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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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GIFT .

Genre : Brother-in-law Jungkook x OC!

Warnings : Yandere Jungkook! Non Consent. Manipulative behaviour. Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, Murder

Author's Note : I love reading Yandere fics so I just wanted to write one!! Its very different from what I usually write... So proceed with caution.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time I met Jungkook , it was five years into my relationship with Namjoon.

Namjoon had told me all about his baby brother, a final year student in SNU. Jungkook majored in Business , training to take over the company business . Namjoon often mentioned that it was Jungkook's offer to switch majors that had helped him pursue his own dream of being a music producer.

So when he told me that Jungkook was on a break from university and his parents were looking forward to having a proper family dinner with all of us, I was excited to meet the boy , I'd heard so much about. Namjoon was endlessly fond of his little brother and I wanted him to like me just as much.

Namjoon and I had met seven years earlier in the University Library and had become fast friends. We were both quiet, intellectually driven individuals, preferring to spend our time in the library as opposed to partying with our friends. And yet, in a twist , against our family’s wishes, we had chosen not to pursue an academically driven career either. I’d always felt out of place in my own friend group, most of my friend from Journalism being extroverted and fun loving. Namjoon for his part had only two very close friends, Yoongi and Hoseok and preferred spending time by himself as well.

So it was only natural that we fell in with each other with ease. His beautiful dimpled smile tugged on my gut, even as his gentle nature and gorgeous mind made my heart pound. I fell in love with him, between the late night laughter in the library and the soft secrets whispered against my skin, in the privacy of his bed.

“Nervous?” His voice drew me to the present, fingers inking with mine as he lightly knocked his shoulders against mine, staring down at me with a dimpled smile. I shook my head quickly, squeezing his hand gently.

“Of course not. I just want him to like me.” I whispered and Namjoon chuckled.

“Jungkookie isn’t very expressive so don’t worry if he isn’t very vocal in his affections. He’s very shy with new people but I’m sure, he’ll love you.” Namjoon reached out and lightly, brushed the hair off my face before leaning down and giving me a quick kiss.

I gripped his waist, pressing in closer, lips parting instinctively , eager to chase the taste of him. He groaned and gripped my elbow, pulling me around to press up against the tall , lean strength of his body and this was it, this endless need to touch him even after seven whole years of being together. I moaned when he bit down on my lips, my back arching a bit to press into him.

“Hyung?”

We parted, surprised and I felt my face flame, lips slicked wet and no doubt red from where Joon’s teeth had sunk in.

What a first impression.

“Ahh… Jungkook-ah… You came out?” Namjoon looked a little flustered, dimples peeking out in an abashed smile as he laughed embarrassedly I found myself smiling at Jungkook, who looked nothing like I’d imagined.

I’d been expecting someone cute and friendly.

Jungkook was dressed in all black, tall and intimidating. He was also almost surreally beautiful, gaze piercing and steady as he stared at me. I felt an instinctive urge to hide, not missing the way his gaze trailed up and down my body, lips parting gently to reveal a pair of bunny teeth that looked jarringly adorable on a face that was , quite simply put, arrestingly gorgeous.

He hummed, still standing in the doorway, eyes trained on me and I swallowed when he smiled , wide and open. His tongue darted out, lightly licking his lower lip .

“Hi, Hana.” He said softly and I startled.

“Hana? I’m sure you mean noona…..” I laughed nervously and even Namjoon looked surprised and Jungkook merely smiled, shrugging.

“You don’t feel like a noona.” He said casually.

I merely stared at him, not sure what he meant. Namjoon laughed a little as well, moving over to lightly hug his brother.

“Yah! You’ve just met her. Isn’t it too soon to start being a brat?” He ruffled his hair playfully before turning to me.

“Come on, Hana. Come say hi to my parents.” Namjoon walked in and I rushed to follow him, pausing when I reached the doorway. I smiled at Jungkook, holding a hand out slowly.

“I’ve heard so much about you Jungkook, I hope we can be friends…” I said sincerely and he stared at my hand, not taking it. Instead he gave me another soft smile. Before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, making me jump .

