you’ve only kept me around to make yourself feel better. How twisted is that! You kept me down, made me doubt myself and everything just so you could feel better.”

You take a deep, deafening breath.

“I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. Even now, you can’t reassure me. Even now, you can’t call on our friendship as something fond to remember. You weaponized me for your own insecurities. Get out.”

“Get out? You’re kicking me out?” Sora’s sneer drops immediately. Maybe you’re being cruel, but you can’t take it anymore. Something passes across her face that makes you draw an ounce of sympathy for her but it evaporates immediately.

“Yup,” You say, popping the ‘p’, “We’re not friends, and I don’t think we ever were. So thanks, for bringing me back to my senses.”

And that’s that- she leaves with her tail between her legs, not pleading for your affection or your friendship. You’re grateful for that, because you feel like you might collapse in about two minutes.

***

It has been exactly nine days since you ended your friendship with Sora and exactly fourteen days since you stepped foot in the tattoo parlor. You’ve only just reached out to Mei and Mina, in between sporadic texts to Hobi and Yoongi.

It’s been exactly two weeks since you spoke to Jungkook. You miss him, you miss his crooked smirk, his bunny smile. Most of all, you miss the comfort and safety his presence brings. But you’re too nervous to reach out to him again, his harsh words and fiery eyes blinking back at you in your own mind. You’re nervous to even show your face at the tattoo parlor.

Jungkook has been receiving an earful from all of his friends since the last day he spoke to you. Hobi’s wrath, along with Mei and Mina’s wrath, is something he never wants to relive twice. Yoongi and Jin also lectured him, and he only looked at them with wide, doe eyes in understanding. Whatever anger he was holding on to has simmered down to hurt, and now he just misses you. And he very much regrets the way he spoke to you.

He winces when he recalls his cruel words, the sharp edge of his tongue that slipped out so easily. So quickly, to strike you right where it hurts. Jungkook can’t get your stricken expression out of his mind. Knowing he put that look on your face, it makes him ache. And he’s the coward, for still not reaching out to you to apologize.

He’s too nervous to face you, but he has to.

***

jeon jungkook : hi. can we talk sometime soon?

It takes you fifteen minutes to respond. What he doesn’t know is that you had panicked for ten of those fifteen minutes, nearly dropping your phone when you had seen his name pop up on your screen.

you 🧡 : hi. sure. Where?

***

You give yourself a pep talk the entire drive to the park. You’re glad he suggested a park, and a park close to your home- you’re grateful for the open area. You’re incredibly nervous to see him for the first time in a while, running through different scenarios in your head before scolding yourself.

It’s Jungkook. Even if he hurt you, it’s still Jungkook. You trust him. You want to trust him.

You spot Jungkook leaning on his motorcycle, looking like a vision in all black. As almost always a strand of black hair escapes his ponytail as he lights his cigarette. If you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t notice his nerves in the way he grips his lighter tightly.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Hi.”

You wring your hands together, gripping the straps of your backpack tightly. You’re just as nervous as he is, he realizes. But still, you stand with your back straightened, eyes wary. You glow, and despite the fact that it’s only been two weeks, he senses something different about you.

“Hi,” Jungkook murmurs, the pet name on the tip of his tongue but he refrains, “Come here. Can I hug you?”

“Y-yeah,” You nod with a small smile and he envelopes you in his arms, holding you tightly. Inhaling every bit of you that he can. He wants to kiss you again, kiss you breathless, kiss you so that you forget his cruelty.

But he can’t erase it. So he doesn’t.

“I brought blankets for us,” Jungkook murmurs, pointing to the basket, “Let’s go sit?”

You nod and follow his lead.

***

“It was messed up,” You say forlornly, “We kissed, we kissed a lot, you slept in my bed and then you yelled at me. Insulted me in your tattoo parlor. You hurt me. You hurt me a lot.” There’s only a little malice in your voice, but he’ll take it.

You’re both sitting across from each other, knees touching with open and honest eyes. You feel vulnerable and exposed around him, especially considering how your last conversation with him went.

“You should’ve just talked to me,” You mumble.

“I know,” Jungkook says instantly, takes your much smaller hands in his and squeezes, “I fucked up. I’m so sorry I spoke to you like that. You didn’t deserve that from me. You don’t deserve that from anyone, least of all from me. I’m sorry I let everything fester and took it out on you. I’m so fucking sorry. I made you cry, didn’t I?”

You look away from him for a millisecond before nodding, “You’d cry too, if the man you liked, the man you just spent the night with for the first time, spoke to you like that. In his own place of work. I only brought you donuts and you just- what the fuck? You just went off on me, I had no idea you were even feeling that intensely about Sora. About me-

“I’m not naive and I’m not stupid. Don’t take me for a fool,” You say pointedly, not letting go of his hands. Jungkook cringes before opening his mouth.

“You’re not naive or stupid, I’m sorry-”

“But… I understand, I think. You know when you kind of… know something but it takes another person for you to realize? I think I always knew how Sora was and didn’t want to face it. Or face her. For so long, it felt like she was all I had for some reason. Like even if there were others, it felt like her approval mattered the most. And I realized it was because she just always had this way of making me feel less than her. But mostly, I owe that realization to you. Even if you went about it the wrong way.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, “I’m so fucking sorry, I should’ve just talked to you about how I was feeling, rather than take it out on you. You deserve better than that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” You say, surprising him, “For allowing her to get in the way of us, for allowing her to run her mouth. For not having a spine-”

“Stop,” Jungkook says firmly, “When someone is controlling and manipulative like that, it’s hard to see past it-”

“But is it an excuse?” You wonder with a slight tilt of your head, “I let it hurt you, hurt Yoongi, Hobi, Mina, Mei…”

“Maybe not an excuse. But it makes it understandable,” Jungkook says, “All we can do is move forward right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” You nod, “I know it doesn’t really change much now, but… I told Sora I don’t want anything to do with her anymore. In fact, I kicked her out of my apartment. It was very dramatic and satisfying. Like something out of a movie.”

Jungkook laughs despite himself, pulling a small smile from you as well. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-”

“You just ended a friendship with someone who’s been around for a long time. That’s not easy.”

“It was easier than I thought it would be. Turns out telling someone to get out of your apartment after letting out about eight years of pent up frustration really is the most vindicating thing a girl can do,” You murmur with a soft laugh, “I think I’m just upset with myself that it took this long. That it took hurting you, the last person I’d ever want to hurt, to realize.”

Jungkook rubs your thumb gently, sending gentle ripples over your skin.

“I’m sorry I disrespected you like that,” Jungkook says, sincerity forming dotted diamonds in his eyes, “God, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I’m sorry I disrespected you, too. By ignoring all of the red flags, I let her get away with so much. I let her get away with her saying so much shit about you.”

There’s a comfortable pause between you both.

“I think we need to take time for ourselves,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes uncertain but earnest, “Before we start anything-”

“And who said I wanted to start anything with you,” You tease, giggling when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, “I agree… Maybe no more pet names, huh?”

“Are you breaking up with me?” He asks in amusement.

“To break up, we’d have to be together to begin with,” You say softly. Despite his own words, his own insistence that he knows you both have some feelings to work through before starting anything romantic without lingering feelings of resentment… Jungkook just wants to pull you into his lap and kiss you, steal your breath, feel your hips in his hands. You look so pretty under the sunlight, the rays brushing over your hair warmly and casting a faint halo over your head.

He drinks you in with his eyes, not allowing a single inch of you to pass him. It’s only been two weeks, but he looks at you as if it’s been so much longer since he’s seen you.

You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions around him, and this time is no different. You look like you want to eat him alive, your eyes hooded and palms hot against his. Something in you wants him, wants him to hold you close, feel his hands over any and every inch of you that he can reach.

You want him to paint you with his hands, maybe share some of that sparkle that he seems to be made of.

Your eyes linger, a soft sigh escaping your lips without realizing it. Jungkook resists a smirk, keeping his observations to himself. He catches your gaze burning through his balmy skin, on his arms, his chest, his neck…

It’s too bad. It really is.

Memories of your night together flash behind your eyelids, the way you seemed to fit just perfectly on top of his strong thighs, the way his big hands felt ghosting over you.

You force your eyes away and touch your lips subconsciously, blinking away the ghost of his kiss. Pulling your hands away from him, you offer him a contrite smile.

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook,” You murmur, standing up from the blanket. His first instinct is to help you up, but he remembers, he’s supposed to keep his hands to himself.

“Yeah. See you around.”

Jungkook’s dimples are the last thing you see when you turn your back and head to your car. You try your best not to look back at him, despite every neuron in your brain screaming at you to.

----

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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luminnara · 3 years

Text

God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much.

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting.

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean.

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin.

“...a little.”

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled.

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her.

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked.

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly.

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked.

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne.

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked.

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound.

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was.

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul.

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind.

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk.

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm.

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back.

“Relax,” Marko purred.

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care.

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous.

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand.

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined.

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched.

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him.

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge.

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway.

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well.

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed.

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal.

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin.

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others.

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh.

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor.

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her.

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak.

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat.

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food.

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened.

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said.

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other.

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them.

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

#GODDAMN SHIT SUCKING VAMPIRES #the lost boys #poly lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #david x oc #dwayne x oc #paul x oc #marko x oc #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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walkerismychoice · 3 years

Text

Queen of My Heart - Chapter 36

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: NSFW (I didn’t intend it but it just happened

Summary: Liam finally clears the air with Constantine, and we go to the Fire and Ice Ball at Lythikos, the final social season even before Liam chooses his future Queen.

A/N: Umm, I don’t even want to know how many years it’s been since I updated, but it is with the encouragement of you readers that I was compelled to finish. My tag list is probably way outdated and I’m sure I’ve missed some poeple who’ve asked to be tagged along the way. Feel free to let me know either way if you want to be tagged or removed from the list.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @jadedpixiescribbles @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2861

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

“Hello, Father.” Liam greeted Constantine as he walked into the hospital room. He noted the King's color was back to normal and he seemed in good spirits.

"My son, I knew you'd come!" Constantine reached towards Liam with arms outstretched.

Liam just shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "This is not that kind of visit. I'm here because I know... I know everything."

"What-" Constantine choked out before a coughing fit ensued.

Liam fought the instinctual urge to comfort his father. "Enough with the theatrics. I know about Madeleine...about you threatening the show if they didn't help her win...as if me choosing the woman I plan to spend my life with is some political game to be won."

"How did you find out? I gave strict orders that my demands were confidential."

Liam scoffed. "Seriously? I just told you I found out you tried to have the producers manipulate me into marrying a woman I don't love, and that's all you had to say for yourself?"

"You have to understand," Constantine pleaded. "Madeleine is what's best for Cordonia, and what's best for Cordonia is what's best for you."

"Unbelievable!" Liam felt the anger rising in his chest like a simmering pot ready to boil over. "You may have told yourself that to feel better about choosing your commitments to Cordonia over happiness, love, family... Maybe you’ve lied to yourself for so long you’ve actually started to believe it, but it's one hundred percent bullshit. I know I'll be a more effective leader if I get to choose the woman I want by my side, and that woman is Olivia."

Constantine's jaw dropped and there was a long pause before he gained his composure to protest. "Absolutely not. You know her family's history. I'd rather have you on the same page as me, but I am still King-"

"Save your breath," Liam shut him down. "You should know that your perfect candidate Madeleine has displayed some behavior quite unbecoming of a future queen, and it is all on film. I know Cordonians are generally flexible with their views on monogamy, but I don't think Madeleine sleeping with the host of the show while she's trying to compete for my affection will look good in anyone's eyes. She has been eliminated from the show and is no longer in the running. That leaves only Riley aside from Olivia, and I know you know what's going on there."

Constantine's face fell momentarily in resignation, but then he perked back up again. "Well, then you can bring back someone else. Kiara is quite lovely and is fit to play the part."

"Enough!" Liam practically shouted much too loud for the thin hospital walls. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but Olivia is stronger, smarter, and more capable of ruling a country than anyone you could hope to pair with me. You seem to forget that I am the son who stuck by you and am now the rightful and only heir to the throne. Your reign is coming to an end, and you have no choice but to accept my decision."

Unexpectedly, Constantine's demeanor changed, a sly grin creeping across his face. "My boy, I've always been a bit worried you were too soft to be king. However, seeing you stand up for yourself today gives me hope. I still don't approve of your choice, but I will no longer stand in your way."

Liam shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh, reeling from Constantine’s sudden change of course. "Bastien will take you back to the palace. We can talk more when I know it's not just the medicine that's gotten to your head."

-----

“Well, this place certainly explains a lot about Olivia.” Riley mused aloud as she scanned the ballroom. Ornate floor to ceiling windows with deep alcoves were surrounded by walls with intricate, gilded accents leading up to a hand-painted ceiling measuring at least 3 stories high. The grandeur of the space was both intimidating and beautiful at the same time, much like its owner.

“Has she shown you all the toys in her armory yet? That too says a lot about Olivia," Drake chuckled at his own joke.

Riley laughed along. “No, but she does constantly remind me she keeps a dagger hidden under her skirt. Are you sure Liam knows what he’s in for?”

"Heh. Better him than me, that's for sure. Liam's warm and fuzzy exterior can make him seem like a pushover, but he can hold his own when it matters. Olivia needs someone who can roll with her mood swings but still call her on her bullshit when needed."

"You know, I admit I had a little trouble wrapping my brain around Liam choosing Olivia, but when you put it that way, it makes sense. Now I suppose I need to find Kat so I can figure out if I need to dance with Liam or something. Ugh, I cannot wait until all these balls are over.

Drake almost doubled over laughing. "Oh, Bennett, I hate to break it to you, but this shit never ends. Next will be the coronation, then some charity gala, Liam's wedding...the list goes on. Welcome to your life as a noble woman."

Riley stared ahead blankly as a giant wave of realization washed over her. It was all so much, so fast. She'd never had time to think past the next day to consider this was all ending soon, and then what? Did she stay with her new-found family and live this life that was still foreign to her in so many ways? What about her life in New York? Sure, she didn't have much going on at the moment, but she still had her aunt Susan and best friend Sarah along with some good friends at work like Daniel. Becoming a therapist was still one of her goals, at least it was until the day she left for Cordonia. Now everything was so unclear, and she could hardly breathe.

Drake must have noticed her face looking some kind of way because he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to an open doorway to a nearby balcony. "Why don't we get you some air before you go off and do your thing for the show?"

Once outside and around the corner of the wraparound balcony, Drake pulled Riley into his chest, holding her securely, and she was almost instantly calmed. All the what-ifs fell away, and it was just them. All she needed was the be with him, wherever that turned out to be, and everything else would fall into place.

But what if Drake didn't quite feel the same? They'd been talking as if they'd be together indefinitely, but in reality, they'd only known each other two months. The anxious fluttering in her chest started up again.

Drake pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Riley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You know, we're both still half American. We can move back to the states....or uh, I mean you can move back to the states if that's what you want." His eyes darted bashfully to the ground.

Riley's face lit up, the nervous thumping in her chest giving way to excited butterflies. "I like the sound of 'we' better if that's what you really meant. You'd really move back to the U.S. with me? I mean I've hardly had the chance to think about what I want, so that may be irrelevant, but you seriously see a future with me?"

"I do." Drake smiled earnestly. "I'm sure anyone who knows me will think I've gone mad, but whether it means being in New York City and putting up with cramped apartments and way too many people, living a quieter, simple life in Texas, or stealing moments away at dreadful Cordonian events such as this, I know we can make our own happiness...together."

"Wow, the Drake Walker I met two months ago would not believe what's coming out of your mouth right now." Riley touched the back of her hand to Drake's forehead in jest. "Are you sure you aren't running a fever?"

"Haha, very funny." Drake swiftly but gently pushed Riley back again the stone wall. "I'm not feeling ill, but I know how to make your temperature rise.

"You pushing me against duchy walls is becoming a thing, huh? Must have really enjoyed the almost public sex last time."

"Possibly," Drake teased as he slipped his hand through the side-slit in her icy-blue gown, gently gliding his fingers up her thigh. Riley braced herself as Drake neared the place she wanted him the most. Goosebumps gave way to a burning need before she remembered where they were.

"Wait." She pushed a hand against his chest. "We're not exactly alone here, and we've gone to such lengths to keep this under wraps. Someone could walk out here at any moment."

Drake shrugged. "I know it may be a bit reckless, but honestly at this point, I don't care. I just want you."

Riley opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out before Drake swooped in for a searing kiss. She instantly melted into him, Drake continuing his earlier action and deftly plunging two fingers inside her, his eyes widening slightly in surprise when he noticed there was no fabric barrier to work around. A strangled moan escaped Riley's throat as he stroked the exact spot he knew always left her at his mercy.

Drake pulled back with a satisfied grin. "Do you want me to stop? Just say the word and we'll go back in right now."

Instead of answering, Riley yanked him by the collar and crushed her lips to his. Drake responded by hoisting her up and over to the balcony. He perched her atop the railing, one hand grasped firmly around her waist and the other making quick work of undoing his pants.

Teetering on the narrow ledge two stories high, Riley clamped her hand tightly to the railing on either side of her and Drake noticed. "I've got you Bennett, no need to worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm just doing my job after all," he said with a smirk.

She smiled at his reference to what was now an inside joke between them. But all joking aside, he always made her feel safe. She released her grip, flinging her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Drake eased his cock free and Riley could tell how hard he was just by sight, the skin stretched taught from his perfect proportion of thickness and length. He lifted her dress and she couldn't wait any longer. She pulled him in and he took the invitation to thrust inside her. Even as wet was she was, his size created just the right amount of fullness and friction to take her breath away.

Riley moaned and gasped with each thrust, which in turn seemed to turn Drake on even more. The thrill of being up so high with nothing but him to hold her only added to her excitement and when he began rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb that was all it took to push her figuratively over the edge. She tightened around him everywhere, her orgasm eliciting immense heat and pleasure with every pulse, resulting in Drake picking up his pace until his own release followed shortly thereafter.

