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jerzwriter · 1 year

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A Capy Ending

Book: Wake the Dead

Pairing: Eli Sipes x F!MC (Zoe Rivera), with Troy Hassan

Rating: Teen

Category: Fun Fluff

Summary: Eli, Zoe & Troy set off for an afternoon of hunting and make a most unusual discovery. As the day continues, Troy reveals he's made some discoveries of his own.

Words: 1,677

A/N: A while back, @missameliep and I were having a conversation about our mutual love of capybaras. It's not the most common obsession, so we were delighted that someone else shared it. As we were talking, this silly little idea was born. When I got this ask from @cariantha, I just knew how I wanted to use it. I hope you enjoy this! I write a lot of heavy stuff for WTD, so I love when I can give them little moments of levity too!

@choicesmonthlychallenge Propmts: Being Outside, Ferris Wheel, Friends, Slow Burn, Smile (Take your pick lol)

Despite their best attempts to keep quiet as they hunted one late afternoon, two things kept betraying Eli and Zoe. One: The massive amount of twigs that had fallen during a recent storm. No matter how much they watched where they walked, they still managed to crunch under their boots.

But the second was the bigger offender, and it was becoming increasingly annoying to boot. The second thing? Troy Hassan.

Another loud sigh echoed from behind them. It had to be his tenth in as many minutes, and even though Zoe was walking behind Eli, she could feel him bristle each time the noise escaped her childhood friend. She looked haggardly between the two, knowing she’d be forced to mediate at any moment now.

Troy was unamused. His feet were becoming more tender with each step. When he let out a groan of disapproval, Eli had reached his limit. He swiftly turned around with a scowl.

“Troy, I’m sorry. Are we keeping you from something important?”

And there it was...

“No. But I do think it's time we head back. We’ve been out here forever, and we’re coming up empty.”

“We’ve been out here for less than an hour!” Eli insisted.

“Yeah, but it’s a thirty-minute walk back to Olympus. So, we should get started!”

Zoe hated getting between the two when they bickered, but she had to agree with Eli this time. She gently tapped Troy’s shoulder, hoping she could talk some sense into him.

“Troy, Eli’s right. We need to give it a little longer.”

“Hunting sucks!” Troy whined.

“But you like eating?” Eli rebuked.

“And we will be eating! We have plenty of rations right now!”

“Right now,” Zoe stressed. “You know as well as I do that can change quickly, Troy.”

“But nothing’s biting today, Zo! And if we stay out here much longer, it will be the zombies biting us. Come on!” He smiled sweetly, employing his best puppy dog eyes to attempt to sway Zoe to his side. “Make it two out of three, and we can head back?”

“No,” she stated firmly. “You should know by now I’m immune to your tactics, my friend! We’re staying out here for at least another half hour.”

She caught the little smirk Eli shot in Troy’s direction from the corner of her eye, Troy sticking his tongue out at him in quick succession. Zoe rolled her eyes. Some days she felt more like the Colony’s preschool teacher than its leader.

About ten minutes later, they all heard rustling in the leaves, and their feet were not the culprits this time. They pointed their weapons in the direction of the noise, hoping that evening’s dinner would appear, and not a drone. That’s when the tuft of golden brown fur lurched out from behind the bushes. It stood in the center of a clearing, appearing to have a death wish or a desire to perform; either argument could be made.

“Quiet,” Eli whispered, barely audible. “I’ve got this one.”

But Troy ignored that directive entirely.

“Is that a freaking…” he exclaimed, compelling the creature to hop back into the bushes.

“What was that?” Zoe asked, perplexed. “It was too big to be a rat, but I’ve never seen anything like it?”

“It will be dinner if I can get it,” Eli stated bluntly. He nocked an arrow as the creature stepped out again. “Now, just be quiet while I….”

“STOP!” Zoe yelled as Eli dropped his bow.

“Zoe! What the…”

“Look at him!” She squealed. “He’s standing on his back legs! It almost looked like he was waving to us! Troy, do you know what kind of animal that is?”

“It looks like a capybara,” he shrugged. “At least based on what I’ve seen in books.”

“A capybara?” Eli ridiculed. “I remember studying about them in school, but they’re not exactly native to this region.”

“You know, Eli, I bet when you were in school, undead creatures that wanted to eat your face off weren’t indigenous to these parts either… but shit happens.”

For once, Zoe ignored squabbling. Instead, she tiptoed over to the furry creature, who didn’t seem frightened by her approach.

“Hey, little guy,” she whispered in a sing-song voice. “I’m Zoe; what’s your name.”

“If he answers you, I’m shooting it!” Eli yelled, and Zoe promptly shushed him.

The animal let Zoe rub his damp fur when she got closer, even rolling to his side with delight as she patted away.

“Oh my God, he’s so cute!” she beamed. “Carlos!”

“What?” Troy asked.

“His name is Carlos!”

“He told you that?” Eli asked with a raised brow.

“Of course not!” She laughed, “But that’s what I’m naming him.”

“Zoe…” Eli questioned. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you? It’s not a good idea to name your dinner.”

“I know that! But Carlos is not dinner!”

“That’s right, he’s not!” Troy agreed as he played with the animal by Zoe’s side. “He’s our new friend!”

Eli shut his eyes and shook his head. Zoe, too?

“Zoe,” he tried to reason. “We’re supposed to be hunting, and….”

“Eli! We have plenty of rations right now,” she insisted while Troy shot a smug grin Eli's way. “And he’s far too cute to be dinner! He’s not dinner… he’s… he’s our… our….”

“Our mascot!” Troy shouted.

“Our what?”

“Our mascot!” Troy repeated. “We can bring him back to Olympus, maybe make him some clothes! The kids will love him! He will help with morale.”

“Clo… clothes?” Eli astounded. “Did you say make him clothes?”

“I did,” Troy nodded.

“That mouth of yours does nothing but talk dumb shit, does it?” Eli asked.

“Eli!” Zoe scolded. “Be nice! You’re going to hurt Carlos’s feelings!”

Eli dragged a hand down the front of his face. “Not you too, Zoe?”

But he knew fighting this was futile; Zoe had already scooped the animal up in her arms, he was coming home with them, and not as supper.

“Hunting’s over!” She announced. “Let’s return to Olympus and bathe Carlos before introducing him to everyone.”

“This isn’t happening….” Eli groaned.

“Oh,” Troy smiled as he clapped his friend on the back. “It most certainly is.”

“We should have brought Angel and Shannon along,” Eli lamented. “We need other opinions!”

“Oh, sure!” Troy laughed. “They would have been on your side! Angel would already be teaching it tricks, and Shannon would have burst into tears at the mere suggestion of making Carlos dinner.”

“He’s making sense,” Zoe shrugged.