“You don’t feel like a friend either.” He said with a shrug , before moving away, leaving me stunned on the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years later :

“Seven months? Namjoon we’re getting married in seven months! How am I supposed to plan a whole wedding , with you away from the country?” I asked desperately, watching as Namjoon sat with his head in his hands. He looked stricken, regretful and pained and I felt terrible for being unreasonable but it was impossible not to feel hurt.

“I know.. I know hana, I’m so fucking sorry. But this is such a huge opportunity and its not just me : Hoseok and Yoongi depend on me. I can’t screw things up for them too.” He whispered and I exhaled.

Namjoon had been offered a chance to produce for a very high end recording label based out of the US and they wanted him to stay there for a minimum of seven months. The offer had been a complete surprise, out of the blue and the timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d been accepted into an internship at a popular magazine and it would be impossible for me to go with him. And I was so desperate to go.

We’d never been apart for more than a few days, in the entirety of our relationship and the thought of not seeing him for months made me want to throw up.

“I’ve spoken to Jungkook. He’ll help you with all the things that have to be done. And I swear that I’ll be back at least a month before the date, alright? No matter what happens.” Namjoon said firmly. I swallowed, nodding nervously.

It was true that I didn’t like the idea of being away from Namjoon. But the thought of keeping him away from a dream that he had worked so hard for, was almost unfathomable.

Besides, Jungkook was reliable and sweet. The perfect gentleman. Especially now that he’d taken over as his father’s Executive Assistant, Jungkook was incredibly good at organizing and planning things out.

With his help, I could plan out our wedding to perfection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next five months were spent in a haze of appointments and fittings and bookings. Jungkook had arranged for a shift in my internship hours, so he and I could spend a solid four hours every day, visiting different vendors, picking out the perfect floral arrangements, napkins, brocade and what not. And for once, I found myself completely enthralled by the idea of spending money of frivolously pretty things. Whether it was the florists or the patisserie, the dress fitting or the invitations, I felt my excitement bubbling over , amazed because marrying into Namjoon’s family meant an unlimited budget and for once, I didn’t mind being extravagant.

What was more, I didn’t miss Namjoon nearly as much as I thought I would. Because deep down , I knew that he wouldn’t have enjoyed this all that much. And I would have felt guilty , dragging him everywhere.

And Jungkook was the one to thank for all of it. He picked me up everyday for an early breakfast , followed by hours of combing the streets for ideas and appointments. He was funny and enthusiastic, eager to help me in every way and I was so grateful that I couldn’t thank him enough.

“I owe you so much, Kookie. You’ve been a life saver.” I groaned, collapsing on the couch and dropping my head back against the backrest. Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on one of the Turkish ottomans and lightly grabbing my ankle, pulling my foot onto his lap. I flushed a little, still not used to how touchy he was.

Jungkook liked wrapping his arms around my waist when we were out and about, fingers fluttering up my sides or brushing hair off my face with easy familiarity. I didn’t mind. He reminded me of my little brother back in Ilsan.

Most of the people we met assumed he was the groom and Jungkook told me it would be better to keep up the ruse because wedding planners were more comfortable when couples came together and I’d agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. I missed Namjoon and I wondered if he would mind. But when I mentioned it in passing to him during one of our daily video calls, he’d merely laughed it off.

“You’re so tense, Hana. You should relax. Everything is going to be okay.” Jungkook said softly, soft fingers digging into the curve of heel before brushing the arch of my foot. I smiled when he tugged my foot close, placing it down on the firmness of his thigh.

I gazed down at him, feeling uncomfortably nervous. This whole thing seemed oddly intimate somehow and I felt the first tendrils of guilt begin to curl around my gut. I swallowed, hating myself for tainting something that was no doubt innocent. I ought to be grateful that my future brother in law was this kind to me.

“I know. Thank you. I just miss him sometimes.” I said softly. The fingers stilled on my foot.

“Only sometimes?” He teased, eyes narrowed and tone just a little colder and I hesitated.

“I don’t miss him when you keep me company. You help me forget that I’m doing all of this by myself.” I said honestly. Jungkook inhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to mine, holding mine with an intensity that made me balk a little.

“You mean, that?” He asked quietly and I laughed at how serious he looked.