Drake carefully set Riley down before putting himself back together. "I'm almost a little disappointed we didn't nearly get caught this time."

"If I don't get back in there immediately, that's still a possibility." Riley had no idea how much time had passed but it was probably more than she thought. "Fuck, Kat is going to be pissed." Riley straightened her skirt and started towards the ballroom door.

"Wait!" Drake puller her in for a quick kiss. "I love you. Just so you don't forget."

Riley rolled her eyes but smiled. "You know you have nothing to worry about. If Liam's charms haven't wooed me yet, I think you’re safe. But I love you too. Now go do your job." She smacked him on the ass before hustling back to the ballroom, Drake following shortly thereafter.

As expected, Kat was frantic when Riley found her. “Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to meet up with me twenty minutes ago?”

Overhearing Riley’s scolding, Olivia smugly sidled up next to them. “I mean, I didn’t mind getting extra time with Liam, but you know Jo and Kat and there ‘ratings’, Olivia said while gesturing with air quotes. She scanned Riley from head to toe and then glanced over to Drake on the perimeter. “Ugh, I can tell you exactly what, or rather who she was doing. Gross. I guess that just makes my position more secure, but really, couldn’t you have waited until after my ball to fuck him?”

Riley sheepishly smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress. “I just needed some air, that’s all. I was having a moment.”

Olivia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it. Although I still cannot fathom why you chose Drake, I suppose I should be a little easier on you for eliminating yourself from the competition and allowing Liam to break free of his distraction of the shiny new object.”

“Aww, Olivia, that’s so sweet. Next thing you know we’ll be best friends,” Riley replied sarcastically.

“I don’t know about friends...but I do dislike you less than the rest of them.” Olivia tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“I’ll take it,” Riley said with a laugh before turning to Jo. “Okay, now tell me where I need to be.”

Jo set Riley up with Liam on the dance floor. It still wasn’t hard to pretend to be into Liam because it wasn’t all pretend, but there was no lingering pining between them.

“Well, I spoke to my father this morning.” Liam spun Riley around and brought her back to face him.

“Finally!” Riley exclaimed. “How did that go?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it to be completely honest, but it went surprisingly well. I told him I knew everything, and he no longer had a say in my decision. He tried to argue with me at first, but somehow something I said made him respect me. He still may not agree with my choice, but I think this is finally all over! I am free to choose who I want without any threat or blackmail hanging over my head.

Riley pulled Liam in and hugged him tightly. “That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, and for all of us.” The weight on Riley’s shoulders was suddenly ten times lighter. She hadn’t let herself think too deeply about how much was at stake, but now that the air was clear, she realized how stressed she had been. “Now all that’s left is for you to tear my heart to pieces on national television, and you get your fairy tale ending.”

Liam chuckled. “I’ll try to let you down easy.”

-----

Drake stood in his usual position off the side of the dance floor. This may not be the last of these events he’d have to endure, but at least it should be the last time he’d have to stand on the sidelines watching Riley dance with someone else. He was secure in what they had, but it still didn’t stop that twinge of jealously seeing her and Liam together talking, touching, and having fun. But it wasn’t a bad thing that his best friend and girlfriend get along so well. Girlfriend...that’s the first time he’d used that term for anyone he’d “dated”, even if only in his head. It was hard to believe everything was falling into place.

Drake took his eyes off Riley to scan the perimeter. What he saw didn’t immediately register as out of the ordinary, but then he quickly recalled this person walking towards the dance floor wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Bastien, check out three o’clock.” Drake altered Bastien via his radio earpiece. “How did she get in here without security clearance?”

“I don’t know.” Bastien replied. “I’ll check with the other guys to see who let her in. Keep an eye on her.”

Drake watched in concern as Madeleine marched towards the dance floor. She’d been banned from the rest of filmed events after her stunt. Not wanting to let her cause a scene, Drake was about to stop her from getting any closer, when she pulled out an unmistakable object. She had a gun and it was pointed right at Riley and Liam.

Before Drake could alert the rest of the team, people started to scatter. He heard a familiar click and knew he had to disarm Madeleine immediately, but it was too late. A shot went off and he didn’t hesitate. Drake dove between the bullet and his two best friends on the dance floor, and that would be the last thing he remembered before he hit the floor.

#QOMH #TRR #drake x mc #ns*fw #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #my fic

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watch-grok-brainrot · 3 years

Text

A Good Sword

Written for @mdzsnet 1 year net anniversary event. Request sent in by @susuwatari-kompeito

Rated: G

Word Count: 4392

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Suibian (Módào Zǔshī), Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, OC character mentions

Other tags: Post-Canon, sentient weapons, cw blood, cw injury, Night Hunt, Yunmeng, Post-Canon, Established Relationship WangXian, Gusu, Jiang Cheng being difficult, I stan the least Lan of Lans who also happens to be the best Lan, food mentioned

Summary: Wei Wuxian is forming a golden core in Mo Xuanyu's body. He realizes this means he can wield Suibian again but Lan Wangji reminds him it's with Jiang Cheng in Yunmeng. Their help is requested to subdue supernatural disturbances on Mushan Island so Wangxian head there with some juniors. During the night hunt, they run into Jiang Cheng who happens to have Suibian with him. How will Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian resolve who gets to keep the sword?

Thank you @merelhyn and Aube for the beta!

[Gusu, Cloud Recesses]

A warm spring breeze drifted through the bamboo forest outside the Jingshi, rustling the leaves. As the wind ebbed and flowed, the rustling rose and fell, mimicking the sound of ocean waves. The soothing sound of the bamboo served as stark contrast to the stillness of the Jingshi. Cool sandalwood smoke curled up from a small ceramic incense burner, tumbling up and dissipating into the air. Lan Wangji knelt before his desk with his back straight and shoulders relaxed. A small mountain of letters piled to his right. Three stacks sat neatly to his left. He took a letter from the pile to his right, skimmed it twice with his pale colored eyes, and carefully set it in the appropriate pile to his left. The sandalwood smoke continued to rise as Lan Wangji methodically moved through his work. Only the occasional crinkling of paper and the wave-like sound of bamboo could be heard. The stillness was interrupted when Wei Wuxian charged into the building. Lan Wangji looked up at the sound of quick footsteps. “Lan Zhan! Look what I noticed today!” Wei Wuxian shoved his wrist in front of Lan Wangji. His shirt was half open, showing his bare chest, and his cheeks flushed from exercise. “Mn?” Lan Wangji asked, setting down the letter he was reading. He looked up at Wei Ying’s face and then his gaze drifted to Wei Ying's bare chest. “Feel, Lan Zhan! Feel my pulse!” Wei Wuxian waved his wrist in front of Lan Wangji’s face as he plopped down next to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji caught the flailing limb, set Wei Ying’s hand gently onto the desk, and pressed his fingers against the other man’s pulse. Wei Ying beamed as Lan Wangji assessed his pulse, feeling along the paths of the shorter man’s meridians. Lan Wangji’s qi was met with Wei Ying’s own energy and ferried to Wei Ying’s core. A golden core was forming inside his Wei Ying at last. “It’s coalescing.” “Yes! And at a decent pace too! Before you know it, I’ll be able to fight with a sword again! Are you looking forward to sparring with me?” “Mn,” Lan Wangji felt the corner of his lips pull back slightly. “Hey, Lan Zhan, speaking of swords, do you know what happened to Suibian? I haven’t seen it for months. Did I misplace it somewhere in Jingshi?” “Jiang Wanyin has it.” “What? Since when?” “When we left Yunmeng.” “Huh. I don’t remember this.” “Do you remember Jin Guangyao provoking Jiang Wanyin about the core transfer?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted up towards the ceiling briefly. “He could pull Suibian from its sheath. I remember that now! Hm… I wonder if he’s planning on keeping it or if…” Wei Wuxian trailed off as he turned around and leaned against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Lan Zhan, were you working this morning?” “Perusing correspondence. I should continue,” Lan Wangji responded as he wrapped his left arm around Wei Ying. He placed a kiss on the other man’s hair and breathed in — musk from exercising, dust from outside, pine resin, and hint of prickly spice. “Wei Ying always smells good.” The other man laughed. “You always smell good too, Lan er-gege.” Always active, Wei Ying reached towards Lan Wangji’s desk. “Lan Zhan, watcha reading now?” “We received a letter seeking help from Wuhu Gong Sect.” “Wuhu? Where is that?” “Between Gusu and Yunmeng, east of Hefei.” “What did they want?” “Disturbances on ChaoHu’s MuShan Island near Hefei.” “What kind?” “Unclear.” “Are we going to go help?” Lan Wangji waited, choosing not to answer. Wei Ying will figure it out. “Silly question. You go where the chaos is,” Wei Wuxian turned and kissed Lan Wangji. He then laughed, “And here I thought I was the chaos.” Lan Wangji huffed out a small snort. “Alright, alright. We should write back and go help out. I’ll find Chenqing and pack our stuff. You can finish your pile of letters.” “Check between the bed and the window.” “What?” Wei Wuxian hopped from where he was sitting and bounded over to the bed. “You left Chenqing there earlier in the month.” “You really remember everything, don’t you, Lan Zhan?” “No. Only if it pertains to Wei Ying.”

[Yunmeng, Lotus Pier]

Jiang Cheng snapped his head up at the sound of running. “Zongzhu! Help is requested urgently from Hefei!” A young disciple charged into the room waving a letter. “Is there the need to yell and run? Will a few additional moments change the outcome?” Jiang Cheng scolded as he snatched the folded message from the frantic disciple. “Go practice ‘Picking Lotus Roots in the Mud’ in the courtyard at one fifth the standard pace.” “Uh… One fifth?” “Do I need to repeat myself?” Jiang Cheng looked the boy in the eye. “No Zongzhu. Right away,” the disciple scurried off. Jiang Cheng watched the retreating figure and wondered if he himself could even perform the form at one fifth the speed. No matter, the boy was supposed to practice and it would teach him patience. Jiang Cheng turned his attention to the message in his hand. It was from Hefei’s Mi sect, a small sect allied to Yunmeng： “Seeking help from Sandu Shengshou Jiang Wanyin and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. Mysterious yao disturbances on ChaoHu’s MuShan Island. Hefei Mi and Wuhu Gong attempted to subdue to no avail. Many spiritual weapons were lost in the process. The disturbances have been intensifying over the past three months. The people suffer. Area sects are forced to seek aid from major sects. Hefei Mi Sect Mi Tayan” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and refolded the letter. Why can’t minor sects be more competent? He and Wei Wuxian were probably subduing yao of that caliber when they were thirteen. Then again, Gong and Mi have had decent reputations lately. Maybe he should not underestimate the yao. Jiang Cheng’s right thumb began idly spinning the violet ring on his middle finger. ChaoHu was large. Yao thriving on those resources could be powerful. Such situations would be best approached with caution. A pity he couldn’t simply ignore this. As the Mi sect was Yunmeng’s most loyal supporter, Yunmeng was obligated to help. Luckily he had at least one spiritual weapon to spare. He stood and swept out of the room.

[MuShan Island]