“And that alone should convince you this is a bad idea!” Eli groaned, but he just followed behind in defeat.

~~~~~

Several hours later, Eli sat in the corner of the great room, still shaking his head in astonishment. The rest of the colonists had gathered, and it seemed everyone was fussing and cooing over Carlos. What's worse, the rodent simply reveled in the adoration. He returned to repairing his bow, muttering unintelligible words under his breath. But when the crowd thinned as people began to retire for the evening, Eli addressed Zoe.

“Where is that thing going to sleep?” he asked.

“Carlos is going to sleep in my room tonight,” Zoe replied, snuggling beside the little guy on the couch. “Walt and Mina said they’d build him a new pen in the morning, but he’ll be with me tonight.”

Troy, who had since joined Eli in the corner, made a poor attempt to conceal his amusement.

“I’d try to make friends with Carlos if I were you, Eli,” he jibed. “Because it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.”

Troy's laughter intensified as more garbled words fell from his friend's lips, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up on him.

“It’s OK, Eli,” he needled. “I understand. I’d be pissed if that cute little guy was getting all the cuddle time with my girlfriend, too!”

Eli turned to him slackjawed, with his eyes bulged wide.

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Riiiiight,” Troy hummed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Troy! How many times have I told you….”

“What? She’s your friend? Right? And she’s a girl? So…..”

“Does that make her your girlfriend, too?” Eli shot back.

“No, because I don’t get that stupid look that you do whenever she walks in the room. Also, I’ve never been spotted sucking face with her on top of a Ferris wheel.”

“TROY!” Eli hollered, causing the others to turn their way.

“Is everything OK?” Zoe asked.

“Peachy!” Troy saluted before smirking at Eli. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he whispered, “but I’m not above bribery. So, get over there and introduce yourself to Carlos properly.”

“Troy… are you freaking kidding me?”

“Come on, Eli,” Troy winked. “It’s for the good of the colony.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” Eli stood up and walked to the couch, where Zoe remained snuggled with their new mascot.

“Yes,” she beamed at Eli.

He wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, but seeing her so happy filled him with a warmth he didn’t quite understand, and it took all he had to keep from grinning.

“I’ve been advised that Carlos is probably staying.”

“He most certainly is.”

“Then I guess we should become better acquainted.”

“Yey!!!” Zoe enthused, gently clapping her hands. She sat up straight and held Carlos out to Eli. “Come! Sit with us.”

“You’re not going to make me hold him, are you?” Eli groaned.

“Mmmm… we’ll build up to it,” she smiled, “baby steps.”

Eli patted the capybara’s head, and a trace of a smile appeared on his lips when the creature nuzzled against his hand.

“See!” Zoe squealed. “He likes you!”

“He… he is kind of cute,” Eli surrendered.

“Hmph! And you wanted to make him dinner!”

“Zo!” Eli quickly covered Carlos’s ears. “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of him.”

Zoe chuckled as the most enchanting grin appeared on her face.

“Did he win you over?” She asked. “Or are you afraid he’ll come for you in your sleep if you aren’t nice to him?”

Eli was about to answer when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. “None of the above,” Troy laughed, then quickly headed toward the door. "Option number three. It’s definitely option three.”

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @gryffindordaughterofathena @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations

WTD Only: @kyra75 @cariantha @lilyoffandoms @missameliep

#wake the dead #wake the dead choices #eli sipes #troy hassan #eli sipes x f!mc #eli x zoe #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #choices monthly challenge

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angeliclp · 3 years

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I will forever and always love my portuguese boys and support them no matter what but... right now I am feeling so bad for my man Willi Orban... first the ball deflects from his heel into the net and then he caused a penalty...

#I am always in an emotional predicament whenever there are Leipzig boys involved #and right now I feel so sorry for my capi #Willi Orban #Hungary NT #Portugal NT #euro 2020

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antiloreolympus · 2 years

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10 Anti LO Asks

1. I'm going to put my money on Persephone reuniting with Hades in less than a month. Imagine a few chapters equating a day or two of being sad, then around 25 chapters of those two determined to do something about the "punishment" for maybe a week, then something big and dramatic (possibly Kronos related) interrupts for around 50 chapters, with only like three hours passing, soon culminating in the two seeing each other, running over, and making out.

2. Lore Olympus fans use “it’s a retelling” to defend it but do they realize that by their logic they can’t complain when a piece of media portrays Hades as bad or *gasp* not in a loving relationship with Persephone because it’s also a retelling

Of course I’m not saying it’s ok for Hades to be portrayed as Satan 2.0 but I’m just saying that LO fan can be very hypocritical

3. I follow a pretty prolific fanartist and they posted a picture of a stern looking man with blue skin, red eyes, and dressed in a military uniform, and saw LO fans claiming they "didn't draw Hades right" because he was wearing white and had dark hair (mind you, the artist doesn't even follow webcomics, much less LO) so they were confused over these fans getting mad at them and how they "stole" from Rachel. It turns character was Thrawn from Star Wars, a character that has existed since /1991/.

4. I'm sorry but PURGATORY???? Rachel can't even pretend to try and be remotely accurate, she's literally just doing her standard WASP viewpoint and slapping Greek names on it and claiming it's researched. The Ancient Greeks' view of the afterlife and death was not how Christianity viewed it, but god forbid Rachel show this in her "super researched" GREEK MYTHOLOGY comic.

5. Man, RS didn't even do slavery how the ancient greeks did (which regardless is bad no matter what) but rather how the american south did it, which is objectively even worse/more cruel than a lot of ancient systems' use of slavery. like how did she pick a bad system and pick the worst possible option in that system to base it around?? rachel we know youre white but this is so??? gross???

6. im just focusing on the fact hxp in this had a NORMAL height difference at one point and rachel was like nah that makes her look too much like an adult, better make her like 3 feet tall in heels while he's a skyscraper and start overemphasizing how childish and tiny she is in comparison. rachel stop being weird challenge (impossible difficulty)

7. idk if it's a just a random conciendence but there is something so ... off in how it seems so many of the LO designs are either ripped from Disney (Hades, Persephone, Demeter, Eros, Apollo) or DC's version of the gods (Eris especially seems like a direct rip off).

8. It's kind of disturbing Rachel seems to think Hades actually looks good for thinking the only thing he can do with the Shades is just suffering, worse suffering, or the worst suffering. The afterlife in ancient greece was not seen as a cruel place, yet Rachels seems to think he's looking cool and charming for it?? Even if it's a "Persephone can fix him" idea (which is so awful to be promoting as "romance") how are we supposed to buy he's "changed" from being a violent torturer and slaver?

9. Even if the "unpaid labor" is supposed to be a joke that's gross to joke about?? I'm all for dark humor but there's a big difference in the "comedy" when it's coming from a literal king who prides himself on always having all the power and wealth for himself and is known for his physical violence against against anyone he feels slighted by/doesn't care for. Also, it really doesn't seem like a joke, it seemed like him bragging and being upset Persephone wasn't hanging off his every word.

10. Hades also doesn't pay his interns too, which even the worst companies have been paying their interns for years now. He literally makes sure he gets as much money as possible while the rest rot away for his benefit and yet we're supposed to find it charming. Rachel must be a staunch capitalist because I have never seen someone so into fawning over corrupted wealth and power like she does.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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palaugranetes · 3 years

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🔵BLAUGRANETS🔴

9 August 2021

Riqui: This silence is deafening.

Carlitos: It really is so loud in here.

Riqui: 🙂

Ansu: We're mourning.

Riqui: For the past 4 months??

Ansu: What's your point?

Ronald: Does he ever have one?

Ansu: Good point

Riqui: 😒

Ansu: 🤗

Ilaix: 😬😬

Ansu: I'm still mad at you don't talk to me

Ilaix: Me?!

Ansu: Yes

Ilaix: What did I do to you?!

Ansu: You know what you did

Ilaix: If I did, I wouldn't have asked you.

Ansu: Well.. figure it out then.

Ilaix: 🤦🏿‍♂️

Arnau: Trouble in Paradise?

Ansu: Shush

..........

Francisco: I miss you guys

Riqui: 🥺🥺🥺

Pedri: Same same

Iñaki: So we aren't gonna talk about it huh...

Oscar: 🤔🤔🤔

Iñaki: oh come on.. It is a real thing.

Riqui: I don't know what you are talking about

Iñaki: So Denial it is

Pedri: 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

...........

Frenkie: Hey!!

Oscar: 💙💙💙

Frenkie: How are we feeling?

Ronald: 💔

Frenkie: Exactly that...

Riqui: I said. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.

Carlitos: Me leaving for good.

Riqui: shut it

Carlitos: Loving the affection.

............

Dembz: 😐

Ansu: stop it

Riqui: I swear to God.. Not another word

Ansu: I TOLD YOU WE ARE MOURNING..YOU POKED THE BEAR.

Riqui: 🙄🙄🙄

.........

Arnau: So.....

Riqui: I said not a word. What part of Not. A. Word. Did you not get?!

Arnau: I was only gonna ask about Geri's selfie series.. What's that about?

Riqui: Oh😂

Riqui: It's funny

Ansu: Is it?

Riqui: It is if you knew the reason behind them.

Ansu: And you do?

Riqui: What makes you think I do?

Ansu: I don't think.. I'm just asking you

Ronald: Someone say it.

Iñaki: When has a thought ever graced your brain.

Ansu: *gasps*

Ronald: 😂😂😂😂 thank you for not making me say it

Ansu: @Oscar come get your boy

Oscar: I'm not here.

JC: Give the little dude a break. He's hurt.

JC is typing...

Ansu: Thank you! You're the only one I trust in this house

JC: You should wait till he is fully recovered.

Ansu: ��😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐

Dembz: Ouch

JC: 🤷🏾‍♂️

10 August 2021

Riqui added Eric

Riqui: WELCOME BACK!!!!! AND WELCOME TO THE NO ADULTS ALLOWED HOUSE

Eric: Why are you yelling at me?! I'm standing right next you.

Eric: I can see your fingers going crazy on the keyboard! Chill!!

Riqui: This is what I get for being happy you're back😒

Eric: I'm just saying.. No more redbull for you after 2 pm

Ansu: WELCOME BACK MY GUY😍😍

Eric: 💙❤

Pedri: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Eric: Dude I have not seen you in 3 hours.. It's odd @Pedri

Pedri: 😂😂😂😂

Eric: 😂

Riqui: Ojitos how are you feeling? @Oscar

Oscar: I'm okay.. how are you feeling?

Riqui: Swell

........

Frenkie: Congrats guys!! @Pedri @Oscar @Eric!!!🥈👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Oscar: 💙💙💙

Pedri: Thanks bro!! 🤗🤗💙💙

Frenkie: And welcome on board @Eric!!👊🏻💙❤

Eric: Thank you!! Happy to be here!

Arnau: Welcome back Capi! 😉😉

Eric: Hahaha 😜 gracies nanu💙❤

----------

Francisco: Hey guys!!

Pedri: 🤗🤗

Riqui: Hii💙❤

Francisco: How are things?

Oscar: That question has so many branches and answers..

Oscar: Be more specific

Francisco: Well.. um..

Francisco: let's start easy.. how are you guys doing?

Riqui: We are kinda okay kinda shocked kinda drained tbh

Pedri: That is pretty much exactly it.

Frenkie: You are not kinda drained kid.. you need a 3 week nap.

Eric: Agreed.

Ronald: I concur.

Pedri: But I don't want to?

Oscar: You have to.

Pedri: But I miss you guys

Eric: I have literally seen you in the past 3 months more than I've seen my family the whole year.

Pedri: I wasn't talking about you ..

Pedri: or Oscar

Oscar: 🙂

Frenkie: bro, trust me .. you need to take some time off now cause for damn sure we won't get any later.

Riqui: Sadly, I can't say I relate 🙄

Ronald: And EXACTLY because of that.. @Pedri you need time off

Dembz: Welcome Dude!! @Eric!!👊🏿

Eric: 💙❤

........

Carlitos: NANUUUUU!!@Eric

Eric: YOU'RE HERE!!

Carlitos: In all aspects but physically.

Eric: 😅😅😘

Ansu: Finally someone on my side! I am so happy you're back!!

Iñaki: Welcome to the sole cause of my sleep deprivation @Eric!!!

Eric: 😳😳😳😳

Iñaki: You'll understand soon enough

Ansu: There is something called "Mute"

Iñaki: 😒

Eric: Ooooookay 😂

12 August 2021

Riqui: Y'all I'm really going to be wearing the 6🤯🤯🤯

Ronald: Yeah.. And for what

Riqui: Don't ruin my mood

Ronald: I'm just saying

Riqui: I SAID DON'T RUIN MY MOOD

Ronald: I AM NOT TRYING TO!!

Ansu: Riqui don't make him Angry! You won't like him when he's angry

Sergiño: 😂😂😂😂

Ronald: ha ha ha hilarious

Ansu: Thanks I know

Frenkie: Anyone has an idea of how we are going to play on Sunday??

Riqui: I'd say it will involve me sitting on the bench

Sergiño:🤦🏽‍♂️🤦🏽‍♂️

Carlitos: 🤷🏻‍♂️ beats me

Arnau: And @Iñaki and I will be with you the entire time @Riqui

...........

Francisco: Every time I open insta I see a Selfie of Geri.. Someone explain!

Riqui: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Ansu: Apparently Riqui knows but he is being quiet about it

Francisco: What's that about??

Riqui: Engagement

Francisco: But why that specifically

Riqui: Look all I said was that he might want to be more engaging online.. TW is great and all but IG has more pull

Francisco: And that resulted in the selfies?!

Riqui: I didn't know he'd do THAT😂😂

Pedri: Did you ask?

Riqui: ofc I did.

Francisco: And?

Riqui: He said he was bored.

Francisco: Well he sure looks it.

Riqui: 😂😂😂

Francisco: Don't tell him I said that 😳

Francisco: I don't want what happened to Ous to happen to me

Pedri: 😅😅😂😂

Riqui: Nah bro, I got you

Francisco: 🥺🥰🥺🥰

Pedri: 💙💙💙

Eric: What happened to Ous??

Riqui: Geri hacked all his socials.

Eric: 😳

Riqui: 😂

Dembz: Yes very funny

Eric: Why though??

Dembz: It's all because of Curls and Tiny

Riqui: 😇

Iñaki: please don't remind me.

Eric: You too!?!?!

Iñaki: I had the misfortune of standing next to them

Eric: Yikes.. what'd he do to you?

Iñaki: Nothing.. I sent him a gift basket and a card

Riqui: 😂😂😂 He was never under threat in the first place😂😂

Iñaki: WHAT?!

Riqui: Geri told me.

Iñaki: WHEN!?

Riqui: The day after my punishment

Iñaki: I hate him

Eric: 😂😂😂 wild

Iñaki: 😩😩😩

13 August 2021

Francisco: FELIÇ ANIVERSARI GERMANET!!🍿🍿💙❤ @Riqui

Riqui: 🥰

Pedri: Happy Birthday bro😍

Riqui: 💙❤💙❤

Arnau: Feliços 70 nanu!! Per molt mes! 🧓🏻🤗❤💙

Riqui: 😂😂😂cabronazo❤💙

--------------

Carlitos: Felicitats petit!! 💙❤🍿💙❤

Riqui: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗💙❤

Carlitos: off we go for 2021-22

Sergiño: How are we feeling about this season?

Carlitos: I'll let you know later on tonight

Riqui: Sort! @Carlitos

Carlitos: Gracies nanu💙❤

............

Francisco: With the fans back!!

Pedri: 😍😍😍😍😍😍

Pedri: I can't wait for the Camp Nou to be filled with people!!!

Oscar: 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Eric: I have goosebumps just thinking about it!!!

...........

Carlitos: "Sergiño: How are we feeling about this season?" 🙃🙃🙃

Sergiño: Sorry bro

Sergiño: Long way to go

Frenkie: love you bro @Carlitos but I do not like you team.. so 🤷🏼‍♂️

JC: 😂😂😂😂😂

JC: We face off this weekend mon gars @Dembz😏😏

Dembz: Hahaha yeah!

14 August 2021

JC: You are going down

Dembz: On va voir mon petit

Ansu: 👀👀👀👀

Pedri: How do you guys think Leo is doing?

Frenkie: Pretty sure he's having all sorts of emotions

Ronald: Still can't shake seeing him in tears from my mind

Frenkie: Yeah man..

Pedri: I hate that I didn't get to say bye in person.

Francisco: Me too

Eric: sighs......

Pedri: 😢

Iñaki: Can we not do this again...

Iñaki: It's already 2 am

Riqui: Crying session at my house.

Arnau: It's true

Arnau: Join us

Pedri: 😢

Frenkie: See you guys tomorrow 💙❤

Ansu: Today you mean

Frenkie: That

Oscar: 🤟🏻🤟🏻

----------------

Riqui:

Eric: 😍😍😍😍😍

Ronald: 💙❤

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jhupaig · 5 years

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Here’s just a big ol list of facts that’ve crossed my mind lately buckle up

Satoru gets the biggest vibes from Bridge to Terabithia. Just. god. so much vibes. The forest. The imagination. The. father,,, who cares,,, but the relationship that’s so clearly stra i n ed,,,

But also on Satoru I feel like he’s just such a dunce that when he was in school several people would get crushes on him, and maybe even one or two would legit declare him their boyfriend, and he just?? would not realize. He’s so stupid.

He and Kohaku have stories and I wanna talk about em but I also just want them to tell em themselves like. gotta.