“Of course I do. I was so sure this whole thing would be me being miserably lonely but you’ve kept me laughing and happy. I’m going to ask Namjoon to buy you something expensive and amazing when he comes back.”

“He already has something amazing. It’s the only thing I really want.” Jungkook said quietly, fingers stroking up, gently massaging my foot all the way up my calf. I groaned at how good it felt.

“Really what is it?” I asked curious.

Jungkook squeezed my knee before carefully placing my foot down , reaching for the other one.

“You’ll know soon, Hana.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, Namjoon called me exactly a month before our wedding date.

“Guess who’s leaving the God forsaken place this weekend?”

I felt warmth flood my insides, heart racing with pure joy, tears brimming over because I’d honestly resigned myself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it back on time.

“Monday i, I’ll be there. Can’t wait to kiss you, my love.” He whispered and I nodded, laughing.

Finally, Everything would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon’s flight was due to arrive late night ,somewhere between twelve and one in the morning. I’d taken a nap in the afternoon, so I could be up to welcome him back. Jungkook arrived at around seven with Takeout and flowers.

He didn’t ring the doorbell, letting himself in with the spare key I’d given him for emergencies. I found myself scrambling for my robe because I’d taken a nice long shower and slipped on a silk negligee, short and ending just over my knees . I could feel his eyes on me as I hastily tied the sash together, flustered. The robe wasn’t long either and I felt absolutely exposed, even worse than when he’d stepped into the dressing room during my fitting, offering to help me with the zipper.

“ Jungkook, what are you doing here?” I asked nervously and he shrugged, eyes still trailing over my legs, the skin bare. I felt his gaze like a caress and some instinct told me I was in danger. I shook my head to clear it. How ridiculous.

This was Jungkook. Sweet, wonderful Jungkookie. My best friend these past few months. There was no one else I could be safer with.

“I knew you’d be excited, what with hyung coming back and all. So, I thought I’d drop by and at least make sure you’re well fed.” He grinned, holding the tae out up. I smiled and nodded, moving to get plates and glasses from the kitchen.

I heard Jungkook moving around in the living room and when I went back in , I found that he had two glasses of wine ready on the table, an expensive bottle of merlot opened nearby. I smiled a bit, shaking my head.

“What are we celebrating?” I asked curiously and he shrugged.

“Namjoon hyung is coming back right? It means I’ll be getting my amazing gift tonight.” He said softly, picking his glass up and taking a sip and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re such a child. You can’t wait for a day to get your gift?”

Jungkook hummed. He looked ethereal in the dim golden light of the apartment. Like something out of a fairytale. All dark ebony hair and porcelain skin. I wondered, again….why he never dated. He was easily one of the most beautiful humans I’d ever seen in my life. And that voice.

The voice of an angel.

“I’ve been waiting for years, Hana. I’m sick and tired of waiting.” He said softly, voice low and eyes somehow dark and I tried to hold my smile.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” I grinned and he smiled, all teeth.

“Oh, I intend to. Thoroughly.”

I took my own glass and took a deep sip , before holding it against his.

“To no longer waiting and finally getting what we want.” I said cheerfully, thinking of the long months without Namjoon and the few hours till he would be back in my arms. Jungkook chuckled and clinked his glass against mine.

“To you, Hana.” He said simply and I blushed, surprised and flattered.

We ate the take out but just a few bites in, I felt my eyes getting heavy which was so unfair. It was barely eight. And I’d slept in the afternoon. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be up till Namjoon came home.

“You alright, love?” Jungkook asked sweetly , getting out of his chair and making his way over when I almost knocked the glass of water over, fingers trembling. I pouted, even as his fingers curled over my shoulders, gripping lightly.

“Why am I so drowsy?” I whined in desperation and he leaned down, lightly resting his chin on my shoulder.

“You need to rest, hana. Come on, let’s get you to bed…. “

Eyes heavy and limbs turning to jelly, I could barely blink as he reached down and scooped me into his arms , carrying me into the bedroom. I felt his fingers tug on the sash of my robe, a protest building up at the action but he shushed me gently.

“I’m just helping you out of this, Hana. Rest now… Namjoon hyung will be here soon and we have a long night ahead of us, you and I.”

I could feel my mind churn at that, confusion warring with apprehension because why was Jungkook inserting himself in tonight? What did he have to do with Namjoon and I ?