Dusk blanketed the island in the middle of Chaohu. As the long shadows of trees merged into deep blue darkness, a full moon rose to cast a crisp white light over the party of cultivators on a night hunt. “Lan Zhan! There’s something over here!” Wei Wuxian said as he threw out a talisman towards a large tree. They had been scouring the island since lunch time and Wei Wuxian was growing hungry. The talisman flew forward, glowed bright red, and expanded into a spiritual net, aiming to capture an unidentified target. Wei Wuxian followed his talisman attack by pulling out Chenqing, twirling the flute in his hand once to adjust positioning, and bringing it to his lips. As the high pitch trill of the black bamboo flute pierced the air, the red glow of the spiritual net flickered and flared. Shadows pulsated against the net and Wei Wuxian closed his eyes to focus on pushing his will onto the creature with his infamous demon flute. “Sizhui, flank right with your group. Jingyi, flank left with yours. Aim to subdue, not kill,” Lan Wangji instructed the group of juniors. He then summoned Wangji qin from his qiankun pouch and set about sending spiritual energy towards Wei Wuxian’s net. Sizhui and Jingyi had developed enough experience that they were leading small groups on their own in major night hunts. The two juniors directed their groups to take up positions based on the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper. Then, they all unsheathed their swords and sent them towards the being under the net. The spiritual blades danced around Wei Wuxian’s talisman. As they flew, the swords collided continuously. “PoZhangYin!” Wei Wuxian opened his eyes and exclaimed after a few collisions, realizing the clanging of the blades played out Gusu’s famous battle melody. “That’s a clever use of swords! I see someone has been teaching useful things like creativity and practical application of known skills!” “Wei-qianbei has a good ear!” Jingyi said as his sword hit Sizhui’s. “It was Sizhui’s idea. He remembered that awful blade of grass you used and thought we could do the same with our swords. We have been practicing!” “Jingyi, focus,” Lan Wangji chided, sending another wave of qin energy towards the target. “Wei Ying, do you know what it is?” “Some sort of old waterfowl yao. I can’t quite get a sense of it yet. Possibly a duck. Hey, Hanguang-jun, do you want to have roast duck for dinner?” “I prefer sampling local delicacies,” Lan Wangji responded, his voice steady as he sent another wave of energy towards the trapped yao. “You do have a point, Lan Zhan. I hear the Binjiong cakes here are good. We should give them a try.” “Mn. Focus so Wei Ying can eat later. It’s loquat season.” Wei Wuxian laughed, “Alright! Your treat, Hanguang-jun!” He turned his attention back to the trapped yao. As the nine cultivators poured their energies into the talisman and sword formation, the shadows emanating from the net began to subside. After a stick of incense worth of time, the last notes of PoZhangYin clanged from the swords and the talisman net’s bright glow softened to the dim light of embers. Anguished quacks could be heard. “Wei-qianbei! You’re right, it is a duck yao!” The noises continued and Wei Wuxian’s brows furrowed. Something did not feel right. The sound was not… Wei Wuxian cursed and bolted to the yao. He hurriedly started casting a silencing talisman while explaining, “This isn’t a duck yao. It’s a mandarin duck yao and she’s calling for her mate. He’s probab—” Something fast crashed into his back, knocking him forward. He fell, crushing the talisman net and releasing the yao inside. “Wei Ying!” Wei Wuxian heard Lan Zhan yell as energy waves from Wangji washed over him. Both yao being hit by the chord attacks reared up and expanded in size. The smell of rotting fish, stale lake water, and decaying wood filled Wei Wuxian’s nose. The two yao propelled themselves into the air, their attention diverted from Wei Wuxian to Lan Wangji. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian yelled as he scrambled up and brought Chenqing to his lips again. The strong melancholy notes from Chenqing pushed towards the yao, attempting to control them. “Sizhui, Jingyi, Bagua formation! Contain them. Vanquish if necessary,” Lan Wangji ordered, Wangji still in hand. He swept his fingers over the seven strings, sending out seven separate chord assassination attacks. The juniors took positions in accordance to Bagua with Lan Wangji at the Qian position and Sizhui at the Kun position wielding their respective qin. The other juniors’ swords wove around the two yao. Marsh, Fire, Thunder, Wind, Water, and Mountain anchored between Heaven and Earth. The Bagua formation shifted between its permutations, drawing upon these primal aspects of nature. The two yao, trapped in an ever-mutating array of sword and qin energies, struggled against the Lan sect attack at first. The female soon calmed. She flew around the male, calming him as well. They hovered in midair observing the attacks. Then, the two yao moved. The female allowed herself to get hit by an attack from Lan Haoye. The sword stabbed into her left side but seemed to do little damage. Instead, the sword became embedded in the yao and Haoye lost control of her sword. Then, the female dove for the youngest cultivator, Lan Pinshu, who stood halfway between Lan Sizhui and Lan Wangji. The male, similarly, took a hit from Lan Runchan and dove for Lan Jinglin. Haoye stood on the water position and Pinshu on fire. Lan Runchan was on marsh and Jinglin on mountain. Wei Wuxian cursed again, “Everyone be careful. They’re taking hits aligned with their nature to strengthen themselves and attacking the opposite element to counter us. The female is cunning.” Wei Wuxian gathered his qi and pushed off the ground towards Pinshu. Times like these he missed his old body. This one was still too slow and had too little reach. To accelerate himself further, he slapped a talisman onto his lower back. He was closer to the boy than the female yao. He had a chance to protect the boy if he could just move between them. The force of the magic boosted his speed, giving him just enough time to step between the yao and the boy. He tucked Chenqing into his qiankun sleeve and grabbed Haoye’s sword jutting from the yao’s side. The yao screamed, strong resentful energy burst forth from her body. Gusts of resentment whipped around Wei Wuxian and Lan Pinshu, lifting up small pieces of foliage and debris. Wei Wuxian stood firm, putting himself between the yao and Pinshu, using his body as a shield. He clung onto Haoye’s sword and sliced down, aiming to split the yao in half. The yao screeched for her mate. The male yao abandoned his trajectory, shifting his body and arced towards Wei Wuxian. In flight, his form flattened into a blade with his beak elongating and sharpening into a point. Wei Wuxian saw the male yao approach but stood his ground. Haoye’s sword cut through and broke free from the female yao as the male yao’s beak pierced Wei Wuxian’s left side, sliding between two of his ribs. Before Wei Wuxian could redirect Haoye’s sword to slice towards the yao embedded half way in his chest, a bright flash of purple accompanied by a loud pop grabbed the tail end of the yao and forcibly pulled it out of Wei Wuxian’s chest. Wei Wuxian bit down on a scream. There was no reason to scare Pinshu right now. Wei Wuxian heard his name through a daze as something zoomed towards him. He lifted up Haoye’s sword to deflect the projectile but instinct took over and he found himself catching the object at the last moment. Suibian, his old sword, rested in his hand. In his previous life, Suibian’s hilt fit his hand so perfectly it was as if the sword had formed knowing it would be his. Considering the inscription on its sheath, maybe it did know. In this new body, his hand was just a fraction too small to wield Suibian with that old familiarity and ease. Wei Wuxian tightened his grip on his old friend. “Wei Wuxian, pay attention!” The sound of Jiang Cheng yelling shook Wei Wuxian from his thoughts. The female yao charged at him with half her entrails spilling from her body. Wei Wuxian unsheathed Suibian, pulled spiritual energy from his newly forming golden core, and sliced towards the yao. After a few exchanges, Suibian decapitated the creature, its body falling to the ground with a splat. Wei Wuxian smiled, “Suibian, looks like we still got this.” He thought he felt the sword shiver in response. Looking around, he saw Jiang Cheng and the Lans had disposed of the male yao as well. Lan Wangji and Sizhui were putting their qin away; Zidian was receding into Jiang Cheng’s ring; and the juniors were all sheathing their swords. Wei Wuxian watched Lan Wangji give instructions to the five unseasoned juniors to cleanse the area of residual resentment. Everyone was safe and well. He let out a sigh of relief which turned into coughs. Blood dribbled from his mouth and he fell to his knees. As he toppled forward, his right hand shot out to support his weight as his left hand pressed against the suddenly searing wound on his chest. Footsteps and people yelling his name closed in around him. “Wei Ying!” “Wei-qianbei!” “Wei Wuxian!” “I’m ok. Just a small wound,” Wei Wuxian tried to wave everyone off. Lan Wangji knelt by Wei Wuxian and started examining his puncture wound. “I can’t believe you let that yao hit you. What were you thinking? What if it were trying to curse you?” Jiang Cheng walked up and started scolding. “I was fighting the female.” “You’re coughing up blood.” “Jiang Cheng, you try having something stab you in the lungs. I’m sure you’ll cough up some blood too,” Wei Wuxian retorted, making himself cough up more blood. “Jin Guangyao did a few months ago, remember?” “Wei Ying. Stop talking.” “Jiang-zongzhu, maybe it’s not the best idea for you to antagonize Wei-qianbei right now,” Sizhui spoke up, giving Lan Wangji nervous glances. Lan Wangji stymied the blood flow by hitting a few choice acupoints. He then disinfected Wei Wuxian’s wound with a stream of qi and sprinkled some wound sealing powder to help accelerate clotting. He wrapped his right arm around Wei Wuxian’s waist, “Can you stand?” Wei Wuxian gave a nod and let Lan Wangji help him up. He looked at Jiang Cheng awkwardly. “Um…” “I’m just here to retrieve my sword.” “Sandu?” “The one in your hand.” Wei Wuxian felt his grip on Suibian tighten. “Suibian has always been my sword.” “It unsheathes for me.” Wei Wuxian paused. What argument could he use? They both knew Suibian would unsheathe for Jiang Cheng because Jiang Cheng has Wei Wuxian’s golden core. Because it was what Wei Wuxian owed the Jiangs. Because Wei Wuxian did not believe Jiang Cheng would be able to survive without one. But that was not an argument he could make. His chest was hurting and he did not need to revisit Jiang Cheng’s reaction. “I’m taking your silence as agreement,” Jiang Cheng reached for the sword. Wei Wuxian pulled Suibian out of Jiang Cheng’s reach. “Suibian also unsheathes for me.” “Suibian was given to you as the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. You’re no longer in the sect. You defected. I should have taken Suibian with me then,” Jiang Cheng drew himself to his full height and looked down his nose at Wei Wuxian. “Suibian is sentient. It knows Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji spoke up, glaring down at Jiang Cheng. “Suibian is made from the trees of Yunmeng, its blade quenched with our waters. It belongs in Yunmeng. And it knows me as well.” “Suibian has always been Wei Wuxian’s sword. You did not take it when Wei Ying moved to the Burial Mounds. It is not yours to take right now.” “Wei Wuxian would not even have it had I not brought it as a backup to Sandu today.” “Jiang Cheng, why are you here anyway? And why bring Suibian?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Mi Tayan wrote Yunmeng seeking help. Apparently the Gong sect and Mi sect could not handle these two on their own. Suibian served as a spare since the yao had been taking spiritual weapons,” Jiang Cheng answered frankly. He then looked Wei Wuxian up and down. Wei Wuxian shrunk into Lan Wangji, hearing Jiang Cheng’s unspoken words: Your new body is weak. You don’t have a golden core anyway. You can’t use it for long. “A few days ago, I felt the beginning of a golden core coalescing.” Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this? Why would I care?” “I will have the strength to wield Suibian again. Suibian is mine.” “You can take it when you can and are willing to take the golden core inside me back,” Jiang Cheng spat. His ring crackled as Zidian sent forth a warning shock. “You know I would never do that.” “Then give me back my sect’s sword.” Wei Wuxian pushed Lan Wangji away and placed his right hand on Suibian’s hilt. “I don’t want to fight you Jiang Cheng but I’m not someone you can bully.” Zidian crackled. “Suibian belongs to Yunmeng. I will not let Lan-er or any other self-righteous, headband wearing, cultivator take what belongs to my sect. Yunmeng will not back down.” Sizhui interjected, “Wait. Fighting now is unproductive. Jiang-zongzhu, Wei-qianbei, is there no other resolution? If Suibian is sentient, can we not ask it to choose?” “Yeah! Even if Jiang-zongzhu beats Wei-qianbei, it wouldn’t reflect well on Yunmeng. I didn’t think Yunmeng would be the type to pick on someone who was just injured and without a fully formed core,” Jingyi added. Wei Wuxian scoffed, “You’re not holding back, are you, Jingyi?” “Sorry Wei-qianbei. Fighting Jiang-zongzhu right now would be so unfair to you.” “Ask it to choose?” Jiang Cheng scoffed at Sizhui. “Suibian isn’t some spirit you can just ask with WenLing who it is, how it died, what it wants. It’s a sword that has bonded with a person.” Jingyi laughed, “Well, then we just have to show if it’s bonded more to the soul or the golden core.” “And how do you propose to do this? I’ve never heard of such an assessment.” “Jiang-zongzhu, we just need to be a bit creative. Would you mind performing some initial tests with us?” Sizhui asked. “I’m not here to play games.” “We are serious, right, Sizhui? We are simply trying to apply our new-found creativity and practical application of known skills!” Jingyi beamed. Sizhui did not roll his eyes at his smug friend. “Jiang-zongshu, has Jin Ling ever spoken with you about the events that transpired at Yi City involving Xue Yang, Song Lan-daozhang, and Xiao Xingchen-daozhang? “Some.” “Are you aware that Xue Yang had Shuanghua at the time? And Hanguang-jun was able to take it from him?” “Jin Ling did mention something like that.” “Shuanghua was aware that Xue Yang did not align with Xiao Xingchen-daozhang’s world view and thus abandoned Xue Yang. I believe if you and Wei-qianbei are both able to wield Suiban then it becomes a matter of seeing if one of you can override the other’s will.” Jiang Cheng pursed his lips into a line. Sizhui added, “Jiang-zongzhu, you have the advantage here. Considering Wei-qianbei’s lower cultivation, he would only be able to override your will if Suibian is truly loyal to him. You have very little to lose.” “Fine,” Jiang Cheng scowled. “Let’s get this over with.” Sizhui then turned to Wei Wuxian, “Wei-qianbei, would you mind sending Suibian out to encircle that tree, approaching from the left, and returning it to its sheath?” Wei Wuxian performed the task. “Wei-qianbei, hand Suibian to Jiang-zongzhu,” Jingyi ordered. “Jiang-zongzhu please do the same but approach from the right.” Jiang Cheng performed the task with a bored expression. “Jiang-zongzhu, please hand Suibian back to Wei-qianbei. Now, Wei-qianbei will perform the same task as he did earlier. You goal, Jiang-zongzhu is to get Suibian to circle the tree from the other direction.” Wei Wuxian stared at the sword that was too big for his hand. Are you really mine? Or have you bonded with Jiang Cheng in the last few months? He closed his eyes, sighed, and sent Suibian flying. Suibian flew true and returned to Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng scowled, “Is that it? This proves nothing.” “There is at least one more step,” Sizhui answered respectfully. “Wei-qianbei, give Suibian to Jiang-zongzhu. Your turn to try to make Suibian fly the other direction!” Jingyi said, shaking with excitement. “Jiang-zongzhu, if Wei-qianbei is able to divert Suibian, then it is likely bonded with him more than with you. If not, then we will need to find a different way to assess the ownership of the sword.” Wei Wuxian nodded and whispered to the sword, “Suibian, you sealed for me for thirteen years. I cannot ask for more. But maybe do me a favor this one time.” He then handed it over to Jiang Cheng. Sizhui stared Jiang Cheng in the eye. “You may proceed.” Suibian flew out from Jiang Cheng towards the pre-appointed tree. It started veering right but wobbled. Jiang Cheng’s brow furrowed, driving it back on course. Wei Wuxian bit his lip, his eyes narrowing slightly, shoving his focus into the sword. The distance between where they stood and the tree was only ten zhang or so. He didn’t have much time. He could feel Jiang Cheng urging the sword to the right. Wei Wuxian shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, mentally reaching for Suibian. Suibian, I miss you. Please. Wei Wuxian could feel Jiang Cheng’s connection to the sword snap as Suibian swerved in mid-air, circled the tree from the left, and flew into Wei Wuxian’s grip. Jiang Cheng let out a startled grunt. Wei Wuxian almost laughed at the familiar sound. It reminded him of childhood in Yunmeng, of waking up to that sound and a thud as Jiang Cheng rolled off his bed. A grin spread across Wei Wuxian’s face. “Incredible! Suibian really is sentient,” Pinshu sighed in admiration. “I thought only cultivators who had bonded for a lifetime with their swords had that sort of loyalty!” “Suibian has always been loyal to Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji explained. “Its inscription is indicative of its devotion. Sizhui, Jingyi, good work." The two juniors stood up straighter and grinned at each other under Lan Wangji's praise. Jiang Cheng handed Suibian's sheath to Wei Wuxian, “Yours. Don’t be too smug. I don’t want it if it doesn’t belong to Yunmeng. And stop leaving it places.” “Jiang Cheng…” “What?” “Thank you.” “Whatever. It’s not like it’s that good a sword anyway,” Jiang Cheng said and stalked off into the darkness to look for the other members of his sect. Wei Wuxian clung onto Suibian, “Welcome back. I’ve missed you.” He suddenly lifted up Suibian and stared at the sword in awe. “Wei Ying?” “Lan Zhan, is my hand suddenly bigger?” Wei Wuxian asked, holding up a hand that once belonged to a man named Mo Xuanyu. Lan Zhan held up his hand as well. Wei Wuxian’s hand was smaller by the same familiar margin. “No. Why does Wei Ying ask?” Wei Wuxian gripped Suibian by the hilt and held out his fist out. “My hand was a bit too small earlier tonight. And now it’s perfect for my hand again.” “Mn. Suibian is a good sword.” “Suibian really is a good sword,” Wei Wuxian echoed. “Hey, do you think you can treat your poor wounded husband to some roast mandarin duck and Binjiong cakes now?” “Loquats as well. My treat,” Lan Wangji nodded once with a hint of a smile.

Author’s notes:

1) For SHL/WOH fans, I was working on this request and trying to find a place between yunmeng and gusu. I ended up seeing Hefei, Chaohu, and Mushan Island. As I was zooming out, I noticed Wuhu was a town pretty close by… so I decided to shove a reference to Gong Jun and his Wuhu singing into my story as an easter egg. I’m not sorry.

2) Poetry references: A - The name of the form JC asks the disciple to practice is 泥中采藕 in chinese. I pulled it from this poem: 元 · 丁鹤年水上摘莲青的的，泥中采藕白纤纤。却笑同根不同味，莲心清苦藕芽甜。

B - This is completely me being derp. Hefei is a location where the name fertile (in terms of soil)/fat is part of the name. I chose the sect to have a last name related to grains. And then I looked up that character in poetry to name the sect leader: 黄庭坚 (宋）嚼冰进糜餐，冲雪踏层巘

C - Since CR’s name is from a Jia Dao poem, I chose to pull all the names of the OC juniors from Jia Dao Poems as well: Pinshu is from: 《让纠曹上乐使君》瓶汲南溪水，书来北岳僧。

Haoye is per: 《上谷旅夜》月到寒窗空皓晶，风翻落叶更飕飗

Jinglin and Runchan I took inspiration from: 《升道精舍南台对月寄姚合》月向南台见，秋霖洗涤余。出逢危叶落，静看众峰疏。冷露常时有，禅窗此夜虚。相思聊怅望，润气遍衣初。

3) Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper is the big dipper. It’s common in wuxia as a formation. Same goes for Bagua. Both are daoist but so is Xianxia type cultivation. I know the Lans are Buddhist in origin but they really aren’t that way religion-wise.

4) Mandarin ducks are yuanyang and a term/symbol of a loving couple and monogamous faithfulness.

5) 滨炯一品玉带糕 are binjiong yiping (first ranked) jade-belted cakes. They’re a famous pastry/cake in the area. Idk if it’s period accurate but mdzs isn’t period accurate so i’m using it. 姥山枇杷 (mushan loquats) are supposed to be large, sweet, thin skinned with lots of flesh and super juicy. It was a good thing to include since this story is so heavily wangxian. And i don’t know if people eat mandarin ducks, but I would want to if i were wwx after that night hunt.

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 years

Text

Is this a date? (Trey Clover x Aeppermint)

An example of a snipet (short story)! This one’s an OC x Canon Character. You can ask for OC x OC, Canon x Canon (maybe-) or Me with whoever (most likely platonic), or you / your OC with my OC / Me.

That’s all!

But this is really long tho- so- take your time- ^^

=============================================================

“Aepper?”

The peppermint boy stopped in his tracks, upon hearing a familiar voice calling for him.

(Hey, Trey.)

Aepper may look calm on the outside as he smiled sweetly at his best friend, but deep down, he was freaking out.

“Hey, I know this might be a little rude of me, but, I kind of heard your whole conversation with the headmaster at the library, and, I just want to ask

could I maybe tag along to your trip to the Rose Kingdom? I kind of miss home over there...and I wanted to buy some things over there!”

Ah, yes. Aepper did ask for Crowley’s permission to go out during the weekend. Being the headmaster’s contract bound, teenage butler certainly had their advantages.

Aepper was previously planning to go there by himself but... if it was Trey...

“Um, I’m not forcing you to let me tag along, though! So if you want to go alone, it’s also fi-”

Aepper abruptly took Trey’s hand, a vice grip from him.

Trey was taken aback. “Um..? Aepper??”

Aepper blushed, embarrassed of what he has done, before immediately letting go of Trey’s hand, awkwardly scratching his arm. He nodded.

“Great! I’ll see you then!”

=============================================================

“Hm? Who are..”

Trey squinted his eyes. He was waiting by the mirror, where Crowley instructed them to be, and the boy he saw wasn’t Aepper.

A boy with raven black hair that reflected back the green lights caused by the flickering, green flame candles in the room, red ruby eyes staring back at him. Wearing a red sweater and white collared shirt, the boy resembled nothing of Aepper.

Maybe except his face.

(It’s me, Aepper. I’m in disguise.), Aepper created a speech bubble with his unique magic.

Trey blinked at him before he finally understood. Aepper still holds a criminal record. If people were to find out, he’ll be arrested.

“Ah, I see!”

Trey took his hand, completely oblivious he was reducing Aepper into a flustered mess.

“Let’s go to the mirror!”

=============================================================

“Crowley said we should be back by four in the evening using this teleportation hand mirror. Right now is..”

Trey rolled up his green jacket sleeves to check his watch.

“10 in the morning. Perfect!”

He turned to Aepper and smiled sweetly at him.

“Let’s go!”

Aepper blushed. He crushed on Trey that bad, huh? Going about the Rose Kingdom, the floors covered in cobblestone, the streets filled with boutique stores and quite isolated,

Aepper felt a little more at ease.

The only reason why his heart was beating so fast, was the fact he was hanging out with Trey. His crush. Outside. Together. Alone. Like they’re on a date.

Actually, Aepper wondered. Is this a date?

But then again, dates could be platonic, right? And he’s not even my boyfriend. We’re just friends.. Or, maybe he would confess to me soon? But, no, he wouldn’t want to confess to me, let alone have romantic feelings for me. But, there’s the possibility right?? What about....

And Aepper zoned out, clearly overthinking. His walking pace became slower, and soon Trey was walking in front of him,

but Trey himself was too distracted, quite excited on what to do first as he looked around at the stores.

Before Aepper knew, he bumped into something soft, but firm. And it was quite warm. As he snapped out of hi thoughts, he placed a hand on it, as he tries to process what was going on.

“Aepper?”

Oh.

Oh no.

Aepper bumped into Trey from behind. And what he was touching

was Trey’s back.

Aepper immediately pulled back, flustered as ever. He bowed down to Trey profusely as to apologize to him. It was so embarrassing.

“It’s okay, Aepper! It’s not your fault! I just didn’t see you there is all!”

If Aepper could do it without being already very embarrassed, he would have swoon of how kindhearted and forgiving the ivy green haired man was.

Furthermore, Aepper got a closer look at how fine his best friend was. Trey in a simple white turtleneck, with a green coat jacket over-

Trey could steal his heart without effort and without even knowing that he did.

No! Don’t think about that when he’s your best friend, Aepper scolded himself in his head, following Trey to where he was going.

=============================================================

This is not a date, Aepper reminded himself as he stepped into a small supermarket.

“Trey? Is that you??” A man around his 40s with a thick moustache, a round belly and wore and red and white stripped apron on as he looked at Trey in disbelief.

“Trey! It is you!”

“Hey, Mr Stan! Long time no see!”

The man named Mr Stan happily approached Trey, as he shook his hand eagerly.

“Man, oh man, Trey! You really grew up! Grown to be more handsome and tall, eh?”

“Ahahaha! I wouldn’t say handsome, but I did grew!”