Evan likes early spring when the trees are just starting to turn green again and flowers are just starting to bloom. the other day I was lookin out the window at our neighbor’s tree, which got some white flowers on it, and he just plopped in with me and stared,,, it made him feel really nice and hh

Also his relationship with Yasha has been a thing I keep thinking abo u t but there’s also Aiko?? like,, he’s got no real relation to her but sometimes he does kinda glance back over to her like who the heck,,, also I told flame last night but I kinda wanna see yasha and aiko meet through him. Just put all these awkward old losers together.

I think Capy died by drowning. At first there was an image of him falling off a boat, but today he said just drowning in a creak, so I don’t know. It also feels like at least one sibling was around when it happened so hmn,,,, concern for that pers on,,, unless said person went on to be yasha’s parent. in which case sorry bout that childhood trauma but you still suck :///. Idk what the situation would actually be thou g h talk to me flame

I feel like he knows sign language though

I’ve yet to actually look into anything but that lady who likes to pat ns? suggested herself being a banshee. Like I’d have to look into that and figure out what the heck she’d be doing around the nightshits then but,,, it does feel kinda right so who kno ws

Dri is just really Ace and fox out there losing rights by calling him sexy like,, he really has no idea what that actually means, but he don’t really care either, it seems to be quite a compliment though.

Ro still will not tell me her sexuality. Literally the other day she was going through em like ‘Gay? Why the fuck do you think I am?? Straight? Ew next. Ace? babe I am literally SO sex. Bi? Pan? What the fuck?? Disgusting slander.’ -- I just. I do not know at all.

Ran has never kept a diary and she plans never to in the future. She might have some, but if anyone wanted to sneak a peek at them, they’re just. empty. Nobody shall know her thoughts, not even herself.

‘Fake David’ is a fun guy who I kinda wanna make into a real thing somehow. Cuz at this point he really does have his own muse and opinions and desir es.. He even got enough of his own ‘person’ (if it even counts as that??) to tell me that he prefers not to take the role of children or ladies, cuz he’s a goddamn coward I guess. But that aside like, yeah for those kids he’d look like david I guess, but when I imagine him 90% of the time he’s wearing this really long dark coat, like to his ankles. And Real David don’t wear that but y’know what live your best life I guess.

I started wanting to use Garry’s face again but I don’t know what for

Leia feels this song and hmn. concern. (lyircs,)

David probably watches a lot of how-to’s on youtube like,,, yes he’s technically super adult by now but also he. only knows so mu c h. especially when it comes to taking care of kids now,,, so hello youtube what’ve you got for him? What kinda life hacks? What kinda cooking tips? What kinda kid entertainment? pls help him internet-sama

oh also there was that dororo anime,,, that I wanna watch, but ahem. but that boy, hyakkimaru I’m pretty sure? I wanna use his face t o o. I got vibes for some stuff,,,,, don’t know much though,,,, but uh, that idea of making characters based on card suits-- last night I was kinda leaning toward spades. But today, after I remembered this boy, he kinda looked over at spades too, and nodded. So hmn. Though, he’s also good with clubs..

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spacegaysss · 5 years

Text

I have literally no excuse

Hey y’all! As some of you may know, there’s been certain things going through my head after last week’s clásico, this is the product of those thoughts. Enjoy! (And please remember that this is just a little trash that my racoon self found on the bottom of the dumpster that’s my feelings towards football)

PS: The moment that inspired it all:

Sergio pushes his hair out of his face as he makes his way over the pitch and into the tunnel. He finally feels his breathing and heart rate slow down, though the adrenaline is still coursing through his body. He has trouble calming down after most games, but he probably won’t get any sleep at all tonight. A Clásico is just… different. The stakes are higher, it’s not just about who moves on to the final of the Copa. It’s about… honor, club, rivalry, friendship, passion.

He’s incredibly proud of his team for fighting as hard as they had. For staying disciplined, fair and for pushing until the very last second of the game. He’s still lost in thought when he hears someone call his name. “Mh?” he turns around, trying to find whoever wanted to talk to him. To his absolute surprise, it’s Leo Messi who’s standing to his right in one of the corridors that lead deeper into the stadium’s catacombs.

“Hey, I was just wondering- the others wanted to go over to Geri’s- but I’m not really in the mood for.. Well what I actually wanted to ask is: Would you like to have a drink? With me?”

Sergio just looks dumbfounded for a second. Did Barca’s captain really just ask him if he wanted to go out with him?

“Why?”, he blurts out eventually, not really in control of his words yet.

“I just thought it would be nice to catch up, away from the drunk oafs we call friends?”

Sergio chuckles “Away from Geri, you mean”. Messi grins at his amusement. “Exactly.”

So they agree to meet up at Messi’s car after they’ve showered and feel and look halfway presentable again.

Sergio still doesn’t know what made him agree to go out with their rival’s captain, but tries not to question himself too hard.

It takes him a little longer than usual to go through his post-match routine with everyone pumped, dancing and celebrating. Just as he makes his way back from the showers, a towel slung around his hips, Marcelo throws an arm around his shoulders. “Tell me, Capi, you gonna join us at Piqué’s place for a little drink and dance?” He wiggles his eyebrows comically at him, insinuating God knows what.

Sergio just shakes his head fondly. Who would think that Barca and Real players would celebrate a draw together after a Copa match? “No, sorry. I really need to get back to the hotel. I’m beat man, you know I’m not getting any younger.” He feels a little bad for lying to his teammates when he’d usually be the first to agree to a party at Geri’s. But there’s no way in hell that he could tell his friends that he’s ditching them because he’s going for a drink with Leo Messi.

So he just smiles at his co-captain and hurries to get dressed and force his hair into any semblance of order. Once he’s satisfied with the way he looks, he grabs his bag and walks out the door. He hopes he won’t get lost trying to find the underground garage, but it can’t be that bad, right? He’s just never had to make his way through Camp Nou’s catacombs by himself. Lucky for him, there’s signs pointing the way to the garage, so it only tales him a couple of minutes.

Messi is already waiting for him. Sergio can’t repress the grin that steals its way onto his face when he sees him trying to act casual, leaning against the passenger door of his car. Though from the way he fiddles with his keys, he’s clearly nervous. “Hi, are you ready to go?”, he asks the shorter man as soon as he makes his way over to him.

Messi nods, unlocking the car and actually opening the door for him. Up until that moment, Sergio didn’t even think about what this meant. Are they going out as friends? They aren’t friends though. They’re rivals on the pitch and don’t really have anything to do with each other off it. He wonders if he should ask Messi what this “date” means.

“So, where do you want to go? We can’t really be seen in a bar together, I think.” Messi’s question rips him out of his musings. He turns toward the other and shrugs. “I guess we could go back to the hotel? We could just order something from room service or raid the minibar and you know… catch up.” He doesn’t realize what his words imply until he sees a blush rising from Messi’s throat up to the tips of his ears.

“I- I didn’t mean. You know, I just thought it might be easier. Because we’d have privacy. And wouldn’t need to-“

“Don’t worry about that, it’s actually a good idea.”

After he tells Messi the address of the hotel where the team is staying, they both fall silent. Sergio isn’t sure if that’s normal or if he should be worried that he’s offended the other in any way. It’s not long until they reach the hotel and drive into the underground garage. It figures that Leo Messi wouldn’t have any problems being granted access literally anywhere in Barcelona.

They carefully make their way up towards Sergio’s room (thank God for captain’s privilege so that he doesn’t have to share it with anyone), looking out for any hidden photographers. You never know if anyone’s lurking around the halls, waiting for the next big scandal.

Once they’ve reached the room, Sergio feels a little unsure about how to proceed. He should probably offer Messi a drink from somewhere, right? So he makes his way over to the minibar and looks for anything to take the edge of a little.

Once he turns back to the other man, a small bottle of red wine and two glasses in his hands, Messi has already taken a seat on the couch that’s located next to the doors that lead out to the balcony.

Sergio places everything on the small coffee table in front of the couch and sits down next to Messi. He turns sideways a little so that he can look at the other man and clears his throat. “So, what’s the real reason you wanted to meet with me… alone?” Messi blushes again and bends forward to unscrew the bottle and pour its contents into the glasses. He turns to Sergio and hands him one of them before he leans back on the arm of the couch, looking thoughtful.

“I didn’t want to presume anything, but. I don’t know, something seemed off today. Different.” He takes a small sip of wine before continuing.

“I don’t quite know how to describe it, I could already feel it during the game. And then afterwards, during the shake hands, I just feel like we had… a moment there?”

Sergio immediately knows what he’s talking about. How couldn’t he? Everyone was feeling especially touchy today, they couldn’t help being overwhelmed by the complete and utter relief after they had played so well. And Sergio has always been rather tactile. So

when he made his way over to Messi, he just kinda… grabbed him. Pulled him in and bent down to the shorter man to congratulate him on playing so well.

Sergio really doesn’t have any excuse for standing so close or for touching his forehead to Messi’s. It was just a spur of the moment thing. Not thought out at all. He’ll probably regret it tomorrow when it’s plastered all over the tabloids.

“Yes, I think we did. And you just wanted- to talk about that?” Messi chuckles at his hesitation. It has to be odd for him to see loud, happy go lucky, confident Sergio this unsure.

“You know, after everything that happened last year… After wasting so many chances, I just realized that I need to cut the bullshit. So this is what I’m doing. We had a great moment and I decided to spend more time with you.” He looks at Sergio defiantly now, like he wants him to argue. But Sergio has no such intention. Instead he shuffles forward on the couch so that he’s directly in front of the other man, their knees touching.

“I actually went through a similar process, you know? It also had to do with not taking certain chances, passing up on opportunities. But mostly it was about not telling people what I want. That cost me a relationship.” A bitter sweet smile passes over Sergio’s face at the memories.

He leans forward a little more and takes Messi’s glass out of his hands so that he can put it together with his own back on the coffee table. His hands shake a little, so he places one on his own knee while he rests the other one on the back of Messi’s neck, just like he had after the game. Slowly, he moves his head towards the other man’s until his mouth is next to his ear. In the softest way possible, he murmurs. “What I want right now, is to lay you out on that bed and to kiss and kiss you breathless.”

A shiver runs over Messi at his words before he turns his head just enough to catch Sergio’s lips in a heartbreakingly soft kiss.

#Sergio Ramos #Leo Messi #clásico #my writing #i repeat do not take this seriously

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sergio-para-siempre · 5 years

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Ooh, I’ve had this question for awhile so before I forget it again! How do you feel about nicknames for Sergio, Fernando and Gerard in fic and just in general if there’s a difference in fic vs in general? Like are there any you like or use or do you prefer not to use any? 1/?

I know in Spanish and English the pronunciation can be different but like for Sergio I’ve heard, serg/serge, gio, capi, there’s another one I can’t remember in Spanish that translates into basically like always happy go lucky/cutie? For Fernando, like there’s fer, nando, niño? Gerard, there’s Geri? Have you heard any others? 2/3

Have you read any in fic or tags on here? That were memorable? Or do you prefer using just their last name? Do you refer to them differently in different situations or with different people? Sorry!!!! This ended up being so much longer than intended, you can feel free to ignore this!! 3/3

Personally i use “capi” as my tumblr tag for Sergio, “Nando” for Fernando and “Geri” for Gerard.

In fic i usually use their first names outside of dialogue and within dialogue (and when it fits) i call Fernando “Nando” or “Fer” - just whatever feels better for the scene - and “Geri” for Gerard. I’m not the biggest fan of calling them by their last names in fic because it just feels very impersonal (and almost rude in a way) to me. I would never for example have Sergio refer to Geri as Pique in a domestic or established relationship setting because it has the risk of breaking the flow of the fic (I wouldn’t refer to my boyfriend with his last name either in that context) I only ever really use last names as a way to show that they’re maybe not on the best of terms yet. Like in my Serard soulmate fic, Sergio refered to Geri as “Pique” in his head until he figured out he was his soulmate and then it changed to “Gerard” as they got more familiar with each other (i doubt anyone noticed that tho 🙈)

With Sergio in general it’s a bit more complicated. I don’t really like using nicknames for him. Mostly because i like how the name Sergio sounds and also because i don’t really like any of his nicknames. A lot of people in our fandom and in fic too call him “Sese” and i HATE that nickname, with a passion. Not really sure why, but it just bugs me every time i see it somewhere and as far as i know there’s also no real evidence that that nickname exists for him outside of fandom.

Some of his teammates call him “Churu” and he also has that tattooed on his right left thigh just above his knee and i actually think that’s kind of a cute nickname for him, but i’ve never really used it myself.

And generally when i talk about football with people i don’t know all that well or are not that involved in the fandom i’ll refer to them with their last names, just because it’s easier and avoids confusion, but all my friends are very much used to me refering to sergio with his first name by now :D

Oh, also i just remembered: There’s a fic on ao3 by dollylux where Fernando uses “Magic” as a nickname for Sergio and i’ve always been sort of partial to that 😍

And as you can see there’s no need to apologize for writing a long ask, because i will somehow manage to write an even longer answer to it 😂

#Anonymous

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sataniccapitalist · 5 years

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“I often say that we live in an age of trauma. There’s a simple way to think about that. The world is so messed up, we’re having to invent new forms of mental imbalance just to make sense of our own inability to cope with it. The world is so messed up it’s messing with our heads.

Take the example of “climate grief.” Last year, the APA wrote a report which began to recognize that natural disasters and climate change were having severe, lasting psychological effects. That might sound obvious to you — but it’s a brave step. We don’t think hard or often enough of how badly we’re affected by just existing in times like these. Climate grief, I’d wager, will come to be recognized as a defining psychological imbalance of the 21st century. But it’s hardly the only one.

Just scanning the headlines is one long exercise in trauma. Yes, trauma. You see, you’re quite wrong to say “but we have it better than anyone before in history!” Do we? People in the middle ages, the dark ages, the Roman empire, and so on, didn’t have access to the kind of information or knowledge we do — at the tap of a finger, anytime, anywhere. If the planet was about to melt down — they wouldn’t have had a clue. Nor did they have the power to make the planet melt down. It’s the fools’ logic of an economist to say we are the most fortunate people in history — materially, perhaps that’s true, in some meaningless way. We’re not robots, after all. But psychologically, emotionally, we are constantly confronted by relentless, addictive flood of information which confronts us with death, harm, and ruin. That’s the stuff of severe, lasting harm. It bruises and batters us deep down in the soul to constantly “read” about — know about, think about, suffer through — the death of the planet, democracy, society, the future. It takes a piece of us with it.