Sleep beckoned and I found myself slipping into the darkness before I could fully ponder on his words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sweaty and damp , body overheated and my head foggy. I made to move and felt my heart pound when I realized my hands were tied up to the headboard. I blinked, only to be met with darkness because there was something tied around my eye as well.

“Jungkook?!” I called out panicking and there was a low chuckle.

And then a very familiar scent.

Namjoon.

I sagged in relief.

“Joon…it’s you….” I breathed out . “ Come on, do we really have to do this right away? I wanna see you…” I whispered desperately.

Fingers brushed over my ankle and I jumped.

“Namjoon?” I whispered . The bed dipped next to me, and I felt the brush of his shirt against my bare arm. It was soft and silky , familiar because I’d bought it for him for his birthday and he’d sent me a pic of him wearing it, from the airport today.

“Okay… I’ll play.” I laughed softly. “ Just untie me… I wanna touch you..”

“Sshhh…..” A finger pressed against my lip and I startled. Throat dry, I gulped.

But I didn’t say anything, biting my lips nervously as I felt him climb over me, one knee on either side of mine, fingers curling on my thighs, lips pressing against my cheek. I sighed, relishing the soft press of his lips, up and down my neck, the damp wetness of his tongue as he licked the skin right after, teeth nipping gently and then with more force.

I trembled as soft fingers tugged on my negligee tugging the fabric up and away from my body, raising it up till it pooled near my chest. I felt the tug on my panties, yanking the fabric off and then the weight of him went away, a breathy exhale that sounded both calm and somehow desperate, his body moving down to lightly hold my knees, parting my legs.

I bent my knees, spreading my thighs the way he clearly wanted me to, hearing him groan in return. He used his thumbs to gently part the damp folds of my centre and I felt my entire body shudder at the press of his tongues against the most intimate parts of me.

Choking, I could only lay there and take it, his tongue licking the slick folds, over and over again with an almost curious insistence, like he was tasting me for the first time and I could feel his body trembling on the bed as he did. I felt his teeth tug on the hardened nub, bruising hard and yet somehow almost playful and cheeky and I found myself squirming in pleasure, wetness seeping out of me .

The tip of his finger found my slit, running up and done the length of it in a slow, gentle caress, gathering the moisture there and I trembled when he reached my clit, gently rubbing circles on the little bundle before moving back down to trace my entrance. I was so wet, getting wetter by the second and I’d never wanted to be fucked so bad.

“Please…..baby… I want you ….in me…” I choked out and he chuckled, a little mischievous and unlike him.

The finger dipped in, shallow and barely in and I whimpered in desperation.

“More.. Please…. I want more.. Want you… Its been so long…”

I felt him move back at that and then he was there, right between my legs. I felt the clink of metal as he unbuckled himself, the sound of his zipper and the rustle of fabric as he pushed his trousers off. I could feel the hard muscles of his thigh against the back of mine as he scooted closer, felt the brush of his hard length against my center, the head dipping in just lightly.

He pushed forward, driving in with so much force that my entire body shuddered in shock. And in just that second, I knew, with dawning horror…….

This was not Namjoon.

I screamed, so loud my own ears rang and a palm pressed down into my mouth, forceful and unrelenting. And terrifyingly unfamiliar.

“Hana…” Jungkook’s voice near my ear made me choke on my tears, my mind splintering in shock and betrayal, body going rigid in terror as he pulled out , only to slide back in.

“Knew it would be worth it, keeping myself pure for you….” He crooned against my skin and I whimpered, wetness spilling over my eyelashes as I tried to squirm away, my mind body and soul only screaming for the man I loved.

“Don’t worry about anything ….Hyung’s in a better place now. “ Jungkook chuckled deeply and I felt my skin go ice cold at the implication. He moved his hand away and I coughed, choking.

“Jungkook….”

The blind fold came off and he kept pumping into me, hips moving erratically, no rhythm or grace and it was obvious he’d never done this before, obvious in the way he looked : blissed out and feral, eyes unfocused as he stared down at me. I felt him tremble and shake, before going still . I felt warm wetness flood my insides and bile rose, nausea making breathing difficult. He stayed on me and inside me, his body so large and immovable, heavy and suffocating over my own.