No, he’s right. You’re deliciously handsome. Wait-

“How come you’re back home? Aren’t you suppose to be at NRC?”

“Well, my friend here,” Trey gestured at Aepper, “Ae- I mean, Abriel, has special opportunities, and was kind enough to let me tag along to come here!”

The only kindest one around is you, Trey

“Well, Abriel! Lucky to be friends with the eldest son of the Clover Family! I mean, they have Clover as their surname, what can I say?” Mr Stan bellowed, shaking Aepper’s hand.

You’re absolutely right. I’m lucky. Aepper simply smiled.

“Ah, he’s mute, so he can’t really speak.”

“No problem! Anyways, browse the store! Hope you find what ya lookin’ for!”

“Thanks a lot!”

=============================================================

Aepper was on the verge of exploding.

OKAY, THIS HAS TO BE A DATE, AT LEAST 70% OF THIS HOW DID WE WENT TO SHOPPING TO JUST SITTING AT HIS FAMILY’S BAKERY OUTSIDE LIKE IT’S A CUTE CAFE-

Currently sitting at a table, Aepper and Trey were at the family bakery of the Clovers and Aepper himself, was panicking.

This has to be a date, there was no way this isn’t.

Right?

Aepper couldn’t even eat the macrons and cake in front of him.

“Aepper! So, what do you think of my family?” Trey asked as he sips his rose tea from his tea cup, calmly asking Aepper whose heart was about to leap out of his chest.

(They’re nice. I like your siblings. They’re fun.)

“Yeah, they are. Though, they can be quite a handful,” Trey chuckled softly, and Aepper could barely hold it.

There was a raging battle between his own strong, romantic feelings for Trey at the moment, and the only thing holding him back from just glomping down on Trey was his self control which was running thin by the second.

Every trivial thing Trey did seemed to make his resolve on not being flustered around was getting harder and harder.

This was so bad.

“Hey, Aepper?”

Aepper regain his cool (barely-) and looked at his best friend.

“Do you think... my family’s proud of me? I mean, I know I’m their son but..” Trey’s voice faltered, looking down at his teacup.

Well, Trey’s parents had many things to be proud of their oldest son. He’s a talented chef, the vice dorm leader of his own dorm, upholding good virtues and so much more Aepper could list down.

(Well, I think your parents have many things to be proud of you for. But, one thing you need to know, is that your family must be happy in whatever you do. They know you’re a talented person. But, no matter what, they will always support you, physically and emotionally.)

Trey stared at Aepper, before he smiled softly.

“Wow, Aepper. I didn’t know you think I was talented,” he smirked.

That smirk,

Aepper blushed tenfold and almost choked on his own saliva, coughing violently.

“OH GOD, AE- I MEAN ABRIEL-”

=============================================================

“Well, it’s about time to go,” Trey checked his watch.

“We should get back.”

Aepper simply nodded, leaning away from the wall of a narrow street, taking out the hand mirror teleporter.

“Hey, Aepper?”

The mute boy turned to his green haired friend.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you, it was really fun. And I just want to say,” Trey paused.

Oh shit. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT-

This was it, isn’t it? The confession he’s has been waiting for? WAIT HE’S NOT READY, GIVE HIM A FEW SECONDS! HE NEEDS TO-

“Thank you for being such a kind and caring friend, Aepper. I couldn’t ask for a better one!”

And just like that, Aepper’s hopes were dashed. Crushed. This is the sin he needs to bear for all the crimes he’s committed, isn’t it?

Aepper was lamenting on the inside, but manage to muster a kind smile flashed at Trey as he activated the hand mirror teleporter.

Although he didn’t get the confession he wanted, he was very thankful he got the chance to hang out with Trey outside of NRC.

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pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 24

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: the problem with Ernesto’s murderous plans is that they tend to only have a 50% success rate. Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

“... And you killed how many Villistas?”

“Ah, I lost count. At least thirty.”

“Five, more like!”

“Shut up! Maybe some were just wounded, but I killed no less than twenty of Villa’s bastards, at any rate.”

“Sí, sí, and then you wounded Pancho Villa himself. One would think that with such a warrior among us, getting through the Zapatistas on our way here would have been a child’s play. I didn’t see you hit a single one. Did you forget how to shoot in the meantime?”

“Ah, shut up. They fought better, is all. Everyone knows Zapata and his followers are twice the mad dogs as everybody else, and I did hit one!”

“Your own shoe doesn’t count, pendejo.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You’re so full of--”

As an argument broke out, Héctor watched Gustavo sigh and fall back a few paces with his horse. His attempts at buttering up the soldiers to get any sort of useful information had amounted to nothing, when they hadn’t straight-up started an argument like that one. The only question he was able to get a real answer to was why Commander Hernández hadn't allowed them to spend the evening and night in Santa Cecilia before setting off.

“Ay, he won’t hear of it,” a soldier had replied. “He heard of a battalion that was decimated like that - they stayed in a village overnight, but turns out it was chock-full of traitors and they called their friends in during the night, and the men were slaughtered before they could grab a gun. So he’s paranoid about that.”

The expression that crossed Gustavo’s face for a moment, that of a man who just sucked on a lemon, had been enough to tell Héctor that was very much something he had hoped to pull off in Santa Cecilia. Unaware of that, the man - “call me Chucho”, he had said - had added: “It’s a myth if you ask me, more likely all of them just got sick of this shit and deserted.”

“Can’t blame them,” someone had muttered only a couple of paces behind Héctor, only to be immediately shushed by no less than ten of his comrades.

“Shut up, idiota!”

“You want the commander to nail you to a telegraph pole or what!”

“He’s off ahead scouting anyway,” the man had muttered, and promptly fallen in a sullen silence. Morale was low, Héctor had quickly realized; he had been aware of the fact the war was not going all that well for the Federal Army, but this was the first time he saw its effects on the troops. All things considered, he got the distinct feeling most of those men didn’t want to be there a hell of a lot more than Ernesto had.

Only that Ernesto had seized his moment to escape, and they were still stuck.

“-- shoot that cigarette off your mouth from a hundred paces, and if you don't believe--”

“Amazing, think you can hit the men attached to the cigarettes every once in a while, too?”

“If what you're asking is a bullet through your brain--!”

“Brain might be a big word there…”

“Shut your mouth, Nachito!”

As the argument continued, Héctor did his best to tune it out and reached into his saddle bag for the water. They had been warned the water rations were scarce and he had been trying not to drink too much, but they had been riding under the sun for hours, he’d been sweating half his body weight, and there seemed to be no moisture left in his mouth. At least the sun was starting to get lower at the horizon, evening not too far away.

Héctor wondered how they’d spend the night. Would they make camp? Just sit around fires, rifle in hand, and try to shut their eyes for a few hours before they kept marching on? Surely someone would stand guard, were the revolutionaries really going to catch up as Gustavo seemed to think they would? Would there be a battle? How many would come? Or would they decided a few men off Santa Cecilia was not a big enough loss to bother--

“Water?”

“Huh?”

Héctor looked up to see a man riding next to him, holding out a flask of water. He seemed about his age, maybe a little younger, an attempt at a mustache on his upper lip and an uniform almost as ill-fitting as his own. He tried to smile, grimaced at the heat, and awkwardly avoided his gaze at the same time.

“You, uh. If you want water.”

“Ah. I’m getting mine, don’t worry. I don’t want to take your ration.”

“... Right,” the young man muttered, and kept riding by his side. Héctor took a couple of sips from his flask, just enough to make his mouth feel a little less like an entire desert had moved in, and glanced back towards the man. He seemed to hesitate, but as Héctor rather expected he finally spoke again. “So you are, uh, a novice?”

“I… I was, I suppose. I suspect leaving the parish to join the Federal Army means that’s going to lapse,” he said, trying to smile like the idea was funny. The man didn’t seem amused, and Héctor cleared his throat. “... My name’s Héctor, by the way.”

A nod. “Alejandro,” the man replied. “Look, me and the others - several of the others, we… I mean, back there, when the commander shot the gringo-- I mean, the priest, I would have never,” he finally blurted out, holding onto the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Ah.

Héctor had barely looked at Father John’s body on the cobblestones, focused as he was on the fact that man had Miguel, but the mental image had still been lingering in the back of his mind ever since they left. The pool of blood, the way it got into every crack, the sticky warmth of it through his robes when his knees hit the ground.

Some men had taken him away to get him help, he knew, and the Federales had allowed it, but Héctor had no idea if any help would even be possible. He was probably dead, for trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, for trying to save Miguel.

He found his martyrdom, at last.

Something in Héctor’s chest ached; the gringo was not a simple man to get along with, easy to despise and quick to judge, but he had tried to do the right thing and he did not deserve a bullet for it. Perhaps taking note of his pained expression, the young man fidgeted.

“Maybe God will save him,” he murmured, and swallowed. “I… we wanted to ask… do you think God will curse us for this? For shooting down one of His servants?”

Why ask me, Héctor almost replied, but then again it was the sort of question one would ask to a priest and he was the closest thing to one those men had at hand. Part of him wanted to believe God would indeed curse them, all of them, Huerta’s damn Federales - but as he looked around himself now, those men who’d seemed to terrifying looked so tired, dirty from days of travel, many of them young and probably wearing their uniforms no more willingly than he did.

How many had been taken the way they were in the first place?

“There is no mercy in war,” he remembered Ernesto saying when he was found out and they confronted him. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind.”

“... The Church says that as long as there is regret, all can be forgiven,” he found himself saying instead. Alejandro nodded, but he looked far from reassured and just fell silent as they rode on towards the top of a hill they were never going to get past.

***

“Those bastards were supposed to come through San Luz!”

Arms still aching and palms burning from the friction with the rope, Sofía made it down the belltower and to the churchyard just on time to hear the frustrated shout. Right before the church were maybe twenty men and women on horses, all of them armed, being filled in on what had happened by a few very confused bystanders who likely had no idea what was going on but were relieved that these new visitors were not Federales at least.

As Sofía approached with quick steps, the man turned his horse to face her. “Gustavo--” he began, and trailed off. He blinked. “... You’re not Gustavo.”

Sharp as a knife, this one. Nice to see we’re in good hands.

“Gustavo went with them. He told me to call for you,” she added, pointing up to the belltower, where the bell still swung slowly. “He said I should tell you to follow the trail.”

The man seemed taken aback, then he nodded. “Very well. What direction did they--”

“They took the road west, through the hills.”

Imelda’s voice rang out suddenly, causing several heads to turn. She was riding an aging horse that had belonged to her family for years, but that was not what made Sofía raise an eyebrow.

The robes were gone, replaced by a gown and a blouse, a belt at her waist with ammunition and the pistol they had taken from Ernesto’s room. Her head was uncovered, her jaw set; the man stared at her a few moments before he tilted his head in recognition.

“... Sister. I was hoping to meet you again in better circumstances than this.”

“José. You probably already gathered as much, but the Federales that took our men outnumber you, at least three to one. I assume you could use an extra pair of hands.”

“We could,” one of the women spoke up. She spurred her own horse closer to Imelda, a rifle slung over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back, showing a still healing cut on the side of her head. “How much practice did you get with that pistol?”

Imelda met her gaze. “Not much. I’ll have to hope what practice I could get will be enough.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I die. Not the first or last.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. We’ll need someone to tell us what men not to shoot, after all, in case Gustavo can’t,” she added, and turned to look back at the man she’d called José. At this point, Sofía suspected she may have been mistaken in her assumption he was the leader there. “They can’t have gone very far, with the supplies and carts they took. We can catch up with them. Gabriel, you and I go ahead to dispatch anyone guarding the back of the column. If we don’t take them by surprise we’re fucked.”

“Well, you heard her, everyone. Let’s get going!”

As they kicked the flanks of their horses to get moving, Imelda looked back, and her gaze met Sofía’s. “... Sister,” she said, “I should mention this marks the end of my novitiate.”

Something gripping her throat - don’t die out there, she wanted to say - Sofía managed a smile. Trying to talk Imelda out of her plan, she knew, would be absolutely fruitless. “About time,” she said instead. “Go take back your stupid fiancé.”

The smile Imelda gave was sharp, telling her clearly that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that Sofía had doubted that even for a moment.

“You can be certain I will,” she said, and kicked the flanks of her horse, riding off.

“Ay, a novio,” one of the men muttered as he rode past. “And my heart breaks already.”

We had enough heartbreak as is for the day, Sofía thought, but said nothing. Instead she turned away from the galloping horses and let her gaze wander across the parish grounds. A few men were running off to grab what horses and hunting rifles they had and join the rescue party, but no trace of Ernesto. He’d returned, she knew, but no one had seen him since.

Where in the world is that idiota hiding now?

***

Following the trail left behind by the column of Federales - the imprint of hooves, the wheels of carts, the cigarette butts they left in their wake - was easier than finding gonorrhea in a brothel.

Well, at least Ernesto supposed it was; he wouldn’t really know, as he had never in his life had gonorrhea or needed to resort to a brothel for pleasurable company in the first place. His good looks and charm had served him well enough with men and women alike, as Juan could testify.

Except that Juan was dead, shot like a dog in the middle of the plaza, what little color he had on his face draining away along with the blood; Ernesto had not seen it happen, but he could imagine it all too well each time he closed his eyes against the merciless July sun.

Juan could never testify anything anymore, nor roll his eyes or start a lecture whenever Ernesto said something outrageous. He was far enough from Santa Cecilia that he could barely hear the bell anymore, but its toll was still ringing in his head, in every thudding beat of his heart.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I want them dead.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks, or so he told himself. Ernesto kicked the donkey’s flanks to make the stupid animal go faster, the reins of the other clutched tight in his hand, and wiped his forehead, teeth clenched hard. He clung to his fury, allowed himself to bare his teeth in something resembling a smile as his gaze fell on the caskets of wine. Holy wine, plus a special ingredient courtesy of the parish’s old rat problem.

He would see them dead. He would see them writhe and suffer, and he’d let them know it was by his hand; Juan would probably disapprove, that stupid stuck-up gringo, but he was no longer there to talk him out of it. He was no longer there to disapprove of him, and someone had to pay for it. How gracious of God’s church to provide the means to make it happen. Perhaps it was his will, after all, and who was he not to help along divine will?

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina, Juan had said.

Todo modo. Todo modo. Todo modo.

Ernesto let the words echo in his head until they drowned out all noise from the bell, or perhaps it had stopped ringing, or he simply got too far for its sound to reach him anymore. He pressed on through the dusty path and up yet another hill until finally, finally, he saw it just below: a long column of men who were not long for that world. A few men at the back were looking up towards him, surely there to guard against rear attacks. But they saw no rebels there: only a priest, far more charming than the one they’d shot dead in Santa Cecilia.

Ernesto stared for a few moments, and finally let out a long breath, relaxing his frame. He wiped sweat off his face, opened his eyes, and smiled. A real smile, not a grimace; the easy, charming expression that got him in the good graces of men and women alike oh so quickly.

Who would refuse a blessing in those difficult times? Who’d turn away a friendly face? Who wouldn’t accept some holy wine to wash down the dust and dirt? With some luck, it would be the last thing they’d do before they got to confess their sins to San Pedro himself.

Good luck explaining away the murder of a man of the Church, Ernesto thought, and got the donkeys moving down the hill as quickly as he could. No turning back now, not anymore.

The thought did cross his mind for the briefest moment - what if they see through me, what if they recognize me - but it hardly even registered. At that point he was one deserter among thousands and he’d left his battalion as it headed north, with no plans to go back down towards Oaxaca. Chances any of those men came from his battalion were vanishingly thin, he thought, and to be fair he was almost entirely correct in that assumption. Just almost.

Ernesto de la Cruz kept clambering down the hill on top of his donkey, with the smile of a friendly priest eager to deliver a very special blessing to the heroes of Mexico.

***

He wasn’t there, either. The slippery bastard wasn’t anywhere.

Santiago kicked his horse’s sides again, hands clenching on the reins. He had gone off ahead, ostensibly to scout for any sort of possible ambush, but truth be told it was only an excuse to be alone with his storming thoughts for a time.

He already knew there would be no ambush: the idiots were still waiting for them in San Luz, or had given up waiting and were drinking themselves into a stupor, which was just as likely. A few more miles, and then they could circle back to take them by surprise in the middle of the night.He’d toyed with the idea before, but it was not the current plan: he and his men were expected in Yucatan within days, which left them short on time.

But it was… tempting, nonetheless.

We could get some scum out of the way. And maybe de la Cruz is hiding there, or passed by. Someone might know something. Someone might talk.

Santiago closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting the sun beat down on his face. It had been a scorching hot day when he had found Alberto’s body, too, shot in the back of the head and left to feed carrion birds by the monster who’d greeted them that morning with a smile before they went off on patrol together.

It should have been Santiago out on patrol with Ernesto de la Cruz that day. It was his turn; it should have been him to fall face down in the sand with his brains blown out. But he’d pulled a muscle in his back the previous evening, riding felt like having hot rods pushed into his spine, and Beto had offered to take my place.

Said I owed him a drink. What wouldn’t I give to pay back that debt.

Monster, the gringo had called him. What sort of beast, he had said, but the idiota knew nothing of monsters and beasts that must be put down for everybody’s safety. He, at least, didn’t feign friendliness. He didn’t hide behind a smile. He warned before he shot, stated his terms and delivered on his promises.

If it made him a beast himself, very well; perhaps he was. Perhaps trying to take the child had been a step too far - but he’d sooner be a lion than a snake hiding in the sand.

I cannot turn back anymore. No way to go but forward.

But first, San Luz. If he’s there, I’ll smoke him out.

Santiago Hernández stopped his horse on a rocky outcrop and reached into the saddle bag to pull out his map, so he could work out the best route back for a quick attack. He opened it and studied it under the merciless sun, waiting for his men to catch up

It took him a while to realize it was taking them much too long.

***

“Oye! Come here!”

“There’s a priest!”

“We’re getting blessed, muchachos!”

“And we’re getting wine!”

“... Huh?”