(And so we are all grieving today. I say that, and I think people recoil a little bit. But don’t you think it’s true? Every single person I know is in a kind of deep grief — even if they don’t quite know it themselves. Think about the signs. Trouble sleeping. Anxiety, depression, brooding.

An abiding sense of sorrow — letting go of what can never be. The process of mourning — letting go a past that can never be again.)

As a result of this age of profound, shattering grief, when we mourn for so many things that matter so much, all at once, is that we are suffering through what might be called a loss of libido. (Sorry — don’t roll your eyes, because I don’t mean it in the most superficial terms, though it shows up even there, which is that we’re having less and less sex.) I mean it in the sense of Eros, life-force, will to live, to flourish, to realize ourselves authentically, fully, and fiercely. (You see all those young people giving up on their dreams? All those old people who only seem to care about themselves? All those politicians having creepy affairs but not having the courage or purpose to give a damn about society? That’s all the loss of Eros.)

It is as if our will to live — to live fully, authentically, well — is vanishing — and is being replaced by a kind of destructive, ruinous impulse instead. At a social scale, maybe a global one, not an individual one. How, exactly? Look at skyrocketing suicide rates. Look at how neighbor is turning on neighbor. Look at how country after country is retreating into its little shell. Look at how we give up on the challenges before us — the big four — climate change, inequality, stagnation, and division. We shrug, or hand our heads in despair — but either way, it feels as if we are defeated. This is a loss of libido, of Eros, at a social scale. What is replacing it is Thanatos, the death instinct. The impulse to seek vengeance, to take revenge, to burn the house down, when you cannot climb to its top. Eros seeks transcendence — the loss of the self, it’s merging and connection into a larger whole (isn’t that what you’re after when you’re having sex, falling in love, or appreciating a beautiful sunset?). Thanatos seeks annihilation — the exaltation of the self, as the only being, even at the price of the destruction of the world.

The truth is that we are surrounded by Thanatos. Immersed in destruction, because we are permeated by self-preservation. It has come to define our lives in ways we don’t see, appreciate, understand, or know. Technology, social media, is a mighty force of Thanatos. Rather than offering us genuine self-transcendence — like we might feel watching a beautiful sunset — it offers us nothing but unbridled narcissism. The annihilation of the world, so we are the only ones left standing. Look at me! Like me! I am the one that matters most! Capitalism, too, which created this kind of technology, is Thanatos in pure form. It tells you are inherently worthless, so then you compete for status through consumption — you are basically competing to be the only one that matters, with more money, toys, prettier partners, and so on. Thanatos-as-capitalism says it doesn’t matter if it costs the whole world, democracy, the planet, the future, society, even your better self — as long as you feel like the only one who matters, because it told you never mattered to begin with.

But that is exactly how you get to a planet melting down, democracy dying, society in tatters, nations divided, and a world this troubled. Thanatos is the impulse to ruin, destroy, and pillage, so that one can stand atop the wreckage, it is the aggressive, egoistic, domineering force in us. So quite naturally, when we build institutions and norms and values upon it — where else can we end up?

The 21st century is going to be a difficult decade. But the most difficult thing about it, perhaps, will be the challenge of building a world on Eros, not Thanatos. It’s funny — today’s leftists are already trying. What is the obsessive focus on gender and sexuality if not Eros? But it is a small kind of Eros. Eros more properly understood is the instinct to merge, to be one, to lose one’s self. It’s what you feel dancing at a nightclub, or at the pub with your friends, or when you see a little child’s smile. It’s not just sex — though that’s what today’s left has, a little childishly, reduced it to.

A world built on Eros would prize the fulfillment of every being within it as it’s first priority. Every river, tree, insect, and person. Flowing, growing, humming — maturing. Do you see what I mean? A river’s potential is to flow, an insect’s to fly, a tree’s, to grow — and yours is to mature into grace, truth, decency, courage, defiance, wisdom, passion, insight, love. When you stand before the flowing river, you feel a sense of oneness, don’t you? So the more flowing rivers there are, the more self-transcendence there is for you, too. In this way, all things are linked through Eros — your possibility is to maximize the possibility of all things, just as their possibility is to maximize yours.

Thanatos, sadly, finds its truest expression in modern American life. Why don’t people give each other healthcare? Why would they prefer to make their neighbours beg for insulin online? Why don’t they stop each others’ kids getting massacred at school? America’s unbelievably, strangely, weirdly cruel culture and abusive society are expressions of Thanatos. Everyone is trying to climb over everyone else — so no one really goes anywhere but down. Society has become one giant arena for bruising, battering, bloody competition. It is lethal competition, too — lose that job, there goes your healthcare, bang! You’re dead. So through America’s example, we see the lesson of Thanatos versus Eros spelled out very, very clearly.

Thanatos seeks your self-preservation, even at the expense of the destruction of all things, all beings, everything. The whole universe could implode, and as long as you came out on top, Thanatos would say all was right and just and well. But Eros seeks the fulfillment of all things, through you, precisely so that self-transcendence can happen. If there are no rivers flowing or suns setting over them — what is there for you to transcend into? Do you see what I mean? It’s a subtle point, so think about it.

When people are threatened, Thanatos kicks in. The self-preservation impulse takes over. The fury and rage of destruction mount. Having build system after system of Thanatos — capitalism, technology, and so on — we have also built a world where people’s selfhood is constantly, perpetually, severely threatened, whether through a lack of money, resources, time, or care, and so, quite naturally, they are trying to preserve themselves, instead of gently transcend themselves.

What are we really grieving for these days, my friends? Is it just “climate grief” which tears through us? Not at all. We also grieve for, are anxious about, dread the loss of, democracy, society, the world, civilization, and the future. Yet grief is best understood as the loss of Eros, an opportunity to reach self-transcendence that is now gone forever — which one must let go. When you “grieve” for a parent or spouse or friend, that is what you are really missing — the merger, union, that you felt with them. And you can feel that loss of Eros everywhere in the world today. In the fury that’s sweeping the world, for belonging, for meaning, for purpose. In the rage that’s ripping across country after country, to be seen and counted as someone that matters. That is what I mean by the “loss of libido.”

Thanatos came to replace Eros, as capitalism and technology swept the globe — people, constantly threatened, adopted an aggressive, hostile, destructive stance, in the name of self-preservation. It doesn’t matter if we destroy the river, the tree, the insects — as long as I preserve myself. But then there is nothing left for us to transcend ourselves with, either. So in that way, capitalism and technology have also led us to give up the will to live fully, authentically, honestly, expansively — because doing so always recognizes our highest need is for self-transcendence, even though our first one is for self-preservation.

All of which leads me to a simple conclusion. The 21st century must be a time of Eros, if we are to heal this broken, troubled world. Not because I say so. But because we need to heal from the ruinous malaises of the ages of capitalism and technology. The anxiety and fear and isolation and meaninglessness they brought with them. We need to grieve, and grieve deeply, for all that we harmed, hurt, lost, abandoned, and ruined, in order to live again. And that is what is really being tested in this strange, difficult, century. Whether or not we want to live again. The alternative is, as it has always, been, death. The age of Thanatos is coming to an end. But will the age of Eros begin? That, my friends, is the question.

Umair December 2018″

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mafiabosstsuna · 7 years

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Tsuna, Enma and Reborn seducing a maid they fell in love with

COMPLETE

Admin Adelheid

Tsuna

“Master? I brought you tea.”

Tsuna felt his heart skip abeat at the sight of you as you rolled the tea cart in. He closed the book hewas reading and gave you a smile. “Thanks.”

You love it when he smiledlike that. True to his nature he made you feel warm inside whenever he did so.And even though you did not smile often you couldn’t stop yourself from smilingback.

You served the tea on thesmall table, too busy to notice when Tsuna walked up behind you. You almostjumped out of your skin when his hand grazed your bare arm oh so lightly as hereached for a pastry you had just laid on down. It had been so subtle, so lightand yet so incredibly warm your breathe backed up in your throat and your heartstarted beating crazily.

You turned around to facehim in a rush, almost toppling backward when you found him just barely a stepaway from you. Only his arm quickly snaking itself around your waist saved youfrom falling over the tea set.

“Are you alright?” heasked, concerned.

Heat crawled up your neckas you stared back at warm, caramel eyes so full of concern stared right backat your shocked ones. The heat of his finely muscled body as he pressed youagainst it tightly made your mouth dry and your lips tremble even as your mindwhirled with confusion. Moving his leg a little you felt the fabric of histrousers rub delicately over the inside of your naked thigh and you had to biteback the moan the dribbled up your throat at the sensation.

What… What was going on?What are you doing to the Master?! Stop daydreaming! It’s not like this was thefirst time he’s done that, you should be used to it by now! He’s doing thisbecause he’s nice! He has been ever since he picked you as his personal maid! Capodi tuti capi or not, no matter how many people he killed he was different whenit came to you. He was different when you’re near! Because this was just hisnature, is it not? Because you were part of the Famiglia he had been workinghard to protect?

So why were you disgracingyourself in front of him like this?!

You push back and bowapologetically, struggling to fight your blush down. The hopelessness of yourfeelings pricking your eyes with tears. “I- I’m sorry, Master! I was justsurprised.”

“Gee be careful will you?”you almost gasped as he reached out and pulled your face up, forcing you out ofyour bow. And again you were treated by that warm, kind smile. “Can’t have mypersonal maid getting hurt. What would I do without you?”

Blushing harder than everand trying to stop yourself from falling further for the impossible you bow yourhead again once in apology and left the room.

As soon as you left Tsunasmirked sadly as he bit into the pastry he had used as another excuse to touchyou again.

“Just a little more,” hemuttered to himself as he stared at the hand that had wrapped itself aroundyou. “Just a little bit more and I won’t be alone hopelessly loving you likethis anymore…”

Enma

“Master Enma? You called?”

“Yes. Please come in.”

You opened the doorcarefully to see him standing beside his bed, already removing his tie. Hisexhausted face made something in your chest ache in sympathy and already youwere fighting the urge to offer comfort.

You had heard he had comehome from a long, tiresome meeting and when you had caught a glimpse of himfrom the hallway as he passed by you had noticed his shoulders were a littleslumped. His tread heavy with exhaustion as he walked. You had thought he wouldhave given an order for the servants not to disturb him but yet again he hadcalled for you. Like he always had since that evening when he noticed you wouldsometimes be the only one to greet him when he came back home. It had become sobad that the other servants were now deferring to you when they need to give orlet Master Enma know anything. It was like you had become his personal maid but…he never called you anything like that.

“Master?” you called out, alittle surprised when he started taking off his suit and shirt.

“Good you’re here,” hesounded relief and your mouth almost dropped open when he undressed to revealthe rippling muscles hidden underneath. You blushed bright and red, gratefulfor the dim light of the table lamp beside his bed when he turned to you in allhis half naked glory. “I need a back rub. It’s been a long day.”

You swallowed hard but youknew you had no way of refusing. Especially since he lay on the bed as thoughsacrificing his body for your leisure. He raised a brow at you expectantly, andsilently questioning your slowness.

You shake your head quickly,trying to get rid of the impure thoughts running through your head as he laythere on his back waiting for you. Swallowing hard you step forward until youwere at his bedside.

“Start with my chest,” hecommanded as he sighed and crossed his forearms over his eyes. “Then you can domy back. Use that massage oil Shitt P gave me for Christmas.”

Willing your fingers not totremble you picked up the bottle of lavender oil from the dresser and startedwarming your hands with it.

Come on why is your heartbeating faster? It’s not like this was the first time he’s asked you to dothis! So what if you’ll never get used to the feel of his skin under yourhands? So what if your breath comes out faster each time you run your fingersover a firm muscle? This was your Master you were talking about here! There isabsolutely no sense harboring feelings for him like this!

“Umm…” he moaned as youpressed on a particularly stubborn knot on his shoulder and you blushed andswallowed hard again even as your mouth turned dry at his pleased moan. “Dothat again…”

You were a slave to hiswords. A prisoner to his pleasure. Even as he turned on his back demanding youwork on the exhaustion knotting there as well you had to bite your lip to keepfrom kissing the back of his neck as he settled down to relax.

You left his room when you weredone and he was quiet and asleep. For a minute you had to lean against hisbedroom door as soon as you closed it from the outside, trying to get yourbearings, trying to get your sanity back.

Back in the room Enmasmiled into his pillow.

Next time… next time you’llbe ready for him.

Reborn

Reborn smirked as he sawyou in the empty hallway on your toes and rubbing insistently at a stubbornstain on the window. He checked out how your skirt pulled up as you stretchedyour arm up. His eyes softened when he saw the stray hairs that had escapedyour tight bun as you rubbed furiously.

A scheme made him smirkagain. He knew you would get mad but it was just too hard to resist.

He silently walked up toyou from behind and snaked his long arms around your waist even as his lipsfound the stray hairs on your nape and kissed them one by one.

“AH!” you practically jumpedout of your skin even as you moaned at the sensation of his lips. “W-wha―Master Rebon?!”

“Shhh!” he hushed you as hebacked into an empty room with you still held tight in his arms.

You tried to struggle evenas you blushed wildly at the mix of desire and anger at his boldness. “Wh- whatare you doing?! M- master Reborn?!”

“Has anyone touched youhere yet?” he whispered before delicately biting the edge of your ear and hashand digging low touching you between the legs. Forcing your skirt up with theaction.

“Wait. No!” you struggledand the only reason you were able to get free was because he laughingly let yougo. You glared at him, your face furiously red, your chest heaving heavily asyou tried to get your breath back. “Pervert! Master Reborn, why do you keep doing thiseach and every time?!”

You wanted to wipe thathappy smirk on his face as he brought the fingers that touched you up to hisnose and licked it slowly. “What’s wrong with checking up on what’s mine?”

You swallowed hard andblushed even harder at his actions but you rallied yourself with righteousindignation. “Stop kidding! I’m a freaking maidhere! I do not want to be kicked outjust because you’re bored and want to have fun! What you’re doing isdespicable!”

He pressed you bodilyagainst the wall, his face serious as he looked into your now wide eyes. “Didanyone say I do the same to all the maids?”

You scowled but you wereforced to answer truthfully. “No.”

“Have I ever been botheredby the fact that you’re a maid?”

“Not really.” You repliedgrudgingly.

“Have I ever made you feelless than a person when I’m around you?”

“…No, you don’t.”

His smirk came back and hepulled his fedora down over his eyes as he stepped back from you. “Then doesn’tthat mean you’re special?”

“Stop joking.” you told himtiredly. “You have a reputation to take care of. What would people say if theyfind out you’re after a mere maid?”

“Since when have I evercared what anyone else says?”

Even so you looked awayfrom him. How can you believe that it was possible for a man like Reborn couldwant you? It’s just not right. It’s just not possible.

“It’s alright, I knowyou’re not ready yet but you’re getting there. I’m a patient man.” He broke thesilence between you as he leaned back against the still closed door. But as youlook up at him you blinked at the sharp obsidian eyes that had suddenly seemedto be warning you, making your blood run hot and cold at the same time. “Justdon’t ever let anyone else touch you. I’m not above getting rid of my competition.”

#khr #sawada tsunayoshi #enma kozato #reborn #maid

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trapmoon-vibez-blog · 7 years

Text

🔫Bonnie & Clyde🔫

Warning- shit is about to get real.

"I've got ya now Jack, what did ya think you can run away from ya past and don't think that shit will come back and bite ya in the ass...well karma's a bitch " me and (Y/n) was surrounded by at least 50 goons, guns all aimed at us ready to fire any moment...I fucked up, we barely have any amno...we only had to do this last heist and we could've had it all...

{one week before}

"Jack I have to tell you something." we were currently in a cheap motel and I was sitting on the bed cleaning my gun, I looked up to see (Y/n) by the bathroom doorway fidgeting nervously, I sighed "what is it sweetheart?" I patted the bed to signal her to sit, she swayed slowly towards the bed "I'm p-pregnant." I froze...I going to be a father..a father..me?...oh my god!...we're pregnant?!...that's my child in her stomach!

"I'm sorry Jack! I didn't plan for this!" I guess she took my silence for disapproval, so I embraced her passionately but gently so I didn't hurt are baby "no no no I'm not mad babygirl...far from it! I'm so happy I'm going be a father!" (Y/n) embraced me lovingly and we was in pure bliss till I saw my wife look worried, so I gripped her shoulder while feeling concerned "what's the matter sweetheart?" she looked down "b-but J we barely have any money to support are self how will we support a baby?" she was right we are poor, I was an engineer at a chemical plant but I quit my job to pursue my dream of being a stand-up comedian...of course that didn't work out well...and (Y/n)'s job isn't enough for rent let alone a baby...I tried to stay away from the life of crime but I guess I'm gonna have to speak with an old friend.

"Don't worry (Y/n) we still have money, we will manage."

"yeah but J-" she went to speak but I interrupted her "Just worry about that baby, I don't want you to stress yourself out, okay?" (y/n) smiled at me and hug me again "I love you Jack, you don't have to go through this alone." I wrapped my arms around her small frame "together to the end?" she squeezed me tighter "always and forever, Jack."

After talking about baby names, how we would be great parents and all the stupid Christmas photos we would send (Y/n)'s parents, (Y/n) finally went to bed, so I snuck out of the bed grabbing the keys to the motel and headed out to visit Ricci.

I got to his mansion to be stop at the gate by his goons "Who are you? and state ya business."

"Tell him it's Jack and I came for a...favor." the goons both looked at each other then smiled "come in, boss would be happy to see ya."

I knew meeting him again would be risky and dangerous but what choice do I have...

The goons walked me inside his mansion and one of them went inside his room...I assume he is telling Ricci I am here but I have to be guarded so I hide my pistol inside my coat, luckily they didn't search me.The goon came out of Ricci's office holding the door, signaling me to go in.

Ricci swiveled in his chair facing me with a salesmen smile "Jack! how have you've been?! I haven't seen you since...what! are last juvenile escape, those were the good days, huh!"

I chuckled, coming over to give Ricci our signature handshake "yeah those days were wild."

Ricci waved his hand toward the sit opposite of him "sit down! we have to catch up Jacky boy!"

I sat down getting straight to the point "I came today cause I need a job."

Ricci chuckled darkly "you never change huh jack? always sooo blunt, lighten up will ya, now tell me why you reallu came for a job? cause the last we talked I was sure you was done being a criminal and shit, so what changed?"

I shook my head while smirking "same old Ricci, nothing gets pass you."

Ricci laughed "of course kid, how else did I become Capo Dei Capi! I wasn't sitting on my ass, now tell me why your really here? cause I don't have time for games Jack."

I signed "I need money cause my wife is pregnant and working as a comedian ain't cutting it, so I came to ask if you could give me a job that pays a large sum of cash, cause after this I want to be with my family."

Ricci pondered for a while "your family huh, I'm assuming ya mean (y/n), well maybe ya did change Jack...it's dangerous but I'm assuming you know this right, so are you still in?"

"yes." Ricci nodded his head "well have you ever heard of dr. Alric Schmidt I have information that he went rogue from the government and is hiding underground, he has all types of important rare subjects, experiments and all types of chemicals and shit! now what I need is 0.5 Proton, put it in this suitcase and I will give you these instructions and if everything goes good I will give you 1 million as a gift to your family capesh?

I knew this could possibly get me killed but I would do anything for (Y/n)...she has been with me this whole time taking my shit, she knows about my past with my abusive father, she stayed with me knowing that I'm damaged and always seems to make me feel like her king as she is my queen.

I shook Ricci's hand "If I'm able to get the 0.5 Proton for you and something happens to me can I depend on you Ricci...will you give the money to my wife."

"Jack you have my word, but now that we got business over with I wanna show you my new eye candy~ Harley get ya fine ass over here!" Ricci yelled.

"What cha need pumpkin~" Harley walk in the room and sat on Ricci's lap.

"Well I wanted my friend Jack here to meet ya, since we will be doing some business together~"

Harley popped her gum "soo why do ya need me hon." Harley replied sassily.

Ricci's demeanor changed from mock cheerful to anger "DON'T BACK TALK ME YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE!" Ricci jumped up and backhanded Harley causing her to fall on the floor. "get the fuck outta my face, you dumb slut, why can't you just sit pretty and keep ya trap shut, every time you talk you irritate me, GO!"

Harley glared at Ricci, then got up holding her cheek, she glanced at Jack and did a slight smirk before exiting Ricci's office.

Jack look at Harley then back at Ricci who was back to his 'cheerful' expression

"My bad, ya know how I tend to snap easily, I mean women ya can't live with em...nor ya can't shoot em...well I take the last part back!" Ricci laughed.

causing Jack to awkwardly chuckle "yeah I know what ya mean."

"Let's have a few drinks for old time sake, then you can go on ya merry way with ya wifey!"

"Alright, just tell me where ya bathroom is I gotta take a piss."

Ricci pointed toward the hallway down the right "I'll be in kitchen, if ya get lost ask one of my goons."

Jack got out of Ricci's office and made his way to the bathroom.

"Ya name's Jack right?" Harley grinned extending her hand out to Jack.

Jack smiled slighty and shook Harley's hand "and obviously your Harley."

"Yep but you can call me Harls!" Harley winked at Jack.

"So what do you want from me, I mean I'm sure you didn't come just to flirt cause I've already gotta girl."

"Well ~ yes and no...but I came to warn ya since you seem like a decent guy..."

Jack looked at her slightly confused "about what?"

Harley surveyed her surrounding "That man is not trying to help ya, don't trust him cause he is a sneaky rat."

Jack knew exactly what Harley was talking about but everything about the plan seem legit and Jack always knew how to escape a risky situation if the time came.

"Look Harley I appericate the-" Harley interrupted him "fine Mista, I just wanted to let ya know the deal you can do whateva ya want but don't say I didn't warn ya~."

As Harley was leaving I stopped her "why do you let him treat ya like that?"

She turned around 'cause Hon I find power to be quite the attractive thing, it can get ya a whole lot of things like respect fear and the freedom to do what ya want, besides I'm a bad bitch who can take what's dished at me and best believe I'm not the victim, ya just gotta know how to play the game in order to win."

I knew what she meant...but with power there will always be sacrifice...

I left Ricci's quarters and made my way back toward our room, to find the lights on and a furious wife sitting on our bed, I knew I was going catch a ear load.

"Where have you been J? do you know how fucking worried I was?!"

I signed, throwing my coat on the chair and sat on the bed "nowhere I just went out for some fresh air."

She got up "that was 3 hours ago?!...it's 4:30 am in the fucking morning, your normally sleep till 10 am! now tell me the truth J!"

I dramatically flopped on the bed "could we talk about this later, I'm tired."

"like hell you are, get yo ass up where talking about this now!"

I groggily got up "I went job hunting." well I wasn't necessarily lying.

"Jack you must think I'm stupid, I have been with you since we were kids so I know your up to something...are you cheating on me?" (y/n) voice cracked at the end.

"No I would never cheat on you (y/n) I guess.."

"I GUESS WHAT J! WE SAID WE WOULD BE HONEST WITH EACH OTHER SO TELL THE TRUTH!"

I knew I could lie to her anymore.

I got up and grabbed (Y/n)'s hand gently squeezing it "I was out speaking with mr.Ricci for a job." (y/n) violently ripped her hands out of my grip "no Jack, that man is shady! you know how much danger he'll put us through, he is a fucking coward that will leave us to die!." I glared at (y/n) "first of all, it's not we, you're not going..your pregnant and I know the risks of working with him but what choice do we have, jobs are barley hiring at this point!" (y/n) flinched by my sudden tone but yelled back "J were either in this together...or were not doing it at all, your choice!"

"NO (Y/N) YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING!"

(Y/n) didn't say anything, then I saw her start packing her clothes "where the fuck do you think your going!"

(Y/n) walked up to me poking my chest vigorously "like I said J where in this together or I fucking leave, like I don't understand you Jack I told you your not alone so why the fuck are you always leaving me out, knowing how much I love you." her voice cracked at the end and tears started gather up in her eyes, I know she wasn't going to take no for an answer and even though I love this stuborn side of her it could be quite the double bladed sword.

I sighed "shh shh don't cry princess, I will let you come IF you stay right along side me, no straying away and DO everything I say, got that?" I said sternly.

(Y/n) looked up at me with a slight smile and hugged me as if her life depended on it...we always completed each other, always had each others back and even in the most heated arguments we love even harder...(Y/n) is my everything.

"Is this the place Jack?" (y/n) whispered suspiciously while surveying the underground lab.

We were currently hiding in the bushes, awaiting the perfect time to ambush the guards.

"yeah, wait here." I was crawling slowly trying to not get caught, "but J-" I turned so fast not feeling in the mood for back talk, I glared at (y/n), causing her to put her hands up in mock surrender, I rolled my eyes and saw the other guard leave the area giving me the perfect chance to swiftly knock out the remaining guard.

We walked inside the tunnel, holding each others hand protectively as we cautiously look in the dark mold filled tunnel.

After a few minutes of walking we was inside a eerie large room to only see a chemical vat and a few doors.

"I don't know about this J, t-this doesn't look right, we should go."

I nodded cause the picture Ricci showed me of the lab looks entirely different from what we are seeing...though the address he gave was correct, I have a bad feeling about this.

"Going so soon Jack and (y/n)~, well that kinda makes me sad after all we didn't see each other since ya left me in that hellhole to die...but lucky enough for me good ole Ricci saved me and was kind enough to let me get my revenge!"

I knew who that croaky voice belong to...Marc Jones...we used to be friends, me, (y/n), Ricci and Marc till things went to shit and I left that life behind and create a new one with (y/n). I turned around slowly and protectively shielded (y/n) as she gripped my arm fearfully.

"Marc you know I would have never let you die in there but I didn't have the power or money to get ya out, ya gotta understand that?" I replied cautiously.

Marc eyes darken and his smile brighten "stop lying Jack be fucking honest and just say ya wanted to play house with ya lil whore, so ya left me without a fucking care as to how I felt! but I've got ya now Jack, what did ya think you can run away from ya past and don't think that shit will come back and bite ya in the ass...well karma's a bitch!" Marc and 50 other goons cocked there guns at us, awaiting Marc's order.

(Y/n) jumped in front of me screaming "W-WAIT! Marc we a-aren't the reason for you ending up in jail, it was Ricci who set you and Jack up that day, he is the reason you and Jack got caught selling his dope but the shit backfired on him when they traced the drugs back to him and he ended up in jail with you guys, Jack couldn't save you cause he barely made it out his self and I'm the one who convinced him to leave you there to rot not him so if ya wanna be mad a someone it's me you should wanna kill not Jack so please Marc let him go!"

I couldn't believe what (y/n) was saying "no (Y/n)! Marc don't listen to her I'm the one who had the choose to save you but I didn't, so please spare my wife...she is pregnant...with our child." I hide (y/n) along side me.

Marc chuckled "how cute!! do you guys see how loyal they are to each other, ohh how I wish you was like that with me, then we wouldn't be in this lil situation!" Marc turned to the goons "shoot them."

I waited for the impact of the bullets but that isn't what I felt...I was falling, I open my eyes and the last I saw was my (Y/n) getting shot as I was falling into the chemical vat I saw her drop off the railing and I blacked out to be reborn a new...as The Joker and ever since that day I swore I would be the one to burn Gotham to the ground.

Hey my lil lemonheads I hope u enjoyed the story, I'm going to bed cause it's 2:30 in the morning and my night owl azz need to catch some zzz's but if ya like my one shots plz vote, follow ya gurl cause I'm thristy and comment.

PEACE and DESTRUCTION my lil lemonheads.

MY WATTPAD

https://www.wattpad.com/user/Citrusdrop

#joker x reader #joker imagines #jared leto joker

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larkwinters-a · 6 years

Text

It gets bearable over time had been words he had heard spread around the halls of his home many times before. They had been said between low level members and high ranking members, like it was their god damn motto.

Maybe by it gets bearable over time they meant other things, like always living around guns, or the taste of whiskey or the stray leaves of papers that were detailed with plans. Maybe they had meant learning how to shoot a gun or how to defend himself in a fight or how to spot an undercover cop when he saw one. Maybe they meant waking up in the morning to hear about some new money laundering scheme or how the Irish mafia had betrayed them again or how someone had gotten the windows shot out of a car, so they’d needed to repair it.

But by it gets bearable over time, Lark knew they couldn’t have meant this.

The church smelled like wet earth. It was raining heavily and it had been for almost three days now, the church had the thick, rich scent of petrichor clinging to it’s ancient walls. It was an old building, having stood in this same spot for one, maybe two, centuries. Every Sunday, a vibrant mass was held, for those who believed, and Lark had passed it on a few occasions, only ever sparing it a passing glance out of the window of whatever car they had hijacked to do their illegal activity of the day.

Directly in front of him, past the rows of pews, past the large collection of flowers, and past the casket, there was a huge stained glass window. The rain rattled against it, the different coloured panes of glass speckled with rain droplets. The massive angel the window depicted had a rain stained face and if he had been younger or older, he may have thought it poignant, like she was crying. He didn’t find much poignancy these days.

By default, they were seated close to the front, a show they were putting on for the other mafia family members.

He had woken up late, but not so late that he had to rush, and he had watched his family as they prepared. His dad looked, as per usual, immaculate in a crisp black suit. There was a gun tucked in there somewhere, Derek was always prepared, always the over protective and overbearing father. His mom, on the other hand, dressed for a funeral like she’d dress for a wedding. Her smooth black dress swished with each step she took, the black fur coat she wore looking like something from a Bel Air neighbourhood than something one would wear to a funeral.