As word travelled fast up the column, causing men to halt their horses and turn, Héctor glanced around in confusion. He looked over at Gustavo, but he seemed about as lost as he was at the notion of a random priest walking into marching Federales to offer blessings and wine. Where did he even--

“He says he’s the parish priest of the hole we just left,” someone added, and Héctor’s blood ran cold, something clenching in his stomach.

No, no, no, no. What is he doing here? They were looking for him. They’ll kill him.

“Padre Ernesto?” Francisco, a young cobbler who’d been taken with him that day, blurted out. Sidling up to Héctor, Gustavo elbowed him in the ribs.

“What’s going on?” he growled under his breath. “Why is he here, and why did you get almost as pale as the gringo just now?”

“I…” Héctor swallowed, unable to force words out. Gustavo didn’t know, and this really was not the time to explain him everything. He needed to get to Ernesto immediately, warn him to get away while he still could, so he ignored Gustavo’s questions and spurred his horse to go back, towards the end of the column. The men there were already starting to gather, dismounting their horses… and passing around caskets of wine.

Héctor braced himself for the moment someone would cry out in recognition and every man present would turn against Ernesto, but there was no such cry; the men were none the wiser as they talked and laughed, took the wine and kept gathering, all semblance of order gone.

Above all, Héctor heard a familiar voice.

“... And once I realized I had entirely missed your arrival, well, I had to catch up with you,” Ernesto was saying, all charm and smiles as he helped unload the caskets of wine. “I couldn’t let my parishioners leave to serve this country without giving them my blessing, you understand. And you, of course, it is the least I could do - careful there, it’s heavy…”

It was like an impromptu party, but it was soon clear not everyone was simply in the mood to celebrate. Héctor did his best to approach, but he got knocked back by several men gathering around Ernesto.

“Padre!”

“Can we have your blessing, Padre?”

“I have not had confession in months--”

“Haven’t heard from my family since March, I don’t know if they are well, pray for them--”

“What happened to that other priest-- the gringo, we did not--”

“Our commander lost his temper, a man of God, I would have never--”

“We would never--”

Ernesto turned to the men, and his smile wavered for only a moment. But then it was back, full of understanding. “... Padre Juan was a man of principle who did not always know when to hold his tongue, but he is with God now,” he said, and Héctor’s stomach sank. So he hadn’t made it. He was dead, and Ernesto showed no sign whatsoever of being affected.

“His soul is safe, and I know he would want me to take care of yours,” Ernesto was going on, and he lifted his hand to impart a blessing, speaking loudly to be heard by all. He spoke in near-perfect Latin John Johnson would have been proud of, giving everyone present absolution before crossing himself. Many of the men mirrored the gesture, relief plain on their faces. Alejandro was among them, looking close to tears.

The blessing done, absolution given, Ernesto smiled and spread out his arms. “Now, let us all drink the blood of Christ and--”

“Padre!” Héctor finally cried out, pushing his way to the front, and Ernesto’s gaze turned on him. His smile grew even wider.

“My child!” he cried out, and pulled him into an embrace. “Ah, what a relief, having reached you on time to absolve your sins and give you the Lord’s blessing!”

Face smashed against Ernesto’s shoulder, Héctor barely managed to whisper. “What are you doing--” he began, only for Ernesto to turn his head and almost snarl into his ear, his voice so full of seething fury it made Héctor’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Saving your scrawny ass so I can kick it myself. Don’t drink the wine, none of you. Tell the others.”

“Wha-- Ernesto, wait, they’re--”

“Not a drop,” Ernesto hissed, and pushed him off before anyone realized they had spoken to one another, patting his shoulder with a laugh. “Go to the others, tell them they have my blessing and that the parish will look after their families,” he added, and before he could add another word Héctor was almost ejected from the small crowd, reeling.

What does it mean? What has he done to the wine?

He looked around to see Alejandro taking one of the opened caskets, saw the wine flowing and men drinking. Héctor wanted to stop him, tell him not to - he was not a bad person, he could tell; many of them were not bad people - but he knew he couldn’t do so without alerting them all, and in the end he had to back away.

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he knew he had to ignore it and move quickly. The wine was being passed around so fast, and he had to warn Gustavo and the others not to drink it before it got to them. Regardless how tempting it was not to tell Gustavo, of course.

No one has recognized him. Maybe it will be all right. Maybe whatever plan he has is going to work. Maybe it will make them pass out, no one needs to die, Héctor thought, and with one last glance towards Ernesto - he was positively holding court now, men around him laughing at something he said or crossing themselves and asking for a prayer - he ran back to where he left the others from Santa Cecilia, trying to reach them before the wine could.

Whatever Ernesto had done with it, he knew none of them wanted to find out the hard way.

***

What got Santiago to lift his gaze from the map and realize his men really should have caught up by now was a very distant sound, one he did not recognize at first. He put away the map with a frown, focusing, and for a moment he thought what he heard were distant screams. It made his blood run cold and his hands clench on the reins.

Had his men been attacked? Could it be? Was there an ambush - had he walked right past the enemy without realizing as much? Heart hammering in his throat, Santiago spurred his horse to trot back, straining to listen… and finally he realized what he was hearing were not screams.

Well, they kind of were, but those were no cries of distress; there was a rhythm to it, all voices rising up together and then falling, then rising again, like… singing? Was that bunch of idiots singing at the top of their lungs?

Have they all gone mad?

Stunned and furious at the same time, Santiago kicked his horse’s flanks to spur it into a gallop back the way he had come. He knew those men’s discipline was almost non-existent, but that was ridiculous. He would see them punished for it, he’d make them march through the night, he--!

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Soon he was close enough to hear the words and, after turning a bend, he could see that the sorry excuses of soldiers he’d been leading were off their horses and standing around or sitting in the dirt, drinking and singing like they were off duty in a damn cantina.

He opened his mouth to shout at them, demand to know what was going on in their empty heads, but another voice rose up loud and clear and Santiago’s own voice died in his throat.

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano..."

He knew that voice; he heard it before in the barracks, at campfires, whenever a comrade picked up a guitar. He never missed a chance to sing, turning each break in a performance.

Alberto had found it endearing; he’d found it annoying. Now it made him feel as though the sweat on his skin had turned into frost.

Still atop his horse Santiago turned slowly, very slowly, towards the source of that voice. He had not expected the priestly robes, and he’d had a beard when he’d last seen him, but he would recognize that despicable face anywhere; he’d dreamed of it almost every night, grinning down at him as he kneeled over Beto’s body.

And now he was there.

How or why he had come to be there, let alone in a cassock and singing along with his men as they guzzled down wine, Santiago had no idea nor he cared to know. All that he knew, all that mattered, was that he was there within his grasp, and that he would never escape again.

Santiago Hernández bared his teeth, and reached for the pistol at his hip.

***

BANG.

The gunshot was distant, reverberating through the hills, impossible to mistake for anything else. It made Imelda’s blood run cold, but she didn’t slow down; her horse was in full gallop, right at the heels of José’s own - which, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Ernesto’s own missing horse - and she spurred it to go a bit faster, just enough to sidle with him.

“Was that one of yours? Did you prepare an ambush?” she yelled to be heard through the rushing wind and beating hooves, knowing full well what the answer was but still hoping against hope to get at least some explanation for the gunshot.

José shook his head, his expression grim. “No such thing. There may be insubordination among them.”

“Does it happen often?”

“All the time. But we’ll only know when we catch up,” he added, and spurred his horse again. Imelda could only follow, and hope for the best.

If he gets himself killed, she thought, I’ll have to kill him again.

***

The gunshot was deafeningly loud, and close enough to make Héctor cry out - him, and several other men - and the singing to stop abruptly. There were confused cries, men jumping on their feet and dropping their cups of wine to reach for their own guns, turning around wildly to find out who’d shot.

They didn’t have to look far.

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Still on top of his horse, pistol raised in the air, Commander Hernández stared at Ernesto with enough hatred to make Héctor tremble. He was vaguely aware of Gustavo and another couple of men from Santa Cecilia talking to him under their breath, asking what the hell was going on, but Héctor was unable to speak, dread gripping his throat.

He found him. It’s over.

He wanted to cry out for Ernesto to run, to do something, but there was nothing for him to do and he could only stand there, staring in horror. Ernesto had stilled, realization beginning to dawn on him that he’d been recognized, and that he was trapped.

The soldiers around him were not quite as quick to grasp the situation. “What--”

“Commander, we, uh, can explain--”

“Shut up, all of you, and seize that traitor!”

“... Sir, that is Padre--”

“That’s no more a priest than I am, idiots! It’s the deserter we’ve been looking for!” the man screamed, and leaped off his horse, pistol still in his hand. “ SEIZE HIM, I SAID!”

“Qué?” Gustavo blurted out somewhere on Héctor’s right, and it seemed that sentiment was prevalent among the Federales as well, most of whom kept staring at their commander as though he’d suddenly started speaking Portuguese.

Then Ernesto tried to run, and all hell broke loose.

Héctor had gone hare hunting once, out of sheer curiosity, watching from the sidelines and not really doing much. The pack of dogs, all of them friendly mutts, had seemed comically clumsy, wagging their tails and snuffling about, seemingly more interested in playing than hunting… until a hare had burst out of its hiding spot to run away, and suddenly the entire pack had pounced. The chase had been brief, the screams unbearably loud, the outcome bloody, and Héctor had felt queasy as the owner of the dogs lifted the prey, grinning from ear to ear while his dogs went back to goofing off.

“This,” he had said, “is why you never try running before even the dumbest dog pack.”

Now Héctor watched Ernesto make the same mistake, and again the dogs pounced as one. The hare had no chance of escape that day, and neither did he now.

“STOP HIM!”

“Got him, I got him!”

“Get your hands of me, hijos de--”

“Agh! He bit me!”

“Get him over here!”

If any of the soldiers had doubted Commander Hernández’s words and still believed him a priest, Ernesto thrashing and screaming insults to their entire lineage - through the flea-ridden Spaniards who’d forced their way between their great-great-great-great grandmothers’ thighs and all the way down to the Garden of Eden - probably took care of it.

As Héctor stared, petrified and not knowing what to do, he was dragged in front of the commander and forced on his knees, arms behind his back. Hernández put the pistol back in its holster, walked up to Ernesto, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to force his head back.

He gave a cold, too-wide smile that still did not reach his eyes and said something Héctor could not hear. Ernesto’s scowl turned to shock for a moment, and then his features twisted in fury. He screamed and tried to rise up to throw himself at Hernández, almost made it, but too many men were holding him down and he was pushed back in the dirt. Orders were barked and they began dragging Ernesto away from the rest of the still confused soldiers, off the path and towards a small grove of trees and shrubs. One of the men carried a long rope.

They'll see me hang, Ernesto had told them after being unmasked, and God, he'd been right. “No, wait!” Héctor cried out and tried to run, but something gripped his arm, pulled him back.

“Stay here, idiota,” Gustavo hissed, his grasp on Héctor’s wrist tight enough to cut off the blood flow. He glared. “Won’t let you become a martyr on my watch, you’re insufferable enough as is. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Did you know about him?”

“I can’t let them kill--”

“Did you know!” Gustavo barked, and Héctor fell silent, his expression probably speaking volumes. Gustavo groaned, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “A Federale right under my nose and I never knew. Por Dios, José is never going to let me hear the end of it...”

“Gustavo, let me go, we have to help him--”

“Help is coming, idiota. Stay here.”

“But--”

“Help is coming,” Gustavo repeated in the forceful way of a man trying to will something into reality. “At least that damn liar delayed their march. Any moment now--” he trailed off when a sudden noise reached their ears amidst the confusion and exclamations, harsh and unmistakable - retching. Soon followed by another such sound, and another. And another.

One by one, the men around them began looking very, very sick.

***

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastards--!”

Ernesto’s insults got him precisely nowhere, and his attempt at fighting off the men dragging him away was about as useless. Too many of them, too strong, his wrists already tied behind his back before they shoved him on his knees in the dirt before the cabrón who had somehow recognized his face.

When said cabrón stepped forward and grabbed his hair to yank his head back, Ernesto clenched his teeth to hold back a cry and glared up at him. Who was he? Dimly he knew he must know him, he looked vaguely familiar - something about the mustache, the unusually thin bridge of his nose - but he still could not put a name to the face the way that bastard had somehow put a name to his.

Unaware of his thoughts, the man sneered. “Ernesto de la Cruz - so the rat comes out in the open at last. What’s the reason for this masquerade? Did you think these robes would save you? They will not. I shot down a true priest today. Or was the gringo an impostor, too?”

Our commander lost his temper, one of them had said.

That beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!

YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!

With a wordless scream, Ernesto strained against the men holding him down, against his bounds, wanting nothing more than putting his hands around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him. He almost managed to stand, but the weight of several men was too much and he was thrown back down in the dirt.

“You, take him and follow me. Rojas, get enough rope to hang this bastard. Quick.”

“Yes sir.”

No no no no no!

Ernesto struggled, but to no avail. Bound and overpowered, he was easily dragged away from the path by the small group of men - towards shrubs and trees, where they could hang him by the neck and leave him to feed carrion birds. They would not give him a clean death, he knew. No fall, no broken neck. They’d string him up and… and…

“Let me go!”

“Oh, as you wish.”

The men threw him down on the ground, and with his hands tied there was nothing sparing his face a painful impact. Ernesto ground his teeth to stifle a cry, only for that cry to be forced out of him when a kick in his side threw him onto his back. A knee pressed on his chest and the man leaned down, all his weight on Ernesto’s sternum.

When is the damn poison going to work?

Maybe the parish got scammed and that wasn’t poison at all. Wouldn’t that be a laugh, a fake priest dead thanks to fake poison.

As he struggled to breathe, Ernesto blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked up. Seen up close there was something startling in the sheer hatred in the man’s gaze, and it caused Ernesto to still a moment. The soldier, John’s murderer, sneered once again.

“Tell me, traitor,” he all but snarled. “Do you even know who I am?”

Don’t make him mad, part of Ernesto’s brain said, but the rest clung to the hope the poison would start working soon. Make him waste time.

“Should I?” he spat. A fist connected with his face as soon as the words were out, causing his vision to swim. Blood ran down his face from a split lip, went down his throat. Somewhere above him he saw the rope being thrown up over a branch, one end already tied in a noose.

And then, before his eyes, the blade of a knife caught the sunlight.

***

He didn’t even recognize him.

Of all the ways Ernesto de la Cruz had wronged him, that somehow was the final straw, the worst possible slap to the face. He’d murdered his best friend since childhood and ran off, leaving him to obsess over revenge for months on end - unable to sleep without seeing his face or Beto’s body in the sand, or both - and now he dared say he didn’t even know who he was.

Ah, but he’d know. Before he died, when he allowed him to die, he would know.

“I know who you are well enough,” Santiago snarled, and pulled out his hunting knife. “A coward, a traitor, and a murderer. You’re a Judas, and you’ll die as Judas did - and everyone will know why!”

De la Cruz tried to squirm beneath him, still dazed by the blow but all too aware of the blade of his knife. Santiago sneered, held the knife to his throat, and watched him grow still. There was terror in his eyes, unmistakable, and he savored it like a sip from a bottle of fine wine.

“Ay, you’ll wish I made it this easy for you.” The blade slipped beneath his collar and ripped down through the cassock, baring his chest.

De la Cruz tried to squirm again, this time with more urgency, eyes wide. “Stop!” he rasped.

Santiago smiled. “Why? Have you recalled my name?”

“I have done nothing to you. I--”

“Liar. I should take an eye for that,” he snapped, and brought the tip of the knife’s blade to rest right beneath a widened eye, drawing the tiniest drop of blood from his skin. “Think again, you Judas. Think of the day you deserted. Someone was with you.”

“What…” Ernesto de la Cruz paused and finally, finally, Santiago saw his expression change - from terror and confusion to realization. Of course, that must have jogged his memory: the two of them had barely shared a few words, but he must remember Alberto. And wherever Alberto went, Santiago followed.

Until, of course, de la Cruz had sent Beto someplace where Santiago could not follow.

You took him away.

Something ached in his chest, and all of a sudden Santiago felt ridiculously close to tears. But he had him now. He would see him die, Alberto would be avenged, and he would finally feel better. He had to feel better. He could not contemplate feeling the way he did forever.

“Thiago,” de la Cruz choked out, and he scoffed. Of course, even now, the self-absorbed bastard couldn’t be bothered to remember anyone’s name.

“Santiago,” he snapped, and leaned in so close their faces almost touched, pressing the blade a little harder on Ernesto’s skin and causing another pinprick of blood to well up. “But it matters not. You know whose name I want you to remember, sí? That of the man you killed.”

De la Cruz swallowed. “Alberto,” he managed. “I-- I didn’t want to kill him. I swear. I only wanted to get away, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I... he would have stopped me, he--”

“And so you shot him like a dog!” Santiago screamed, causing that disgusting coward to wince. He pulled back, knees still pressed against his sternum, keeping him pinned down. The grip on the handle of his knife was so tight it ached. And he even had the galls, this bastard, to lecture him for shooting a gringo!

“You left him dead to feed scavengers, and you really thought I would let it stand! You really thought I wouldn’t hunt you down like the beast you are! Tell me, did you kiss him the way Judas kissed Christ when he betrayed him?”

A shudder beneath him that may have been a sob. “P-por favor--”

“Oh, you’re begging now?” Santiago gave a loud, ugly laugh, and pressed the blade against Ernesto de la Cruz’s chest. “Very well, traitor. Go on and beg,” he said, and began to cut.

He did beg, but only for a few moments. For a good while, all he could do was scream.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #fake priest au

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bitter-sweet-farmgirl · 3 years

Text

Friends

OH MY GOSH DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT’S BEEN SINCE I WROTE FOR FILI?!!??! TOO LONG. I enjoyed every second of his Fee-Fluff. Although, I actually kept trying to put ‘Kili’ instead of ‘Fili’... I think I need to write for Fili more or Kili is trying to tell me something Also, I was SO SO SO tempted to use one of Arwen’s lines in here... But I didn’t. You’ll know the scene when you come to it though... ;)

Fluff about friend-zoning and Fili working up the nerve to tell a special lass he likes her.

Tags: @elvish-sky @kumqu4t @ladylouoflothlorien

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Loka

Word Count: 2,177

Translation(s): Surprisingly, none

Warning(s): None. Just fluff!

~~~~

"It's time to end this, once and for all." Kili declared suddenly as he sat next to me in the library; head propped up on his palms. I glanced up sharply from the thick tome I was currently pouring over.

"What?" I asked, not sure if I had heard him right.

"I said, it's time to end this once and for all. I'm sick of watching you pine after Fili." He repeated, adding some clarification to his words.

I let out a sigh, grabbing the ribbon I was using as a bookmark and placing it in the book to mark my spot. Something told me I wouldn't be returning to it for awhile. "What are you even talking about, Kili? I don't pine after Fili." I said, and Kili smirked.

"Uh huh. I've counted you watching him 178 different times in the past three days. Explain that." He said, prompting a faint blush to appear on my cheeks.

And I thought I hadn't been that obvious... Hmm, perhaps it was time to be a bit more--

"That's what I thought." Kili's confidence-loaded voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to see him grinning knowingly at me. "You fancy him, don't you?"

I gave Kili a confused look, trying to buy myself time. "Fancy who?"

Kili threw up his hands in a show of exasperation. "Fili. My brother. The one who's always watching you." He said in much too loud of a voice, and I motioned at him to be quiet. I didn't need this to be the new rumor circling Erebor.

Mahal, how embarrassing would that be?

But his words puzzled me; the way that they implied that Fili---no, surely not. It was too good to be true.

Footsteps sounded behind me, interrupting my musings, and Kili winked at me, grinning mischievously. "Who fancies who?" A deep, gentle voice asked behind me as broad hands came down to rest upon my shoulders.

Speak of the devil...

"I was just talking to Loka here about a lad from the Iron Mountains. She thought he was quite fetching." Kili piped up suddenly, and I shot him a glare. The nerve of him...

Fili's hands tightened on my shoulders, and I fidgeted a bit in discomfort. "Hey, be careful about squeezing me too hard. I'm not iron." I muttered, and Fili's hands disappeared in an instant as he came around to stand beside me.

"Sorry, Loka." He said, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Those beautiful blue eyes of his had a faraway gaze.

Kili kicked my shin underneath the table, and I turned to him with a stifled yelp of pain. "What the hell was that for?" I hissed, glaring furiously at the insolent Prince.

You were staring again. He mouthed with a cheeky look on his face. I just gave him a disgusted look and turned my gaze back down to the book I had so reluctantly vacated.

"If you'll excuse me, I've got some things to take care of." I said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us as soon as Fili approached.

Before either of them could protest, I gathered up my stuff from the library table and hurried out of Erebor's royal library. Maybe I could finally finish the tales of Númenor in the comfort of my own room?

~~~~

"Loka!" A sharp cry of my name had me halting in my tracks as I walked through the halls of Erebor. Turning around, I was surprised to see Fili jogging towards me; decked out in full royal garb.

"Prince Fili?" I asked, fidgeting with the bundle of fabric in my arms. A grimace flashed across Fili's face at my use of his title.

"How many times have I told you that you don't need to call me by that...?" He groaned, and I gave him an apologetic smile.

"Obviously not enough times; but I kinda have to call you by that since you are the Crown Prince after all." I said, but Fili just shook his head.

"Forget etiquette for once, Loka." He said, giving me a pleading look that awoke butterflies in my stomach.

Nodding, I smiled at him. "If that's what you command... But anyways, why did you stop me?" I asked curiously, and Fili shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his rapidly reddening neck as he turned his gaze to the floor.

"Uh..." He was suddenly at a loss for words, and I watched this with a incredulous look. Never before had I seen Fili look so... nervous.

"Fee?" I called softly, using Fili's childhood nickname.

"Would you like to go to the ball with me?" He suddenly said; words rushing out in a jumbled hurry that left me speechless for a moment as I processed them.

"The ball that's happening in about four days?" I asked, and Fili nodded quickly.

"Aye, that one. Would you like to go with me?"

Disappointment welled in my stomach as I looked at the hopeful expression on his bearded features. "I would love to--" I began, and Fili's face broke out in a wide smile.

"Tha-that's great!" He said excitedly, but I raised a hand to stop him.

"You didn't let me finish. I would love to go with you, but I'm already going with someone." I said, and the smile was wiped off Fili's face, only to be replaced with a furrowed look that didn't belong anywhere on his handsome features. "I'm so sorry, Fili." I whispered, but Fili was quick to shake his head.

"No, no, I should be sorry for bothering you. It's no big deal Loka, I just thought... Who are you going with?" He asked, quickly switching topics.

An image of a dark-haired Dwarrow--the exact opposite of Fili in so many different ways--popped into my head. "Maglorian. One of Dain's ambassadors." I said quietly, forcing a bright smile onto my face.

Fili nodded, a dark shadow passing over his face at the mention of the name. "I've heard of him; he's very nice." He said, giving me a smile that was so obviously fake it hurt. "Well, save a dance for me maybe?"

I nodded quickly, trying to find a way to lift this black cloud that had suddenly settled over Fili. "Of course! I'll always have a dance for you, Fee." I said softly, and a smile flickered across his lips.

"See you around, Loka." He murmured, turning and walking past me down the hallway. I watched him go, noting the way his shoulders were slumped in a picture of disappointment. But why? Surely he hadn't wanted to go that badly with me? Hadn't his question just been a friend asking a friend so they didn't have to go alone?