(She had reassured him that it was faux and then, he had checked the label just to be sure that she hadn’t lied to him.)

They sat in the pew, their faces showing no sign of whatever inner turmoil they may have been feeling. To their left, the patriarch of the family sat. Although semi retired, Emilio Winters was still just as powerful as he had been the day he had prematurely inherited the family business in the 70s. He had passed the title of Don down to his son, though he wasn’t quite ready to leave the family business altogether. He was untouchable and his shield extended over their family, from his children right down to, as they were dubbed, the twins.

Lark and his brother, Emilio jr, were, at the newly turned age of seventeen, the youngest members of both the Winters family and the mafia itself. They had grown up in this environment, the plotting, the violence, the illegal activities, so their normalcy had always differed from their peers. And that had been clear when, after being shipped off to a fancy private school, they had run into too many troubles with the other kids.

Or, as Emilio would have fervently pointed out to anyone who asked, Lark ran into trouble with the other kids and he would need to step in, because that’s just what their family did. They had been pulled out of school at eleven and had been educated by hired professionals from that point onward. There were many reasons cited for this but Lark knew it was his own fault. And it wasn’t a bad way to learn but Lark had missed out on too many opportunities to make friends.

So, when Adena had walked into his life, it had been a monumental occasion. Twelve years Lark’s senior, Adena had been the coolest person in the world to him.

In a stark contrast to other members, Adena had had the patience to deal with him. She had looked at the energetic twelve year old who had never had enough activities to keep himself occupied as someone to be nice to. As someone who wasn’t a burden. Their friendship had been odd, with Adena offering him a sort of mentor ship he never realise he had wanted. She had been the first best friend he had ever had. And she was the last one he would ever had.

In an action that was, retrospectively, not as meaningful as he had painted it in his mind, Adena had told him of a man she loved. A fellow mafia member, it had been a perfect match, and Lark, being the ever wise seventeen year old he had been then, had encouraged her to go for it.

He had watched her with him, the open flirting, the constant affection, and those small moments had produced in Lark an ever constant and ever aching need to find a love like that. When he had sat in the very same church to see them married, he had known he would stand at that alter and have someone walk to him, someone he loved.

He had told Adena of this wish. She had encouraged him to find his person.

(”You should seek love,” she said, shaking the orange juice carton. There was enough for one glass left.

“What if I get hurt?” he asked, watching as she refilled his glass.

“It’ll be worth it.” she said. “If you find that special person, it’ll be worth the risk.”

“What if I never find her?” His gaze flickered down to the juice, a bright orange against the white marble counter. “Maybe there isn’t someone out there for me.”

She laughed, a soft sound of disbelief. “You’ll find someone. And she will love you. You just have to look for her.”)

The silence in the church was tense. The ceremony was over, people began to shuffle quietly, picking up their things and sliding out of the pew they had sat in. His family were last to move, a sign of respect and gratefulness for the loyalty extended their way. They shuffled out, one by one, and Lark was last to leave. And that was only the consequence of Emilio tapping his shoulder, forcing him out of his head and back to reality.

He stood, to his full height, and slowly joined his family. There were gathered in a tight circle, quiet chatter being spread amongst them. It was all stoic, it was plans for the future, it was talking about filling the now vacant role in their empire, and Lark couldn’t take it. It was too much too soon.

Without a word, he broke away from the fray and moved down the aisle, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He kept his head down, turning himself as invisible as the teenage grandson of the Capo dei capi could be. There was eyes on him, as he tried to flee and it was grating.

Lark lifted his head and his eyes landed on the very person he had wanted to avoid. His heart stuttered in his chest. Don’t go over, it said. He didn’t listen.

Hesitantly, Lark approached him. “Declan?”

The look he was met with then was one of absolute fury. Red rimmed eyes met his and Lark instantly stepped back, his shoulders hunching in an attempt to make himself look smaller. He had never seen someone look so angry before, he’d never been the victim of such anger before.

“What do you want?” was the bitter response he got.

Lark toyed with the idea of staying, of striking up a conversation, and how it’d go for him. He toyed with the idea of apologising for disturbing him and then walking away, back to the safety of his family’s nest. A smart person would have gone for the latter; Lark went for the former.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I know this must be hard for you.”

Declan’s eyes were narrowed on him. The anger in them was palpable. “You’re sorry?” he spat.

“This has to be difficult for you.” Lark continued, the ground he stood on shaky. “We’re here for you, if you need it. If not --”

“I don’t want anything from you or your family.” he sneered. “You are the reason she’s --”

Lark understood why he cut himself off; it was too difficult of a word to say. The concept hadn’t cemented itself in his mind either. He had struggled to come to terms with it when he had gotten the news and he still struggled to make it solid in his mind, even now, as he stood in the church, moments away from lowering her into the ground.

“I find it difficult too.” Lark said then, hoping that their mutual pain would be a good bonding point. He wasn’t tactful and he still wouldn’t be in seven years. “We could talk? Or not. Or maybe you could talk and I could listen? I’m good at listening. I’m really good at listening, actually.”

Declan laughed, a sharp, biting and humourless sound. “Adena is dead because of you.”

“My family tried their best to --” Lark began.

“No,” Declan cut him off. “You.”

“I wasn’t there.” Lark reasoned. “I even wasn’t allowed to be there.”

“But she was promoted because of you.” Declan explained. “Your friendship, or whatever it was, got her to rise up in the ranks. Call it nepotism if you want, but she would never have done the things she had if you hadn’t grown so fond of her. You killed her.”

He hadn’t cried during the ceremony. He had kept himself composed because that was what he had been taught to do. They couldn’t be seen as weak, they couldn’t give even the closest people to them even an inkling of their emotions. They were stoic, expressionless, and calm. Lark had remained all three during the ceremony, his attention and gaze focused on anything but what was happening in front of him, and he had managed to hold up that family legacy. When he had looked to the other members, he had seen that they, although doing exactly what he had, were able to keep it together much more than he did.

And right now, he was about to break every rule he had been taught. His mouth parted slightly, tears welling up in his eyes until his vision was blurry. He saw Declan clock this, he saw the other around him notice, and he didn’t want to think about what they were assuming about him. He wasn’t crying for himself but they would think he was.

“It’s not my fault.” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have any control over what happens or any of the operations. I didn’t want this either.”

“Your family made their choice,” Declan stalked forward, he raised a hand, his finger pointed in Lark’s direction. “And I’ve lost the woman I love because of that. I have every right to blame you. I have every right to --”

“Mr Paolo,” It was Lacey. Lark could tell from her voice and the way her hand came to rest on his back. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He looked between them; he knew not to try anything with her right there, he would be hitting a shield that would ricochet a bullet stronger than his. He straightened up and gave a curt nod. He wore an indignant aura but even he knew not to start anything. Now wasn’t the time. That could wait until they were ten shots down and were more bold.

“I would like to thank you, Mrs Winters,” he said. “And your family. For paying for the funeral.”

“Adena was one of our own.” Lacey said. “We provide for our own. We certainly don’t make false accusations about each other. Especially in such a place, during such a location.”

It was a threat. Thinly veiled as so. In telling him their code, she was vaguely hinting about what happened when someone broke that code. She was vaguely hinting at what happened to someone who broke that code around one of her children. Declan nodded. He and his small entourage moved on, shuffling down the aisle to stand elsewhere, like their land had been taken.

Lacey used the hand she had on his back to guide him away from the grouping of people but she didn’t take him over to their family just yet. She faced him, her eyes scanning him and her eyebrows quirked ever so slightly when she noticed. She said nothing as she reached up and wiped the stray tear from his cheek. Lark bit his lip.

“Don’t rub your eyes.” she told him. “That’s make them red and your grandfather will ask why. I’m not in the mood for telling him that you’re allowed to have feelings, especially at a funeral.”

Lark sniffed. “I’m sorry, mom.”

“Don’t be.” Lacey said. “You did a really mature thing, offering someone support. It’s the one thing a person needs after losing a loved one.”

He nodded but he didn’t feel convinced. She placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His gaze steadily travelled up to her.

“This is not on you.” Lacey said. “Do not let his anger and grief cloud your view of the situation. You had no control over this.”

Lark shook his head. “She was my friend.”

“I know.” she said. “But we lose people, amore mio, you know this. If I could make it any easier for you, then you know I would.”

He let out a soft scoff but there was no malice behind it. “Great pep talk, mom.”

She gave him a knowing smile, one that suggested that they would have a more in depth discussion later, one that told him he could feel when all of this was over. She gently patted his arm.

“C’mon,”

She guided him back over to their small family, the two older men in a frank and business like conversation. Which, was always something that scared Lark upon hearing. As he watched them interact, from as far back as he could remember to now, he had never seen them have a conversation that would indicate that they were father and son. Lark hoped that he’d never end up with a similar relationship with Derek.

Lacey easily slotted in the space next to Derek, with Lark reluctantly joining moments later. A second after he did, he felt a sharp yet soft jab to his side. He turned his head to look at his brother. For a split second, Emilio looked as though he was worried before his expression moved into a grimace.

“Where’d you run off to, dork?” he asked. His words held no ill intent. He was trying to be subtle, the question a cover for the one he really wanted to ask but wouldn’t in public.

“Shut up.” Lark bit back. Just like Emilio, his words were a cover, answering in the way only he would; I don’t want to talk about it.

“Hey,” Lacey caught both of their attention. “Don’t even start.”

Neither answered her, they simply shifted where they stood. She shook her head and turned to Emilio.

“Keep an eye on your brother.”

Her words were hushed, as though she had forgotten Lark was there or perhaps, she was making it clear he wouldn’t be going off to be alone again. He couldn’t be alone; he couldn’t be trusted.

“Fine.” Emilio said.

Lacey nodded, though there was no signs of enjoyment on her face. There wasn’t any signs in fact and that, Lark knew from experience, was her expression for worry. She was worried about him. That made Lark feel uncomfortable.

“Did you invite Adena’s family to the wake?” Lacey asked, her question pointed at Derek.

“I sent them an invite, yes.” Derek said. “They didn’t RSVP but I’ve kept a table reserved for them, just in case they show up.”

“Ack,” Emilio Sr scoffed. “That girl’s family didn’t show up at the church, they won’t show up at the wake.”

“It might be hard for them to come.” Lark said and then, his grandfather’s heavy and scary gaze was set on him. He licked his lips. “She was their daughter, who lived in another country. They couldn’t fly out in time. Don’t speak ill about them.”

Emilio Sr nodded. “Do me a favour,” he said.

“What?” he asked.

“If you’re sad about this girl,” he said. “Do it in the privacy of our home. The people here will use it against you. I won’t have my family’s emotions used against them.”

“I’m sorry.” Lark apologised.

“Don’t apologise.” he said. “You have some time before the wake. Go home. Meet us at the bar.”

Lark nodded, he felt like someone had poured gasoline over him and they were now standing above it with a match, ready to drop it at any moment.

He began to move, breaking away from them but he heard his mother’s voice a moment later.

“Emilio,” she said, her voice stern yet smooth.

He groaned, muttered something under his breath, and when Lark glanced over his shoulder, he saw his brother come to join him. His eyebrows rose but he said nothing. They looked at each other for a moment before they made their way out of the church and into the rain. Emilio tugged up his hood. Lark didn’t bother.

There was a line of cars, all black and all sleek, and all driven by a chauffeur. Their car was new and fancy and far more expensive than it needed to be. It was silent as they climbed in and it remained silent after Emilio told their driver that they were going home.

He was being judged, Lark knew it. Of course he would be the one who tarnished their family’s emotionless in public policy, to the point where he was told to leave to calm down, like he was a child who was having a tantrum over something benign -- over something that didn’t seem so bad to the adults around him. It was embarrassing and it was just another reason he needed the day to be over. His bed sounded quite appealing at that moment.

The drive home wasn’t too long, only taking a few minutes longer due to the rain and the slowing of traffic as a result. It was hard to miss the big house, with it’s brick walls and large windows, some stained glass like in the church. It was an old place and when they entered, it was a quiet place. This was never usually the case.

The house had been in the family for many generations, and the halls were always bursting with life. There was always someone somewhere going to some other part of the house. Lark had grown up in the bustling environment, he had never been surprised to see someone he knew (or didn’t know) walking somewhere, with some sort of purpose.

Right now, with everyone heading off to the bar for the post wake part of the funeral, the house lay empty. The two sets of footsteps were the only sound, loud and unbearable against the marble floor.

Emilio wasn’t impressed. Lark just wanted to be alone.

“You have ten minutes.” he said. “And then we’re heading back. Gramps will be pissed at us if we show up later. If we show up half an hour late, we’ll look ungrateful and he won’t let us hear the end of it for months.”

“You could go alone, you know?” Lark suggested. “Nothing is keeping you here.”

“Call it a hunch,” Emilio said. “Or being absolutely terrified of mom, but I don’t think I can leave you to fester in your own sadness.”

“Wow.” Lark rolled his eyes. “I appreciate your belief in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Emilio apologised sincerely and then proceeded to ruin it. “But your sad is so loud. I’d just worry myself sick if I left you alone.”

“I’m not some fragile little kid, who’s gonna throw a temper tantrum because I’m a little upset.” Lark snapped. “I certainly don’t need my brother to babysit me.”

“I prefer the term brother sit.” Emilio said. He paused for a moment and then, turned serious. “I’m not saying you’re a flight risk, just that I’m worried about you. Adena was your friend. That can’t have been fun for you.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Lark said.

“Then the least you could do is talk to me.” Emilio said. “Shit, dude, I’m not like those other guys, I’m not gonna judge you if you want to cry.”

“Shut up.” Lark mumbled. “You can go back to the wake, I want to be alone.”

Emilio sighed, softly. “How about we just ditch the wake then?”

“What?” Lark asked, his brow furrowing. “You just said --”

“Fuck what I just said.” Emilio scoffed. “Isobel asked me to meet her at a club, we could go there. We still get the shots and none of the dreary atmosphere that makes me wish mom would let me carry a pistol.”

Lark shook his head, more in response to the casual manner Emilio spoke in. It might have been a testament to the way they had grown up, a childhood that was good but not entirely a childhood. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“It doesn’t sound like a good idea.” he said.

“It’s not.” Emilio said. “But it’s leagues better than sitting in a bar with a bunch of sad people.”

He thought it over for a few moments, nose wrinkling up as he did.

“Where is this place?” Lark asked.

“Other side of town.” Emilio said. “The offer’s on the table.”

Lark took in a deep breath. “Okay.” he said. “Let’s go.”

🐝

The club in question was a high end, recently opened place, with fluorescent lights marking it’s place amongst the other bars and nightclubs that lined the street. There was a long line of people, who weren’t dressed appropriately enough for the winter weather, waiting to get in, and that was a line they didn’t have to wait in.

With a simple flash of a money clip with a few hundred dollar bills in it, and a sly mention of their name, the underage twins were inside and seated in a fancy square booth in what was the VIP section of the large club.

Emilio and his current girlfriend were sitting together, Isobel had her legs over his lap, her heels dangerously close to grazing Lark’s arm every time she moved. They were currently laughing over a joke he hadn’t heard. Lark had seen the envious glances in their direction, men and women alike, who wanted each of them, or both of them, but couldn’t because they were dating.

Lark was, perhaps, the only one who knew the truth.

He set his glass down on the table, a square piece of furniture that was decorated with square patches of light on the four panels with a sheet of glass above, suspended on four metal pillars. This glass panel was covered in glasses, the shots the three of them had taken upon entering, the empty glasses of drinks that were yet to be collected by a disgruntled employee. Emilio and Isobel were both four drinks deep. He was still on his second, the lingering aftertaste was particularly gross.

Or maybe he just felt weird with having fun on today of all days.

He turned to his companions. “For people who aren’t actually dating,” he said. “You sure are acting like a couple.”

“That’s the point.” Isobel said, brushing some of her orange hair from her face. “We act like we’re dating so no one suspects the truth.”

“That’s the scam.” Emilio backed her up. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Yeah,” Lark said. “Unlike you, I’m fine with who I am. No need to hide it.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Isobel shifted then, moving across Emilio so she could sit between them. “You’re telling me that you’re proud of being a cute boy with no one to date?”

“I’m not interested.” Lark shrugged.

“That’s bullshit.” Emilio leaned over. “He’s a hopeless romantic. He’s looking for that one special person before he commits. Lark doesn’t do half assed. It’s all or nothing with this guy.”

Lark shook his head, a small smile playing at his mouth. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of options growing up but casual dating had never been an option. It felt too flimsy, too temporary. He hated the notion of being with someone for a short period of time, the feelings fleeting and the intimacy rushed. He wanted something big and explosive and that was something he was willing to wait for.

Or maybe there was just something wrong with him and that’s why people didn’t choose him as a romantic option.

“That sounds boring.” Isobel said and leaned over to pick up her drink. “Sure, hopeless romance is cute and all, but all that waiting has got to result in nothing but loneliness. I don’t want to be lonely. I want someone who’ll sweep me off my feet the moment I see them.”

“You need to be out first.” Emilio pointed out. “And you’re dating me right now, so you can’t, even if you found someone.”

“I can select my options.” Isobel said, scoffing lightly.

The two of them broke out into a small, playful argument that, to the unsuspecting eye, just looked like two lovers being teasing. Lark scowled a little at the display before he downed the contents of his glass and then, he moved.

“I’m going to get another drink.” he said. “And I think you guys need some shots.”

“I’ll help!” Isobel said, gleefully.

They shuffled out of the booth and then, made their way through the club. His hand remained on her back to help keep her steady on her heels. Her dress was loose, swaying around her hips with each step she took, and it matched what everyone else in the club wore. Lark, on the other hand, was severely overdressed in contrast. He’d always felt comfier in a sweater anyway.

They reached the bar in just under a minute and Isobel slipped into a seat, his fingers drumming on the surface as they waited to be served. On instinct, he stood half shielding her. He was unsuspecting in nature but he could handle himself in a fight should he have to.

“You know,” Isobel said. “I do think it’s awfully sweet that you take love as seriously as you do. I had always assumed you were just weird or that you were one of those people who didn’t believe in love.”

Lark sighed. “Thanks, I think.”

“It’s a compliment.” she said. “Did Emilio bring you here because of the funeral today?”

He glanced at her and she met his eyes. Hers were a radiant green, sparkling in the lights of the club. It was easy to tell she was young when you looked at them. He wondered if he had the same thing. He wondered if people looked at his eyes and saw everything he didn’t want to show.

And it didn’t matter, because the bartender came over a second later. Lark ordered their drinks, the shots, and then they only had to wait a few more moments before they were given them. Isobel handled the glasses, carrying them carefully back to the table and Lark followed after her. He watched the liquid sway in the small glasses and he knew it had nothing to do with the heavily music or avoiding the people who stumbled around them.

Once back at the table, Lark spotted Emilio not so discreetly sliding his phone away. They set the drinks down, Isobel reclaimed her seat, and Lark sat down next to his brother. They looked at each other.

“Mom?” he asked.

“Mom.” Emilio confirmed.

“What did you tell her?” Lark asked.

“Nothing.” Emilio said. “I didn’t answer her.”

Lark raised an eyebrow. The word dangerous instantly came to mind but he decided to blame that on his too loud feelings, the ones that were racing and out of control. They weren’t far away and they weren’t in danger here, there was nothing to be worried about.

He reached over, plucked up to shot glasses and handed one to Emilio and then Isobel. He took one for himself, his eyes on the blue alcohol inside of the glass.

“Let’s get drunk.” he said.

Emilio broke out into a grin. “Finally,” he said. “You’ve said something sensible today.”

Lark rolled his eyes but he was smiling. He held his shot glass up. The other two bumped theirs against it and then he throw it back, whatever alcohol was in it gave his throat a slight burn as it slid down.

“God,” Isobel coughed softly. “That’s awful.”

“Are you saying no to another?” Lark asked.

She grinned, her nose scrunching up slightly. “Bring it Winters.”

🐝

It was late when the trio left the club, a few minutes before last orders had been called. Drunk wasn’t the correct word to describe the state of Emilio and Isobel but they were far beyond tipsy. They were keen on leaning on each other, their footsteps fumbling with the added weight of the other. Lark walked ahead of them; Isobel called something out about getting an Uber. They could afford the high cost.

He wasn’t drunk himself, he hadn’t had much past the few shots he had taken. He hadn’t felt like getting drunk, he knew it wouldn’t have done anything to make him feel better.

They stood outside of the club, a trio of kids who couldn’t handle their alcohol and who shouldn’t have been served alcohol in the first place, and Isobel took a few moments to order their ride. It was cold outside and the rain had stopped some hours ago. The temperature had dropped, evidenced by the way Isobel now wore Emilio’s jacket. Lark, ever the stubborn boy that he was, didn’t have one. Unlike everyone else, Emilio hadn’t claimed that he should wear one.

Lark stood on the sidewalk, his arms wrapped around himself to keep even a fraction of the heat in, and his eyes narrowed around the dark streets. It was yet to snow this year, so far, all they had had was rain. He missed the snow.

A hand touched his arm then. Lark looked to the culprit.

“You okay?” Emilio asked.

“I’m doing better.” Lark said.

“You know,” Emilio said, raising a finger. “Adena would want you to be happy.”

“Isn’t that a line people use when they’re sick of someone’s pain?” Lark asked.

“Dude,” Emilio rolled his eyes. “I took you out so you could have fun, not be a dick.”

Lark looked at him, his gaze steely, and then, something caught his attention. He looked away from his brother and his fake girlfriend and followed the motion that had caught his eyes. It was a group of men, three of them in total, standing in a sort of semi circle. They were dressed in all black, so as to better blend in with the environment, and one of them seemed to be doing most of the talking. He looked frantic. He also looked familiar.

Lark hit Emilio a handful of times to catch his attention. Emilio hit him back before grumbling out a sharp what?

“Is that...” Lark’s gaze narrowed. “That.... That’s Declan, right?”

Emilio frowned, the corners of his lips tugging down. “What? How -- Why would he be out here?”

“I think...” Lark shook his head. “It is. But those are --”

Emilio peered forward, his own eyes narrowing. A beat later, he looked back at Lark, equally as confused and equally as sober. “No, no, that’s not -- Why would he be with them?”

Lark scrunched his nose up slightly, watching as they continued to discuss something, the conversation seemingly becoming more heated. Two things happened then; his curiosity won and his reckless side took over.

“What are you guys talking about?” Isobel asked.

“Family stuff.” Emilio said.

“What does it matter?” Isobel asked and then motioned to a white car that had just pulled up. “Our ride is here.”

“Yeah,” Emilio agreed. “Let’s just go home. We can tell mom and dad about it tomorrow.”

“Uh huh.” Lark nodded. “You do that.”

“Lark, don’t --”

Lark didn’t listen. He moved then, walking across the road and towards the group of men. He could hear the rushed and worried voices of Isobel and Emilio that got lower in volume the further away he got.

The group of men didn’t notice him, which he should have used to his advantage to change his mind. He should have turned around and headed back, gotten in the car, and gone home. Instead, he didn’t. Instead, he kept walking until he was directly at the group, taller than all of them but smaller in other ways. He should have taken note of this but he had never listened during his self defence lessons.

“Hey, Declan?” he called out.

The man looked over to him and let out an audible groan. This prompted the two men around him to see who had joined them. Lark instantly felt anxious when their eyes landed on him.

“What are you doing here?” Declan snapped.

Lark took in a shaky breath. “I... saw you and I wanted to know how you were doing?”

“Go away, Winters.” Declan sneered. He had said the name for a reason.

Lark looked around, glancing to the men around him. “Why are you here? Is the wake over?”

“That’s not your business.” Declan said. “Go. Away.”

“Hey,” Lark tried again, speaking softer this time. “I know you’re hurting because of Adena but you don’t need to lash out. We can help you. You can talk to me if you need to.”

Declan let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. Lark didn’t want to admit it but that stung. He just wanted to help.

“You and your family are so high and mighty, huh?” Declan asked. “You think you can fix everything.”

“You’re hurting.” Lark said. “I just want to --”

Declan lashed out then, physically. He punched Lark and it didn’t hurt as much as it shocked him. He moved back a step or two, his hand coming to his cheek to softly graze the spot where he had been hit. A small gasp left him. In all the years he’d been around them, none of his parents’ employees had ever dared to hit him. He wondered if that was just grief. He didn’t get the chance to find out.

“Hey!” Emilio shoved past one of the two men. He stood in front of Lark. “Don’t touch him.”

“There’s two of them?” One guy muttered to the other.

“Italians.” was his sneered response.

“Both of you should just leave.” Declan said. “You’re both so annoying.”

“Man,” Emilio sighed. “I’ve never liked you and you just made that a whole lot worse by being an asshole when Lark just trying to help you.”

“Go be helpful elsewhere.” Declan said. “I don’t give a shit about what either of you think of me.”

Emilio rolled his eyes and moved. He grabbed Lark’s arm and tugged him away from the fray. Lark was reluctant to leave, he knew that the man just needed help, he just needed someone to be supportive in a difficult time. He pulled his arm free from Emilio’s grip, who turned to look at him, brow furrowed and frowning. He was seconds from arguing, his mouth opening to do so.

Lark didn’t give him the chance to.

He turned around, facing Declan again. “I just wanted to help you. Our entire family does. You are a part of our family and we help each other. That includes you.”

“I don’t care.” Declan said. “You and your family can go to Hell. You are the reason Adena is dead. It is your fault she isn’t here anymore. And you can tell your mother that I said that.”

Lark looked at him for a moment, at the way his eyebrows quirked, how the corner of his mouth ticked up into a smirk. There was a chemical reaction in his chest, acid clashing with acid, and perhaps he had lived in a life which meant he perceived everything as a threat, but he was sure that was one, cleverly disguised.

Adrenaline fired up in his veins. He closed the distance in a few strides. He punched Declan in the face. The crack was audible. Declan gasped in pain, stumbling back a few steps. His hand was on his nose and when he pulled away, it was bleeding. His nose had been broken. He turned to Lark with dangerously angry eyes.

“You little shit,” he said.

“Don’t say anything about my mom.” Lark growled.

Declan was shaking his head now, his lips curling into a sneer. “All your family are is a gang of bullies, who don’t care when the people they employ get killed.”

Lark wasn’t new to the concept of grief. He knew how it twisted reality for people and made even the smallest of gestures seem different. He even felt it now, twisting inside of his chest and making him feel smaller and emptier than he usually was. Grief was powerful and grief was making Declan act differently from the person he usually was.

But this? This was betrayal. This was looking at all of the help and support his family offered everyone who worked for them and scoffing in the face of it.

“Adena loved us.” Lark said. “She was my best friend. My family cared about her. I cared about her. Her dying devastated me. I am so angry that she’s gone. I blame myself for it, the same way you do too.”

Declan looked at him for a moment, something causing his eyes to glaze over, and then, he must have seen red. He moved quickly, his movements a blur.

Seconds later, Lark felt his back meet the near wall, a pair of fists pushing harshly against his chest. Even then, as the tingling pain settled to a mere nothing, he decided not to lash out. Instead, he lifted a hand, stopping Emilio from doing something reckless. Their gazes locked; Lark gave him a curt head shake and Emilio didn’t look happy about it but he obliged anyway. Lark saw the way his hand reached around to his back, blindly feeling for a weapon he didn’t have.

“You don’t get to say that.” Declan sneered. “You don’t get to stand here and tell me you cared about her.”

“I did.” Lark said. “I still do. But you’re only angry because you blame yourself and you’re lashing out at me as a response.”

Declan glared up at him, his eyes narrowed sharply. He dropped a hand, it disappeared into his back pocket, and Lark watched his every move, his heart began to race. He could feel the change in atmosphere, how it thickened with each passing second. How it drastically changed from tense to intense when Lark heard the click. It was a switchblade.

Declan lifted the blade up; Lark involuntarily pushed back further against the wall, a subconscious attempt to get away from the weapon. His heart beat quickly and loudly, a sound that filled his ears. The rush of fear, however, was almost calming.

“Your family took the woman I love from me,” he said. “Maybe I should do the same to them?”

“What would that achieve?” Lark asked.

Declan’s lips curled up slightly, his grimace fuelled by pain. The tip of the blade hovered a millimetre above the base of Lark’s throat. It didn’t scare him, he had done some training that had ended in the same situation but mock. His trainer had always told him he was too soft to be a fighter, too gentle and caring to purposefully fight against someone with the right amount of raw power he needed to. Lark was beginning to realise that that had been right. He’d always been put off by violence, despite growing up as a child of the mafia.

“I will kill you.” Declan said. “For Adena, I will.”

Lark looked down at him for a moment, his mouth parted slightly. There had been one time, some months ago, when Adena had described her husband as passionate. He could see now that that passion was borderline, always on a thin, invisible line. It was that passion that had lead to them being here and now. It was that passion, however, that would get the better of him.

“Lark!” Emilio snapped.

Lark’s gaze shifted to his brother, just in time to see how he slammed an elbow in the face of one of the two men who had accompanied Declan. The sound of pain and surprise caught Declan’s attention and he tore his eyes from Lark. That proved to be his first mistake.