Shaking my head, I continued on my way to the Palace seamstress. My dress needed some alterations to fit the current styles of King Thorin's court, and I hadn't had time before now to deliver it to her.

~~~~

The day of the ball had finally arrived, but something just seemed wrong. Maglorian was very polite and nice, but not even his gracious manners could bring a genuine smile to my face.

I tried--I really did--to keep my attention on him, but I couldn't help sneaking glances towards the dour Fili. Mahal, I'd never seen him look so hurt before.

"Miss Loka, would you like something to drink?" Maglorian's cultured tones had me looking away from where Fili stood beside Kili and Thorin; watching the festivities.

Forcing a smile, I nodded sweetly. "That sounds lovely, thank you Maglorian." I said, and he smiled back, heading away from me towards the refreshments.

Breathing out a sigh, I returned my gaze towards the trio of royals, only to notice that one was missing.

Kili.

Glancing around the crowded ballroom, I tried to spot the dark-haired Prince in case he attempted to pull a prank on me or something. I wouldn't put it past him.

"Fancy a dance, my lady?" A cheeky voice said from right beside me, and I whirled around to find Kili standing in front of me.

Rolling my eyes, I accepted his proffered hand. "I suppose, if only to get away from the ambassador and his manners for a moment." I said, prompting a laugh from Kili.

"He's that bad, huh? I thought you said he was handsome."

"He's handsome in his own way, but he just oozes 'proper etiquette'. It's enough to make any lass sick." I grumbled, placing on hand on Kili's shoulder as he settled a hand on my waist. The music had turned to a slower waltz that was perfect for talking.

Kili chuckled, grinning down at me. "Perfect."

His words had me looking up at him in bewilderment as he suddenly spun me away from him and into someone else's arms. For a moment, I thought it was Maglorian and I went to pull away.

"I thought you said you'd save me a dance? Did you change your mind?" A familiar voice asked teasingly, and I realized Fili was the one with an arm around my waist.

Blushing, I looked up at Fili with a sheepish smile on my face. "I thought you were Maglorian... You are welcome to as many dances as you wish to claim." I said, quickly adjusting my grip so that one hand was held in Fili's while the other rested on his broad shoulder.

Fili raised an eyebrow. "So you don't like that ambassador then?" He asked quietly, and I shook my head.

"Of course not... He's just a nice guy that I thought would be fun to go to the ball with." I said, understanding suddenly dawning on me. "Wait, you thought that me and him were serious or something?"

Pink began to tinge Fili's cheeks, and he looked away from me. "Well..."

"You're jealous of him! Are you afraid he'd steal your friend away from you?" I teased, laughing at the thought even as my heart sank.

Friends, always friends. But I'd have to content myself with that. He'd never see me as something more.

"No." Fili's voice was uncharacteristically hard and I scanned his face worriedly. "I wasn't afraid that he'd steal my friend...." He trailed off and let out a sigh, raising his head to look around at the other dancers around us. "I--just come outside with me for a moment. I'll explain." He said suddenly, dropping his hand from my waist to lead me towards the doors out to the hallway.

I followed obligingly, wondering what he was going to explain. What did he even have to explain?

Once we were finally alone out in the deserted hallway, Fili grabbed my hands and looked down at me with a searching expression in his crystal blue eyes. "I don't know why it's so hard to say... I've never been so afraid of something before..." He muttered, and I looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Fee?" I prodded, and he took a deep breath, ducking his head for a moment before looking back up at me. "I was jealous of that Dwarrow, yeah, but not for the reasons you think." He whispered, and my eyes widened slightly.

Was he going to say what I thought he was going to say?

"I thought that he was going to steal away the heart of the lass who stole mine." He said quietly, looking at me with such a vulnerable expression in his eyes, it brought tears to mine. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, Loka, I'll get over it eventually." He muttered as I stared at him in disbelief.

"No!" I exclaimed, and Fili watched me apprehensively. "Don't get over me, please. I love you." I whispered hoarsely, and Fili scanned my face closely, looking for any hint of a lie.

"Loka..." He murmured in a low voice, raising trembling hands to gently cup my face, "I feel like I'm dreaming."

I smiled at him, closing the space between us until I was held close between his arms. "Then we're sharing the same dream." I whispered, tilting my head upwards as he leaned down to slant his lips over mine; his golden locks falling like a curtain over both our faces.

"Oh Mahal, finally! I thought I'd have to lock you two in a closet somewhere!"

Fili reluctantly pulled away from me with a sigh, turning his head to look at a grinning Kili leaning against a pillar nearby. "Do you mind?" He said with a raised eyebrow, and Kili raised his hands in a show of surrender.

"Sorry... Just keep in mind that Uncle is going to be looking for you soon, so don't get too cozy together..." He said, winking suggestively.

"Kili..." Fili growled, but a red flush was spreading up his neck. "Don't make me--"

"I'm going! I'm going!"

With that, Kili disappeared back into the festivities, leaving me and Fili alone once more.

Looking back down at me, Fili gave me a roguish smile. "Now, where were we...?"

#fili #the hobbit #line of durin #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst #jealousy #fili x oc #dwarves #kili #royal ball #erebor #friends #just friends #fili friday

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fictionalabyss · 3 years

Text

Protector : Hope.

Pairing : Dean x Reader, Sam, Brady, Alex (oc), Detective Baker (mentioned)

Word count : 1,764

Warnings : Prison life : Solitary confinement (mentioned), fear, anxiety, hope. Series TW : Domestic Abuse is a constant topic- be it mentioned, or actually happening.

Continuation of this series was commissioned by : @iflostreturntosteverogers

Part 21 of Protector.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

“Here.” Sam places a mug of coffee on the coffee table in front of Brady.

“Thanks.” He smiled up and watched as Sam sits on the arm of the couch next to you, arms crossing over his chest. “I spoke with Dean’s lawyer.”

“And?”

“Dean’s in solitary, again.”

Your face fell at that. You knew, part of you knew, you hadn’t heard from him in almost a week when he normally called at least every other day, but now it was confirmed. He’d done something stupid and got himself locked up even farther away from you. “What did he do?”

“Another fight. Says Dean looks rough, but the other guy had to be hospitalized.”

“Jesus, Dean.” you muttered looking down with a pout.

“But, Dean’s lawyer had got the PO box number from him, we’re looking into who owns it. Might take a bit.” You gave him a small nod, never really looking back up at him. “How are you holding up?”

When you didn’t answer, Sam did. “She’s having nightmares.” Brady looked from Sam to you again.

“Like Alex was having?” Sam nodded. “Maybe you should join him in therapy.”

“I just need Dean home.” you looked up at Brady, pleading with him.

“We’re working on it.” He saw how your eyebrows went up a bit at that. “I offered my services, so I’ll be sticking around a bit. Is it safe to say you didn’t speak to police after the grocery store incident?” You gave him a small nod. “Okay, I’m going to need you to write out a statement of what happened, and how you know this guy to be tied to Baker. I’m going to file it.”

“Okay.”

Brady opened his briefcase and pulled out some papers. Sam sat watching as Brady explained how to fill them out. Once he was done, he handed you a pen before sitting back and sipping at his coffee. Then he looked at Sam. “How’s Alex?”

“Worried.” Sam answered. “Scared to leave the house in case she needs him.” Sam glanced at you and Brady followed his gaze. Both of them watched you as you started writing.

“This asshole shown up since?”

“Not that I know of.” Sam answered. “But every once in a while, there’s a dark grey car parked two doors down across the street. Just sits there for a while before driving off. Don’t know if it’s this asshole or-”

“Baker.” Brady nods, turning to look out the large living room window. “That car over there?”

Sam gets up from where he’s sat, taking a step forward as he leans to look out. “Yeah, actually.” And as if the driver knows he’s being watched, the car takes off.

“Huh..” Brady turns back to his coffee taking another mouthful. “Might need to step up security.”

“Already did. Alex gets an escort now, I barely leave the house, and Dad has a rotation going of people driving past or stopping in. Random times, no patterns.”

“Good.”

“Brady?” When he looks to you, he finds you looking up at him, pen stopped mid sentence. “Do you know when he’ll get out of solitary?”

Brady shrugged. “A few more days, I think. I’m not sure.” Pain and sadness filled your eyes before you looked back down and got back to writing. “He’ll call as soon as he’s out and able, you know he will.”

“I know.”

“More coffee?” Sam asked.

Brady looked down at his half empty mug, the liquid inside quickly going lukewarm. Lifting the mug to his lips once more, he downed the last of it and handed it off to Sam with a nod. “Could I trouble you for a little irish cream, too?” Brady half joked. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Sam smiled.

Brady was quiet as Sam left, then he looked down at the dog sitting at his side and looking up at him. He raised his eyebrow at the dog, and the dog let out a light whine before putting his head on Brady’s leg. “You better not be a drooler.” Brady threatened as he began to pet the dog on the head. When the dog jerked his head back at the sound of Sam returning, Brady groaned at the wet patch on his pants. “Of course you are.”

It took a few weeks, but Brady got you in front of a judge. You and Alex sat in chairs in front of the desk while Sam stood back, closer to the door. Brady stood next to you while another lawyer sat in a third chair with a foot between him and Alex. “What is this about, gentlemen.” the judge asked as he settled down and started going through the papers Brady handed off to him.

“You might remember, your honor, many months ago when you granted a restraining order between my client and Detective Baker.”

“I remember.” the judge answered, glancing up at Alex.

“Since then, your honor, Baker has continued to not only harass my clients, but put them in danger.”

“My client hasn’t been anywhere near this kid.” The other lawyer chimed in, gesturing to Alex.

“Near Alex, maybe not. But he has put the family in danger all the same. The day Dean Winchester was arrested-”

“My client made sure to wait until the kid was out of the garage to honor the restraining order and kept everything by the books.” the lawyer rolled his eyes.

“Was he keeping it by the books when he took ‘Azazel’, a known member of Morningstar MC, aside that day and not only informed him that my client is Dean Winchester’s wife, but pointed her out to him? That same Azazel of Morningstar MC who has not only stalked my clients, taking pictures of their home, parking outside of it, but also harassed my client while she was vulnerable, shopping in a grocery store with her young daughter?”

“Your honor, this is all fabricated nonsense. My client is a respected detective, and the only ties he has to any MC is putting members behind bars, like Mr Winchester.-”

“Respected detective?” Brady all but laughed as he began speaking over the other man. “His ex wife begs to differ, your honor. In fact, she has a restraining order against him as well. He has a history of putting women in danger, I have the damn file but I can give her a call!”

“-there is no mention of an 'Azazel' in the arrest reports,” He raised his voice to be heard over Brady. “and I can assure you, my client-”

“We have him on video.” Sam chimes in from behind and the judge glances back to Sam. “I was there, I saw him with Baker, but we also have surveillance from the cameras outside the garage. He was there, he was with Baker.”

“Who are you?” the judge asked him.

“Sam Winchester.” Sam stood tall and firm. “Dean’s brother.”

“He currently resides with my clients, as they no longer feel safe in their own home due to the harassment and threats they’ve received since Baker’s actions during Dean’s arrest.”

“If they’re so unsafe, why not move?” the other lawyer questioned with a scoff of a laugh, his hands going up into the air before falling again.

“Because I’m pregnant and that’s my home.” you snapped at him, shooting him a glare. “Where the fuck else can I go? He’ll find me. I can’t go to the police because Baker is a detective, who’s going to believe me? I don’t know if you know this, your honor, but I’ve dealt with abusive men before. My hu- my first husband, he-” you swallowed, trying not to cry, but a tear escaped all the same. “He hurt us. Bad. And that trauma, it doesn’t go away. It never goes away. And now I have this man, this man I don’t even know, a man I’ve never seen before the day I saw him with Detective Baker, he’s following me around. I’m scared. Where do I go? Who am I supposed to trust? Who’s going to help keep me safe when it's a man with a badge who put me in danger?” Alex reached over and took hold of your hand. “I’m scared for my kids. I’m scared the stress will make me lose this one.” you looked down, running your hand over your stomach. “I’m scared I’ll die simply for who I fell in love with.”

“Do you have the footage?” the judge asked.

“The original, we entered as evidence in Dean Winchester’s arrest case, but I’ve got an authenticated copy right here.” Brady handed over the small disk case.

Without a word, the judge opened the case and put the disk in his computer. It was quiet for a few minutes, and then you could hear faint noises coming from the speakers. You stared down at your hand in Alex’s as you faintly heard Dean speaking.

“Is this the arrest?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“This is Azazel?” he glanced up and Brady nodded. His eyes were back on the screen as you heard yelling start and all hell broke loose. Alex gave your hand a squeeze knowing this was hard for you to hear. Before long, the sound died down to a quiet buzz again. “Is this your detective?” he turned his screen so everyone could see, just beyond the gate, barely in view of the camera, Baker was talking to the man. Then you saw yourself appear and both men turned to you. Baker looked serious while the other man smiled deviously. “Want to tell me again how your client doesn’t know this man?”

“How’d it go today, baby?”

You smiled so bright and happy hearing his voice. “We don’t pay Brady enough.” you laughed into the phone. “You’re going to hear from your lawyer real soon, Dean, but Baker is done. He’s off the case completely and the judge wants a full investigation. Into everything. Even the way your case was handled.”

“That’s good.”

“I know I shouldn’t be getting my hopes up yet, but..” you smiled. “I really hope this means you can come home soon.”

“We’ll see.” You knew he was trying to be realistic but you could hear the hope in his voice. “I miss you, baby.”

“I miss you too, Dean.”

You heard someone call out his name, and Dean was quiet for a second. “Baby, I got to go. Apparently my lawyer’s here to see me.”

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll talk to you later, I promise.”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : Protector : @jaycc7983 @volleyballer519 @meganlpie @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo @londoncallingbutiwontpickup @valsworldofcreativity @samsgirl93 @delightfullykrispypeach

Dean - @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural @deandreamernp

SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted @kazkingdom @babypink224221 @emoryhemsworth @ilovefanfic86 @pie-with-hunters @anaelsbrunette @feelmyroarrrr @letsdisneythings @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose @xostephanie @ilovedeanspie @defenderrosetyler @amandamdiehl

#protector #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #reader insert #biker!dean #dean #dean fic #dean winchester #au #biker!au #spn #spnfic #spn au #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural au

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rubix-writings · 3 years

Text

Punisher Pt. 11

Eleventh part of Punisher. This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the shows.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: cheesy lines

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Sylvie sympathizes while laying on my bed next to me. She came over almost an hour ago to hang out before my date with Jay and we’ve spent the entire time looking at outfits.

“He gave me nothing to work with, he said everything tonight is a surprise. What am I supposed to do with that? Is it a dress needed surprise or will I need sneakers?” Sylvie snickers at my panic. “Why are you laughing?” I flop on my bed next to her.

“You’re so smitten.”

“Smitten?” I mock her.

“C’mon you have to know that you can show up in your pj’s and Jay would still look at you like you hold the world in your hands.”

“What?” I laugh and look at Sylvie’s serious expression. “Wait, really?”

“Now, let’s get you into an outfit, he’s gonna be here soon,” Sylvie ignores my question and gets up from the bed to look at the clothes in my closet.

“How’d you feel?” Sylvie asks as I pull the mid-length camel, winter coat on. I open my mouth to respond, but a knock echoes through my apartment. My heels click against the wood floor as I make my way to the door.

“Hi,” I smile as I open the door to reveal a bright-eyed Jay. He’s wearing a black button down and jeans. God, he really looks hot in everything.

“Hey, these are for you,” Jay hands over a colorful bouquet of flowers. I thank him and go to the kitchen to put them in a vase. “Hi Sylvie.”

“Hi Jay,” Sylvie says sweetly as she slips on her puffer coat. “You two have fun.”

The door clicks announcing Sylvie’s departure. Jay leans against the countertop next to me as I fill a vase with water. Out of the corner of my eye, Jay has a smirk on his face while he watches me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he smiles and shakes his head.

“Seriously, what?” I unwrap the flowers and start arranging them in the vase.

“Seriously, nothing,” That damn smirk.

“Do I have something on my face? A tag on my coat? What?”

“No you look… you look perfect. I’m just really happy this is finally happening is all,” his cheeks flush a light shade of pink. I place the full vase on the counter and walk over to Jay.

“Me too,” I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his lips to mine. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“I’ll bring you flowers all the time if that’s the thanks I get,” Jay wraps his arms around my waist to bring me flush with his chest. Jay kisses my lips quickly before pulling away, “C’mon we should get going.”

“Where are we going?” I grab my purse and walk out of the apartment while Jay holds the door open.

“The Iris, I go there all the time”

“Sounds great,” I say as I hold his hand.

“Come here ‘all the time’ huh?” I joke as we stand in front of The Iris that has a giant, red ‘CLOSED’ sign across the front door. Jay stutters in shock, not knowing how to explain the situation. I laugh again, trying to show that I’m not remotely mad.

“I’m sorry, we can go back to my truck and find another spot or pick up groceries to cook,” Jay offers. I look around the street to find an alternative to keep the night going, when a bright yellow food truck catches my eye.

“How do you feel about street food?” I ask, pointing to the truck. Jay smiles and grabs my hand before pulling me across the street.

Jay and I both order burritos before taking it to a nearby bench. Stuffed full burritos are not necessarily the best date food, but neither one of us cared, it’s late and we’re both starving.

“How’s yours?” I ask with a mouth full of food.

“Probably will regret eating street meat tomorrow, but it’s so good,” Jay responds, also with a mouthful. He tilts his burrito towards me, offering a bite.

“Yours is good,” I say after taking a bite, I offer him mine.

“Yeah, mine’s better,” Jay says after taking a bite of my burrito.

“It’s definitely not.”

“Well, I guess I just need another bite,” I laugh as Jay takes a massive bite.

“How’s it now?” I ask, he holds a thumbs up. Once the burritos are finally finished, Jay and I stay seated on the bench. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders, and I hold the other in my hands, drawing the lines on his palm. A part of me thought that the conversation wouldn’t flow as smoothly because of the pressure of actually being on a date. Luckily, I was wrong, we joke and talk about everything like we normally would.

“I lied before,” I furrow my brow at his confession, trying to think of what he lied about. Hours have passed since he picked me up from my place. “When I said that I went to The Iris ‘all the time.’ Kim and Hayley helped me come up with a list of restaurants to impress you and they mentioned that we could walk in without a reservation since it was late notice, I didn’t think to check if it was still open.”

“Jay, you don’t have to try to impress me. We could’ve gone to a complete dive bar or whatever and I’d still be excited.”

“Hearing that definitely makes me feel better, but I want to impress you because you deserve it. You deserve so much more than I can give,” Jay refuses to look me in the eye and I can’t hold back a laugh. “Oh is my pain funny for you?” He mocks.

“No, no, not at all! I’m sorry. It’s just, I was freaking out about today not because I didn’t think it would be fun, but because I thought the same thing about you,” Jay’s eyes snap up to mine. I take the opportunity to lean in and kiss his lips. I take my hands away from his hand and move them to sit on either side of his face. His soft lips move against mine, his free hand grips my upper thigh. I try my hardest not to feel the burn under his fingers on my thigh and focus on showing Jay how much I care for him through the kiss. We pull away and our foreheads rest against each other. Jay’s hot breath fans against my face.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, almost sheepishly.

“I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don’t sleep with guys on the first date,” I try to break the tension, but internally cringe at the attempt.

“Well good thing it’s not our first date, right?” Jay’s blue eyes bore into mine. The flecks of brown and gold are prominent when you look at them this close.

“I guess it is,” I say back in full confidence. Jay kisses me on the lips one more time before grabbing my hand and walking back to the truck.

Taglist: @whit85-blog @bestillmystuckyheart @nocturnalherb16 @5sos-imagine @miranda0102 @thexplosivegirl @annalism

#jay halstead x oc #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago fire imagine #chicago one #Chicago Fire #punisher

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kim-miri · 3 years

Text

HALF(have a little fun) pt. v

→ one | two | three | four

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part five / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 3,127

☾v.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾v. part v: the mafia(2/2)

Sayomi made her way to the elevators once again, dispatching the control room through her walkie talkie that she needed to get to her shift.

It was currently a quarter to 1, the last minutes before her shift would start. With a hand resting on her katana, Sayomi now exited the elevator having arrived at the 48th floor.

As she approached the VIP’s room, the two bodyguards on duty sighed in relief.

“Thank god, it’s finally rotation time”, the woman exhaled lazily.

Sayomi tried her luck at a friendly interaction, casually asking the pair a question. “I’m guessing there wasn’t any action?”

The man laughed a genuine, but tired laugh. “Absolutely nothing. We haven’t moved an inch since the start of our shift.”

Sayomi laughed at the pair’s lack of enthusiasm, her violet eyes crinkling at the edges. Her expression of joy seemed infectious, as the older members in front of her laughed along with her in their despair.

She was starting to feel like a true member of the team already.

This is nice, I didn’t expect the others to be as unmotivated as me.

Closing in on the time designated for the shift change, Sayomi’s partner arrived as well. Seeing no purpose in waiting around when everyone was present, the pairs switched early, starting Sayomi on her very first stretch as a bodyguard.

☾v.

The first 30 minutes into her shift, Sayomi had learned that her partner was a rather quiet person by nature.

Upon starting their shift, the two had exchanged a brief greeting, nodding to acknowledge the other.

It was only after an hour of standing and staring at the wall that Sayomi decided she couldn’t stand the silence while they waited out their shift.

She initiated a conversation with the older man, coming out bold as to establish her character.

“So, how did such an average man like you get stuck working for the mafia?”

The man was unmoving, replying to her question in a soft voice. “My family’s debt… Why did a young girl like you get caught up with the mafia?”

She wasn’t expecting such an honest response from the man. It threw her off, making her unprepared to answer the question shot her way.

“Um… I guess you could say family circumstances?” She hadn’t lied, given that it was her family’s actions that left her at Meteor City.

The man nodded in understanding at her vague answer.

Another wave of awkward silence fell over the two, Sayomi’s initial attempt at socializing having failed miserably.

She decided not to reattempt a conversation with the man, sensing that he didn’t care for idle chatter.

Family circumstances, huh. That’s the best thing I could think of.

Sayomi had fallen deep in thought, her brows furrowing as she reflected back on her life.

I wonder if… father ever came looking for me? Or Illumi… did Illumi want me gone too? Ah, I shouldn’t be so dramatic about this. Either way I won’t return home, because that would mean mother winning.

She exhaled audibly, tired from the splurge of thoughts that had taken over her mind once again.

The man glanced over at the teen stationed next to him. She was obviously just as bored as he was to be stuck with this job.

Moving his eyes back forward to the wall in front of him, he attempted to kickstart a conversation once again. “You seem a bit too young to be on your own, don’t you miss your family?”

Sayomi blinked at the man in surprise, both at the question and the fact that he had initiated a conversation.

She contemplated whether she should tell the truth or cover it up with a lie. Deciding that a lie would take more effort, she settled for the truth. “I’ve been in the assassin business for 6 years now, so I wouldn’t say too young… I do miss my little brother though. Do you miss your family?”

As the man appeared to be deep in thought, Sayomi mulled over her words. My little brother… Killua, are they treating you alright?

“My apologies for assuming. And, yes, I do indeed miss my family. But, why haven’t you escaped yet, then? With no leverage against you, you could easily run away at any time.” The man spoke while looking at her this time.

She thought about his question. “I guess… well, I don’t really have anywhere else to go. It’s my first time in Yorknew City, and I wouldn’t want to go back home to the people that left me in the first place.”

He let out a hmm at her response, obviously putting the pieces of her situation together. “If I told you of a way you could live here in Yorknew without being trapped under the mafia… would you oblige?”

His eyes were soft and earnest. He knew what it was like to remain helpless at the hands of the Mafia, and saw no reason she should as well, especially at such a young age.

Sayomi’s expression formed one of shock and surprise, obviously taken aback by the man’s sincerity to help.

“I suppose I would… but if you know of a way out, why haven’t you left yet?” The two were now holding eye contact as if to read the other’s intentions.

“I’m afraid I’ve already received too much from the Mafia. I owe my life as well as my family’s safety to them.” He responded somberly.

Sayomi nodded silently, understanding the man’s situation. She decided to at least take a listen to the plan he had to offer. “So, you know of a way I can live in Yorknew without the Mafia breathing over my shoulder?”

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, and the man could sense it as something between the recklessness of a teenager and the confidence of a powerful assassin. She has no fears. I wonder how much she’s experienced to be this strong at such a young age.