He moved back a step, giving Lark the room he needed to pull back his fist and punch him again. Declan cursed out and instantly swung back, a punch that Lark ducked easily. His fist cut up, easily hitting Declan in the chin. He reared backwards and Lark seized the opportunity to land a final blow.

His punch, however, was blocked mid swing. Declan caught his wrist and shoved him back towards the wall. Lark didn’t think as he used the opposite hand to deliver a hard left hook. Declan crumpled to the ground, Lark shook the stinging from his already red knuckles. He moved, his intent on helping out Emilio, the more capable fighter between the pair, but as he passed, something sharp and painful embedded itself into the muscle of his thigh.

The blade was pulled upwards, tearing through the muscle, and then it was yanked from his leg in a matter of seconds. Lark crumpled to the ground, involuntary tears filling his eyes, as he felt the warm liquid spill down his leg seconds later. It was instinct to press his hand against the wound, the material of his jeans having turned slick where they were stained. It left him open to an attack that came seconds later.

The punch was heavy and painful and it was enough to side him tumbling onto his side. The movement sent jolts of pain down his leg and he grunted, loudly in response. A hand grabbed his throat then, fingers digging into his neck so painfully Lark knew it’d bruise -- and not in the fun way.

Heavy grunting came from above him. Lark lifted his hand to protect himself but the grip on his neck was loosened to restrain the arm. It seemed, to Lark, like a dumb thing to have done, but moments later, he felt the cold steel of the switchblade pressed against his neck. He realised that he could, quite possibly, die.

He wasn’t sure if the tears that slide down from the corners of his eyes and across his cheekbones were as a result of the realisation or more involuntary ones from the pain.

Rain had begun to fall then. The droplets dripped over him, blanketing the ground around him.

“Where’s mommy to protect you now, huh?” Declan spat his words, the venom in them audible.

And in that moment, a trait was born in Lark. A trait that would later get him into much worse situations and into so much more trouble, a trait that would define who he was as a person; defiance.

“She’s gonna kill you,” Lark growled through gritted teeth.

Declan smirked, bitterly. “I’ll see you in hell, then.”

He slid the blade then, the sensation was sharp and painful, perhaps the worst he had ever felt, and there was a building flow of blood from the wound. Lark, far too quickly, came to the realisation that this might be it, he might not make it out of this, and that he hadn’t had the chance to speak to any of his family before all of this had gone down. He had, possibly, a minute to mentally think of all the goodbyes he could have said before --

Declan was thrown off of him by an invisible and near silent force. The sound that had proceeded the action was like an airy whistle, the tell tale sign of a silencer. Lark sat up quickly but the rush of motion and loss of blood instantly made his head swim. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, though he remained light headed.

Soon after, his eyes found Declan.

His crumpled form lay around a foot away from him, eyes unseeing. It had been a quick and simple shot to the head. Lark knew that it hadn’t been Emilio, he hadn’t carried a gun -- he wasn’t allowed to --, and it certainly wouldn’t have been one of Declan’s two friends. Lark knew who had been responsible and, reluctantly, he turned to look at her.

Lacey lowered her gun to her side. Her face devoid of emotions as she said something to her eldest twin. She handled Emilio the gun and he moved, disappearing out of Lark’s tunnel vision. A moment later, it was filled by his mom as she knelt to his side, to his injured side. She said nothing to him as she suveryed the damage.

“Lift your arm.” she said, her voice stern and tone flat.

Lark said nothing and lifted his arm.

Without a word, Lacey tugged down the sleeve of his sweater, down until it was past his hand, drowning his palm. She guided his arm up, her hand over his to keep it flat. She pressed it to the wound on his neck, tightly.

“Do not move your hand.” she instructed him. “Keep pressure on it. How is your leg?”

“It hurts.” Lark said, voice hoarse for a moment, and he felt weak and small; like a child.

“Of course it does,” Lacey said. “You were stabbed.”

Lark tried to find the words to say to form the perfect apology, but she didn’t give him the time. She got up and then pulled him to his feet. With an arm around him, she guided him away from the scene and over to the SUV that sat parked on the opposite side of the road. The door was opened for him and Lark peered over his shoulder, to see what had happened.

Three dead. And none of them were him. The rush of emotions that brought him was akin to a high he would chase for the rest of his life.

But right now, he was getting into the car, his favourite sweater stained with his own blood.

He sunk down in his seat and watched as his mother got in, the passenger seat occupied by Emilio. They’d have to explain what happened. Neither of them wanted to.

🐝

It was only natural that, with their line of work, the Winters would have a particular wing in their home dedicated to medical help. Lark had been there once when he had been ten and he had broken his arm. Now, he was having wounds stitched up.

Lacey hadn’t left him the entire time but she also hadn’t spoken to him, merely ushering him from the garage to the medical wing. She had then sat at the opposite side of the bed and said nothing while she had intently watched the proceedings, the poor nurse nearly shaking from the pressure placed upon her.

They sat in silence now too, Lark idly brushing his fingers over the IV that was in his arm, inserted on his wrist, and currently stopping him from being overwhelmed by pain. Lacey had her arms crossed over her chest, her expression still stoic. Lark feared he had angered her. He knew he had.

He wasn’t sure where Emilio was which upset him a great deal. He wanted -- needed his brother right now.

Lark turned his gaze to Lacey. She met his eyes.

“Mom,” he breathed out.

She moved, standing up, and for a brief moment, Lark thought she was going to hug him. He wanted her to. Instead, she merely sat down at the end of the bed.

“What were you doing?” she asked.

“He was grieving.” Lark said. “He just needed help. I wanted to help.”

“You should have stayed away after what happened at the church.” Lacey told him. “Some people struggle to handle their grief in a manner that won’t hurt others. You could have died tonight.”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

She moved then, getting up, and Lark thought she was going to leave. Instead, she cam closer to him and she put her arms around him. He hugged her back, eyes squeezed shut, as he allowed the embrace to warm him.

And then, they were loudly joined. Lacey broke the hug instantly.

Lark’s eyes shifted over to the door at the other side of the room as it was slammed open. He watched both his grandfather and dad enter the room, trailed by a worn out looking Emilio. His stomach twisted violently; he began to moved but had to stop when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his thigh. He couldn’t escape.

Emilio Sr reached the bed. Lacey tensed up visibly.

“You stupid boy.” The patriarch spat. “What do you think you were doing?”

Lark tried not to cry. He failed. The sight jolted Lacey into action immediately.

She moved around the bed, firmly and confidently placing herself between them. Anyone with eyes and common sense knew not to challenge her.

“Don’t you dare speak to him that way.” she said and the coldness to her voice radiated around the room. “How is this his fault?”

“It’s both of their faults.” Emilio Sr answered. “They ran off and got themselves into trouble. That has to be reprimanded.”

Lacey shook her head. “I choose when my child is reprimanded,” she said. “And right now, the last thing he needs to hear right now is how you’re disappointed in him or made at him. Just because you and your father thought that was the best way to deal with emotions too complicated for you to handle.”

“He could have died.” Emilio Sr countered. “They both could have and you want to spend time cushioning the blow of that?”

“I will deal with my own sons in my time. As their mother, it’s my job to do that.” Lacey said. “And at this moment, he needs the time to process and recover from it. Not to be yelled at.”

The tension was brewing, bubbling away under the surface, and it was moments from turning explosive. Lark desperately tried to stop crying, his hands scrubbing away at the tears, and he was beginning to feel extremely overwhelmed. Derek moved then, to step in, as he always did.

“You both need to calm down.” he said. “We’re not doing this here, right now. You can argue later but right now, we have bigger things to deal with.”

Emilio Sr grumbled something that sounded vaguely Italian before he waved Derek off. He wasn’t conceding, not entirely.

He moved closer, stepping past Lacey in a move that was dangerous. Lark looked up at him, eyes wet and breaths panicked. He needed to escape.

“You cannot be a valuable member of this family if you are seen as kind,” he said. “It is a weakness and I will not have my own grandson be a weak link.”

Lacey’s breath was heavy, her eyebrows furrowed in anger, and she was about to cause the start of an intense civil war but she was stopped when Lark spoke.

“It’s not weak to care about people,” he said, sounding as rattled as he felt. “We can’t be strong if we don’t care about each other.”

“There’s caring for your family,” Emilio Sr retorted. “And then there’s being spineless. You almost died tonight because you wanted to extend this kindness to people who don’t want it.”

Lark shook his head. “Declan just needed --”

“Stop!” Emilio Sr snapped, loudly and dangerous.

From the corner of his eye, Lark saw Emilio move towards him but Derek stopped him, a steady hand on his arm. The eldest twin didn’t seem too happy about this.

“You made a mistake and you need to accept it. You need to deal with the consequences.” Emilio Sr continued. “It was stupid of me to allow your parents to pull you out of training. You will become a standard member of this mafia and you will not be weak.”

Lark’s brow furrowed. His emotions raged in a conflict that he’d always had. It was a war between being obedient and doing as his family said or acting out, in the way his brother did, and doing what he wanted. Lark knew what side would win this time.

“Fuck you.” he growled and the room instantly fell silent.

He ripped the IV from his arm, a small bubble of blood popping up, and he moved, getting out of the bed. It hurt to stand, the pressure on his thigh intense and painful. Everyone had their eyes on him. His heart was racing; he was regretting everything he was doing but he coup;dn’t stop now. He was exhausted and he was done with being told he wasn’t allowed to have emotions.

“I just had to sit through a funeral in which my only friend was buried.” he said, the tears filling his eyes once more. “I’m allowed to be sad and I’m allowed to act out as a result. I’m allowed to be worried about others, especially when we feel the same thing. It doesn’t make me weak.”

“You show that kind of emotion in the field,” Emilio Sr said. “And you’re dead. Your parents won’t always be there to save you. You show that grief and it will be used against you.”

“I’m allowed to have emotions.” Lark snapped.

“This family didn’t prosper and survive based on emotions.” came the biting reply.

Lark took in a deep breath, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. He saw his father move then, stepping away from his brother, and coming towards them. He felt a burst of relief in response, he knew Derek would support him.

“Lark,” he said. “Your emotions are running high right now. It’s been an intense day. You just need to take a step back and calm down.”

That... was painful. Lark looked at Derek, at a loss for words.

“Derek,” Lacey said and it was clear from her tone that she wasn’t pleased with it either. “You’re taking his side?”

Derek looked over at her, a look of exasperation on his face. She met this with a frown. It was going to be a point of contention between them now. They were going to fight about this in private. Lark felt his heart begin to race. Everything was spilling out of control and he couldn’t keep the contents from pouring out everywhere.

He couldn’t stay here, he realised, the walls were closing in and he was fighting a losing battle. He shook his head, large tears spilling down his cheeks. He knew it was going to hurt, both physically and emotionally, but he did it anyway.

Lark walked away. He pushed past his family and strode out of the room. The halls of the home where deathly quiet as he walked, the only sounds were his heavy footsteps, and he kept going, his heart aching.

He soon made it to his room, the door slamming shut behind him, and he let out a soft grunt as he slid down onto the floor. He pressed a hand onto his newly stitched up would and bit his bottom lip to avoid any further pained noises. He accepted that he was going to be alone, that he just had to deal with this on his own, like he would always have to.

But a few moments, the door opened. Lark spotted a splinter in the wood from where he had just slammed it. A moment later, he spotted his brother.

Emilio closed the door softly and then leaned against it. His expression was unreadable as he looked down at Lark.

“World War three just kicked off.” he said. “Mom and grandpa are going at it. Dad is trying to keep the peace, as per usual.”

Lark said nothing.

“That was bullshit.” Emilio said. “That old man is so old fashioned it hurts.”

Lark chewed his lip for a few moments. “Do you think I’m weak?”

Emilio’s eyes narrowed and then he moved. He plopped down on the floor next to Lark. He leaned back against the bed and Lark turned his head to look at him.

“No.” he said. “I mean, you’re more prone to crying than anyone else, but I don’t think that makes you weak. People cry for lots of reasons. Anger, joy, sadness. I don’t think that makes them weak.”

Lark nodded, slowly. “I’m sorry I got you into trouble.”

Emilio shrugged. “I got to beat up some dudes. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Lark mustered a small smile but his eyes were downcast, on the floor. Emilio nudged him with his elbow.

“I’m just glad nothing happened to you.” he said. “We’ve only got each other in this mess. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s gonna take more than one stabbing to get rid of me.” Lark mused, nudging him back.

“Yeah, and now you have a dope neck scar.” Emilio said. “I’m losing my title as the coolest brother.”

“You never were.” Lark quipped.

“Hm.” Emilio nodded. “Maybe so.”

Lark looked at him for a moment and then shifted his gaze elsewhere. They sat in silence for a few moments, he wasn’t ready to admit that he could feel the stinging pain start to get worse, a dull ache spreading across his leg. They both wanted to avoid going back down there for as long as they could, until they knew it was safe.

Emilio shifted then, his elbow softly poking Lark in the ribs. “Don’t listen to them. You’re fine the way you are.”

Lark looked at him, fresh tears in his eyes. “What if I’m not?”

“You are.” Emilio said. “Don’t change for them. It’s only you who loses that way.”

Lark sniffed and look down at his hands, the way he toy with his fingers. “I’m a liability. Everybody knows, I’m just --” He paused for a moment. “I’m too soft.”

They had grown up too fast. They both realised it then and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Well,” Emilio said. “If you do have to change, then do it for yourself and not them.”

Lark smiled, almost slyly. “Are you scared of losing me, Em?”

Emilio was serious, almost stern, as he spoke. “I am.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Lark said. “You’re stuck with me.”

“You had better be right about that.” Emilio said. “Because we lose people all of the time. I don’t know what I’d do if one of them were you.”

It was too heavy and Lark was too tired. His smile was weak, barely there, but a smile nonetheless.

“Be the coolest brother?” he asked.

“By default.” Emilio said. “Which is never fun.”

“Hm.” Lark nodded. “You’re not gonna tell them after today, huh?”

“I never planned on telling them.” Emilio said. “Besides, I don’t have time for it, I’m too busy looking after you.”

“You should tell them.” Lark said, seriously. “They can’t make you change.”

“Yeah,” Emilio muttered. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Lark said. “It’s been too long of a day.”

It was strange, a sensation he hadn’t felt before, but he had the urge to lay down with someone, someone who wasn’t embroiled in his family’s affairs, and just get all of it off of his chest, to speak to someone who’s first instinct wouldn’t be to relay the information in a way that would backfire on him. Really, he just wanted someone to love, someone who would love him. He didn’t think he’d get that, not when he was like this at least. He had to change. It was as simple and as painful as that. He didn’t want to be that person anymore, so he’d become someone else.

He would have to, if he wanted to survive.

#self para tag

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