“Ah, yes. Sticking with the Mafia will never do you any good. There’s a way of living here in Yorknew City if you’re especially confident in your fighting abilities. It’s called Heaven’s Arena.”

Sayomi raised her eyebrows at the man’s words, curious. Heaven’s Arena? Sounds like some shoddy place where people bet on fights.

“Alright, you’ve got my attention. So, what does one do at Heaven’s Arena?” Sayomi asked.

The man cracked a ghost of a smile at her interest. “You fight. From what I’ve heard, it’s set up in multiple floors, and each time you win they let you advance to higher floors. I’m pretty sure the pay goes up with each floor as well.”

Sayomi was impressed. A place where they pay you to fight? Count me in.

“I wonder what the catch is though… if it’s as easy as you say, wouldn’t everyone be taking their chances at Heaven’s Arena?”

The man hummed in agreement with her words. “You’re right. The most I’ve heard is that once you reach a certain point, the matches become a fight to the death, and through any means possible. I’m guessing that’s where most people falter- it’s either life or death matches that’ll provide you with a stable income, or small fights once in a while that pay very little. Only the strongest find what they’re looking for at Heaven’s Arena.”

Gambling with your life in order to pay the bills…

“And you think I could make it at Heaven’s Arena?”

The man looked down at Sayomi with a fatherly gaze. “I don’t think you’re the type of person to need someone else’s approval. But to answer your question, yes, I think with the right amount of training you could find a new life with Heaven’s Arena.”

Sayomi smiled at his judgement of her character. “Well, then that does it. I just need to find my way out of the Mafia’s grasp, and then I can get to training.”

☾v.

Sayomi’s shift was over before she knew it. Just as the pair before them had said, their VIP client had no one after him.

Her partner had told her all he knew about Heaven’s Arena and the Mafia from his many years working in Yorknew City.

She had learned that there were members of the Mafia hidden within the assassin recruits, keeping anyone from sneaking away. Her escape would have to be well planned out to avoid getting caught along with any consequences.

Tagging out with the next pair of bodyguards, Sayomi head back to her room once again.

2 days later

VIP Adachi Yuto’s stay came to an end, with it marking the end of Sayomi’s first job. The team was dissolved as a result, and Sayomi was dispatched by her section leader to meet with him down at the lobby.

The section leader turned out to be the man who had first brought her to Yorknew City, a familiar face that relaxed Sayomi’s nerves a great amount.

Upon meeting, he was immediately down to business, letting Sayomi know of her next assignment.

It was an assassin’s job.

She had originally planned to find a way out of the Mafia’s scope soon, but with the mention of her finally getting some action, the plan was postponed.

Her target was a man in his 30s. No other information was given to her besides a photo and his location.

Not much to her surprise, an ankle monitor was situated around her right leg, keeping her from straying from the job.

Damn you, bloodlust. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to ditch the cold blood and murder mother and father drilled into my head.

Sayomi was falling victim to her old habits. She knew it was wrong to stick around any longer, but the consequences of the offer to satisfy her thirst for blood didn’t sink in until the cool metal of her ankle monitor pressed into her skin.

The man seemed to read Sayomi’s thoughts as she realized her mistake. “The ankle monitor is programmed to shock the user upon our command. It’s enough power to deal sufficient damage to even the largest of animals, so I insist you remain focused on the missions we give you. We never enjoy having to resort to using it, but keep in mind that we will not hesitate to, given a reason.”

She looked down at her ankle in defeat. It seemed Heaven’s Arena would have to wait.

☾v.

Later that night

Sayomi paced anxiously about in her hotel room. It was a mix of long-overdue bloodlust and hatred towards herself as a result of her assassin’s instinct to kill.

Deep inside her head, a war of conflicting feelings raged on.

Calm down, Sayomi. Every time you do this it’s only proving that mother succeeded in sculpting you into her little assassin.

She had completely thrown away a perfect chance to escape just because she couldn’t control her impulses to kill in cold blood.

But is it that wrong to want to kill? Being an assassin doesn’t mean I’ll be exactly like mother. I can control my own future now, I am my own person.

Setting her katana down against the wall, she opted for her needles instead. It had been a while since she’d used the smaller weapons because they reminded her of the past.

Now putting the past behind her, Sayomi walked with a new air of confidence. It was her greatest skill and job to kill, she’d decided. And this was a decision she had come to on her own, a new mindset for a new beginning.

A static-ridden dispatch over her walkie talkie marked the beginning of her assignment, and Sayomi headed down to the lobby.

Since she was still underage, a driver was provided to her, stationed in front of the hotel with her designated license plate.

The brisk night air greeted Sayomi as she exited the hotel. It was currently a few minutes past 12, the streets being mostly empty except for the young city goers enjoying the nightlife in Yorknew City.

Exhaling out an envious sigh at the stunning city lights surrounding her, Sayomi watched her breath disappear into the night as she walked briskly to the car.

The drive to her target’s location was silent. Sayomi sat alone in the back seat, watching with empty eyes as friends, lovers, and complete strangers came together in harmony within the lively city.

She started to wonder what it would be like to live a normal life like them. What would she be doing right now? Staying up and texting friends? Going to bed before midnight?

As the teen sat in the back of a luxurious car going towards her next target to assassinate, she couldn’t help but wish she had a normal life, with friends who cared about her feelings or guy problems instead of waiting for orders on which guy she would kill next.

These are useless thoughts. There’s no turning back now.

The car came to a stop at an intimidatingly tall company building, around the same height as the hotel.

Stretching her limbs as she exited the car, the driver notified Sayomi he would wait for her return in the same spot.

Thanking the driver for his services, she took quick steps towards the entrance of the building. With her persistently developed speed and underground techniques, sneaking in and out of the building would be no problem.

Taking notice of the lack of security, she rolled her eyes as she let out a breath in annoyance. This is amateur work.

Activating her zetsu, Sayomi’s menacing purple aura dissipated into thin air as she dashed past the sorry line of security, making her way to a deserted hallway.

There was a lone guard doing rounds with a bright flashlight in hand, failing to notice the slight breeze that Sayomi had left in her path.

Positioning a needle between her fingers, Sayomi flicked her wrist out at lightning speed, sending the needle flying towards the guard.

It hit home in the guard’s neck, knocking him out instantly. Taking nimble steps towards the fallen guard, Sayomi made quick work of grabbing his access badge before heading to the elevators.

Seeing as no one else was around, she tabbed an elevator, rocking back and her toes as she waited.

Just as she had expected, the elevator required an access badge, which she tapped against the scanner while pressing on the button for the 38th floor.

In a bored attempt to keep herself preoccupied on the way up, Sayomi spread her band of needles out in her hands. Closing her eyes, she ran a pale hand over the band.

Her hand came down on a single needle, the needle she would use to finish off her target. Putting the band back into her pocket, she held the single needle between her knuckles, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The elevators chime signified Sayomi’s arrival at the 38th floor. The floor was empty, being past working hours and in between shifts for the security guards.

A single desk lamp shone in her target's office, and Sayomi strolled casually to the partially open door.

She could see from where she approached that her target was busy at work, having stayed overtime.

Knocking twice on the inside of the open door, Sayomi just barely caught the attention of the man before moving her wrist in a single, fluid motion.

The man had no chance to react, slumping face down onto his desk with a muffled thump.

She had hit the jugular clean and precise, leaving no trail behind of her job besides the now motionless man.

Satisfied with her work, Sayomi returned to the elevators with a skip in her step. A few months without my needles and I’ve still got it!

Greeting her driver with a smile this time around, she didn’t blame him for being utterly confused.

The job had taken her just under 5 minutes, the majority of the time belonging to the elevator rides up and down from the 38th floor.

Dispatching her section leader of the completed job, Sayomi returned back to the hotel, looking as if she had gone out for an evening stroll.

Her section leader greeted her in the lobby, letting her know she had the remainder of the night off. She frowned slightly at the news, her adrenaline still rushing from the short job.

An easy target like today always left her wanting more, unsatisfied with the lack of fighting that came with it.

I’m getting all caught up in this again.

Shaking away her thoughts of possibly finding more action, Sayomi returned to her room with slumped shoulders. She forced herself to set her needles back down on her nightstand, finding it hard to keep herself from fiddling with them.

It was late. And though the 51st floor around her seemed to be deep in sleep, Sayomi was restless.

She decided to wash up and take a quick shower to relax her nerves, changing out of the uniform and into one of the other outfits they had provided her with.

Wrapping her silvery-white hair in a towel, she opted to sit on the floor, gazing out of the floor length window in front of her.

Yorknew City was quieting down, the street vendors having cleaned up for the night, stores being long closed, and clubs starting to die down. The last of the neon signs flickered in the darkness, looking like tiny specks of color from where Sayomi sat, high above most of the buildings bordering the one she was in.

The 16 year old girl sat cross-legged in a trance, no longer focused on the city in front of her, but something within her mind.

What am I gonna do now… I ruined my chances of escaping anytime soon. All because I couldn’t control myself, my old habits. Does this mean mother was successful with her plans?

No. I don’t have to give in to defeat. I’ll find a way out, just like how I got out of Meteor City. Maybe if I gain their trust they’ll take this ankle monitor off.

I just have to become one of their obedient assassins, quiet and reliable.

Sayomi fell asleep slouched on the rough carpeted floor that night, lost in her own thoughts and emotions.

But despite the uncomfortable position, her face proved differently. She was only ever at peace when she was fast asleep, because that’s when she could see her loved ones within dreams.

Illumi, Killua… Are you two taking good care of each other? Are you doing better than I am?

Do you guys even miss me?

I miss you two so much I feel like I could die.

☾v.

to be continued.

a/n: taglist open!

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yanderecandystore · 3 years

Note

Hi I was the anon that asked the cat maid ask, and it just brought a smile to my face, it was so amazing and just thank you for writing that! Also can I have the same ask but with the delinquents? -🕸spider anon🕸

Hello Spider Anon! I'm so glad you sent me that request. Sure! Let's see how the delinquents react!

TW/Tags: I'll let this be a headcanon where the darling isn't part of any of the delinquent's groups // also I aged them up too, because I have forgotten that they were supposed to be on a institution just like the twins ;-; sorry //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Fortunate… Accident?? [Yandere! Delinquent OC x Reader]:

→ Janette Sartorius:

This freakin weeaboo wouldn't lose any time to finally get herself inside a maid cafe, so when she heard there was one opening in town, she was so excited!

Ahh, if she wasn't a bike gang leader, she would have preferred to be one of the maids instead! Wearing those cute outfits all day while gaining money for it!

But at least, she must contempt herself with the present situation, a cat maid cafe filled with cute-

"- Welcome in, mistress-! J-Janette?!" You couldn't help but yelp when you noticed the delinquent coming inside.

You didn't know about Janette personally, but you knew the rumours about her. And because you go to the same institution as her, you know a thing or two about the delinquents inside that place.

You have seen her in action a couple of times. For someone that is considered the weakest of all the delinquents, she sure is strong enough to scare everyone away. You know better than to mess with her, or any other delinquent in Saint Bernard's for that matter.

But hey! Maybe you'll be lucky enough of being one of the various students that she forgets that exists! Maybe she doesn't recognize you at all despite the fact you have the same classes as her.

But of course, things are never that simple, how could she forget about one of the prettiest students in that hellish place? Janette recognizes you almost instantly, but she was taken off guard and now she can't remember how words work, so she can't even say "hi" to you.

You bring her to her table, her expression is unreadable and you can only think that A: she really doesn't remember seeing you in class, or B: she remembers perfectly clearly and is now planning multiple ways of making fun of current attire.

But what was truly happening inside Janette's head was a lot more simpler than that, she was drooling over your form while also being jealous of how perfectly the outfit suits you. You looked so cute, she can only dream of being half as adorable as you are in that dress.

Cat maid, huh? She never thought you would be one to dress as a neko maid serving in a cafe, yet- Well, the view from her table is really, really nice.

She never thought she would be called mistress one day, she doesn't know how to feel about it, especially the way you said her name. Have you ever spoken her name in her presence? She doesn't think so.

It's kinda refreshing.

This situation doesn't exactly help her at all though. She went from simping for the cute shy student that never interacted to her, to simping over the same shy student, now wearing a mini skirt and acting like a neko maid. Serving her while being cute and terrified at the same time.

Now she has a new reason to want to apply for the job, but even if she doesn't get to be your coworker, she can always come back the next day, even if that means spending all of her money on sugary treats just to see you wearing that little maid costume.

→ Jackson Macnee:

Honestly, do you really think Jack is the type to enter maid cafes? Especially a neko maid cafe?? On his own?

He would only enter a place like this if he was forced to! And that's how everything started, Jack was forced to go inside this stupid place because his gang wanted to eat inside.

They wanted something different from the usual, and what could be more unusual to grumpy delinquents than a cutesy pastel cat cafe?

Yeah, he wasn't as excited as his gang was. They were probably more excited about the girls wearing maid outfits and cat ears than the food itself. He can't blame them tho, the maids are kinda cute in a weird way.

But seeing you working in a place like this sure is a strange situation, he can't tell if that is good or bad, I guess it all depends on his own interpretation. In one hand, he can see you in that ridiculously cute outfit, and in the other every single person in this place can also see it.

He is at least glad his friends didn't notice how familiar you are, they haven't noticed that you're a fellow classmate as well. But it was written clearly in your face that you have recognized them, you were afraid of attending their table yet you couldn't say 'no' to your boss even if you wanted to.

For someone that didn't want to come, he sure was starting to have a lot more fun now that he saw you. Even if he doesn't outright state how satisfying it is to see you after classes, you can still see the light in his normally dull eyes.

He didn't eat as much as his gang, he didn't pay attention to the sweet flavors, but rather at how you greeted customers. Those cat ears fitted you in a really odd way, he wasn't expecting to see something so interesting in this place, yet-

It was like he just found a diamond in the rough. If he wanted to get closer to you, then maybe he should come see you at your job more often.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanon #yandere delinquent oc #yandere delinquent #yandere delinquent x reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

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pandastern · 2 years

Text

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 15: Mixed Signals

If youd like to be tagged to the taglist for upcoming parts please dm me :)

Masterlist II AO3

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 2019

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected

“You do realize you’re dragging me in the wrong direction, you big, explosive oaf?”

Bakugou froze in his tracks and ground his teeth together. “Maybe you should point me in the right fucking direction, then.”

“Well, maybe you should stop dragging me around like some oversized toddler,” Artemis hissed back.

Bakugou glared down at her. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have to drag you around if you were capable of taking care of yourself, you sorry excuse for a squirt gun!”

“It’s none of your bloody business, now, is it, grease face?”

He blinked. “Grease face?”

Artemis grimaced and pulled her wrist free of his hand. “With the amount of hair gel you’re wearing, that’s the best I can do for you. Now, leave me alone and do some weird… blue jeans hero stuff.”

A soft snort escaped her, and even though she was still giving him the stink eye, she couldn't hide the small smile that tugged on her lips. Clearly, he knew she was mocking him.

“Haha, very fucking funny.” Bakugou groaned. “Trust me, I have better things to do than babysit-”

“Then, by all means… Wait, what's your hero name again?” Artemis cut in, her sickly sweet tone dripping with venom. “Never mind, doesn't matter. Please, by all means, be on your way!”

When she reached for her shopping bag, Bakugou took a step back and held it above her head. “I can't. I'm not failing my internship just because you’re acting like a little piss baby!”

“You think I'm gonna snitch on you?!”

“No! I think you’re stupid and can’t get yourself home on your own! With your luck, you'll pass out somewhere and Jeanist is gonna think I couldn’t be arsed to help you!”

“Can you be arsed?” Artemis asked with a quirked brow.

“Of course not!”

“Then let me g-”

“Artemis, I swear to God I will blow your ass up if you don't tell me where to go!”

Artemis narrowed her eyes and scowled at him, wondering if she’d be able to get away with punching him in the face. Then her shoulders sagged and she exhaled sharply.

“That way,” she mumbled, pointing at an alley.

“Atta girl.”

The pair of them walked together in silence for the next couple of blocks. Not really knowing whether he should start a conversation or not, Bakugou tried his best to keep his eyes to the front. Any exchange of words would end up with them fighting again, and he really couldn't risk blowing her to bits considering Jeanist had threatened to fail him.

However, he did notice though that Artemis kept glancing at him every now and then.

“What?” he growled.

“Nothing, just… I mean, those jeans really are a statement, huh? How many people had to restrain you for Jeanist to be able to put you in these?”

From the outside, she seemed to be asking out of genuine curiosity, but Bakugou could hear the undertone of mockery underneath. It was infuriating how easily she could needle him.

“God, I hate you.”

Artemis laughed sharply. “You're a bad liar.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “Oh, am I? You must know. You're an expert in dishonesty!”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Artemis retorted in a tone that told him he’d struck a sore spot.

“It means I've never seen you say a single sentence that was honest. Not once in my life have I met a single person who's been as deceptive and manipulative as you.” Bakugou snorted. “You're not even slick about it. You always get this weird glint in your eyes and I…”

He turned towards Artemis in exasperation and groaned. “That! That’s exactly the look I'm talking about. You're doing it right now!”

She stopped walking and looked at him as if seeing him for the very first time. Bakugou would’ve given his most prized possession to get a glimpse into what Artemis was thinking at the moment. Did she see him as a threat? He’d seen her do that before, sizing up people she interacted with before making a move.

Suddenly, her face changed. It was like a mask had been pulled over her eyes.

“I don't know what youre talking about,” she said, shaking her head as she walked past him.

“Yeah, right,” Bakugou muttered. Something told him he’d hit the nail on the head, so much so that he’d come dangerously close to something Artemis wanted to keep hidden.

Artemis led him through a small neighborhood to a very humble apartment complex. She stopped in front of the door and held out her hand for the groceries, but Bakugou held them stubbornly and followed her inside.

“You don't have to mother me, for crying out loud. I am more than capable of making it into my own flat,” she complained, but Bakugou followed her anyway.

Artemis tried to get rid of him again in front of her apartment door, but at this point, he was too curious not to go inside with her. Maybe her place would offer him some sort of insight into what kind of person she really was. After all, a living space always had some sort of resonance with its tenant, didn’t it?

Artemis’s apartment, on the other hand, wasn’t even close to what he’d expected. It was pretty much empty. No Decor, no pictures on the walls, not even plants or books. Nothing that could have made the space personal. It was like a poorly furnished room in a cheap hotel.

In fact, the only notable piece of furniture, aside from the couch and TV, was a small, low table in the centre of the room. Its surface was littered with several empty cans of energy drinks and days-old cup noodles, if the stale smell was anything to go by.

Artemis pushed past him, kicked off her shoes and flopped down onto the couch with a deep groan that quickly turned into a pained whine.

“Stop hurting yourself, dumbass,” Bakugou huffed before walking into the kitchen nook and setting down the bag.

“Fuck off,” Artemis snapped.

Bakugou took the opportunity to look around. He noticed a hint of smoke in the air, whose source he traced back to an ashtray on the small balcony outside. Who was she having over that was smoking? Her parents, maybe? A boyfriend?

Bakugou shook his head. It couldn’t be the last one. Who in their right mind would date someone like her?

“Your apartment is the saddest thing I've ever seen,” he concluded at last. “It’s completely empty, but you’ve still managed to make a mess of it. I’m actually impressed. How are your parents letting you live like this?”

Artemis didn’t respond.

That was odd, Bakugou thought. She almost always had some kind of witty response ready for him. He sighed and found Artemis still lying on the couch, a pillow covering her face.

“Oi! Didn't you hear me?”

“I did,” she muttered.

“So?”

Artemis dropped the pillow and sat up slowly.

“I have everything I need here,” she said without meeting his eyes. “Besides, it doesn't matter to you.”

Now that Bakugou thought about it, this apartment seemed way too small for more than one person. It wasn't uncommon to have students from overseas at UA. Bakugou knew for a fact that Class B had one from America, though such students always got a place in guest families or specific student homes.

Since Artemis didn't appear in the mood to elaborate, Bakugou shook his head and started picking up the trash and empty cup noodle boxes from the table before moving back towards the kitchen in search of a garbage can.

Not that he was doing it to help her. Of course not. The mess was just making his skin crawl. Despite his explosive temper (and yes, he was aware of the irony of that statement), he liked it when things were clean and neat. His mother would never have let him live in a dump like this. She’d have whooped his arse to the moon and back.

He started his search by opening every cabinet and drawer in the pathetically small (and suspiciously unused-looking) kitchen nook, but there was no garbage can in sight. Something soon struck him as rather odd, so he placed the garbage onto the counter and took a more thorough look. A dark realisation dawned on him.

Deciding to remain calm for now, Bakugou turned towards the fridge. The energy cans inside made a soft jangling sound when he pulled the door open and his suspicions were confirmed.

“Artemis?”

He heard the sound of bare feet hitting the floorboards behind him.

“What the hell are you snooping through my kitchen for?” Artemis snapped. She stepped forward to push him away from the fridge, but Bakugou wasn't moving an inch.

He turned towards her and asked, in a dangerously low tone, “Artemis, how the fuck do you feed yourself?”

She blinked. “What? With food, dumbass! What are you on abou-”

“You have no food. Or pans. Or pots. No dishes or cutlery. So, I’ll ask again. How the fuck do you feed yourself?”

When she just stared at him, he growled in frustration and pointed at the cupboards. “Empty. All of them. There is not a single edible substance in your bloody kitchen.”

“Of course there is. I just bought some,” Artemis huffed.

“If I open that grocery bag, will there be anything in there that is not a caffeinated drink that is gonna end up giving you a heart attack or instant noodles that are going to clog your arteries?”

Bakugou had to admit to himself, he was being uncharacteristically calm, even though his blood was boiling. No wonder she wasn’t getting better. No wonder she had dark circles under her eyes that would put every goddamn panda in China to shame. He had nightmares about her dying in his arms and Artemis wasn’t even trying to get better. It was infuriating.

Artemis opened her mouth and closed it again. Her cheeks turned pink, though whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, Bakugou couldn't tell.

“It’s food, isn’t it? Food is food! Why are you hounding me like some sort of helicopter mother? What I eat is none of your business. You don't even like me, so stop parenting me and go home!”

“Apparently, someone has to parent you. I can't believe you live like this. How are your parents letting you live like this? Someone ought to tell them you’re killing yourself with processed food-”

Artemis scoffed. The sound was hard and humorless, almost bitter. “What are you gonna do? Call them up and tell them? Please, good luck with that.”

That made him stop. “Do they know?”

Artemis shrugged and turned her back towards him, fiddling with the abandoned grocery bag on the counter. “I suppose.”

She was lying. Bakugou could tell. The question was why. “Artemis… are you all by yourself here?”

She ignored him and kept fiddling with the bag, taking out each item one at a time.

“I don't need anyone. I'm fine by myself,” she finally said. “Besides, I haven't seen my family in a while. Boarding school and stuff.”

Bakugou could tell there was more to it. So much more. The weight of it was so heavy on her shoulders he could almost see it crushing her.

He let out a sigh and closed the fridge door. Disregarding the fact that this ‘arrangement’ couldn't possibly be legal, it would explain a few things about her. “If you're so fine by yourself, why don't you even have a single pot for cooking?”

Another heavy silence. “I can’t cook.”

Bakugou stared at her in disbelief. At this point, he really should have just left. He really should have just grabbed his things and gone home. What did he care if Artemis lived like a slob? Not his business.

But he couldn't. And for some unknown reason, Bakugou grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the door.

“Hey, where are you taking me?” Artemis yelped.

“Proper grocery shopping. Now stop yapping and get a move on.”

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