“what are you doing Jungkookie?” I sobbed out in disbelief and he glared at me.

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing? I’m taking what I fucking deserve….” He snarled. “ Two fucking years…. He doesn’t deserve you. Spends all his days and nights holed up in that studio of his with his friends….leaves you to fend for yourself. You deserve to be waited on, hand and foot… you deserve the world, hana…and he wouldn’t let you experience any of it. Fucking bastard….

“No… No.. God …no..” I choked out. It was the shirt.

He was wearing Namjoon’s shirt. And his cologne. The shirt I knew my boyfriend had been wearing today. How did he get it??

Jungkook brushed his fingers on my cheeks .

“What’s wrong baby? Are you worried about him? Wondering where he is…” He chuckled. “ I told you..he’s in a better place right now..”

“No… you’re lying..you wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t I? You know me that well , hana?” He teased.

No. No I didn’t I didn’t know him at all.

“How about this? If you marry me…. If you let me have this dream wedding with my dream girl…. “ He smirked,” If you let me love you the way you deserve , maybe I’ll take you to visit him…someday. ”

I closed my eyes.

I couldn’t process what I’d just heard… I didn’t know… if he was bluffing. What if he had actually killed-

I couldn’t believe that. I couldn’t. It would break me.

“Okay… Just…please don’t hurt him…” I whispered.

Jungkook smiled.

“Just relax Hana. Everything’s going to be okay.”

AUTHORS NOTE : THIS IS LITERALLY MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS PURELY OUT OF IDLE CURIOSITY

~~~~~~~~~~~

#YANDERE JUNGKOOK #YANDERE BTS #yandere jungkook smut #bts smut

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eurydicees · 2 years

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here we are, the very narrowly on time ouran christmas fic!! based off of a series of asks from anons that i was unable to fulfill for like. a month. my bad besties. enjoy, and merry christmas♡♡

i'll be coming home for christmas, so please wait up for me

summary: kyoya goes home for christmas, and the hosts are waiting for him.

prompt: misc. christmas prompts

pairings: none

words: 2929

warnings: a few swears

There are very few times in the year when all of their schedules match up— now that the youngest of them have graduated from Ouran and gone into the wider world, it often feels impossible to get all seven of them into the same place at the same time.

Sometimes their meetups will be just three out of the seven, or four, maybe six of them, if they’re lucky. More often than not, they just stick to video calls at strange hours to accommodate different time zones, and a lot of money gets spent on international texting.

Most of them had left Tokyo for the great wide somewhere at some point after Ouran: Tamaki is spending his third year at the University of Tokyo studying abroad in London; Haruhi has a full scholarship to go to school in Kyoto; Hikaru is travelling, constantly mailing back postcards from exotic places that Kyoya couldn’t imagine himself going to in a thousand lifetimes; Kaoru had gone to Paris to study fashion; and Honey and Mori are both finishing their last years of university in Tokyo.

So when they manage to get together for Christmas in the winter of Kyoya’s junior year at Harvard, it’s a gift in itself that all seven of them manage to make it home at the same week.

He had gone straight from the airport to the first Suoh mansion, everything in him aching to see the others. He hadn’t known you could miss someone so much and in this way until his first plane to America had touched down at Logan— he knew that he was going to miss his friends, he was brave enough to admit that, but he didn’t know it would come with a deep chill that settles in his bones and lasts. Even after two and a half years abroad, there’s still a sense of loneliness that comes with being so far from the other hosts. His family.

Kyoya remembers his first year at school in America, and telling people what his high school life had been like: all of the things that the twins had gotten up to, all of Tamaki’s dramatics, all of the ways that Honey and Mori would make him smile, all of the things that Haruhi had helped him to learn. He remembers, too, all of the strange looks he had gotten when he explained that he was in a host club, and the even stranger looks he had gotten when he explained why he did it.

It comes back as clear as day— all of the ways he found to say, “It was because it was a crazy idea,” and all of the ways he talked around saying, “It was because my best friend asked me to, and I have never quite been able to say no to him.” It’s easy to reflect back on after having settled into American college life; having made people he wants to call friends, even if what he feels for them pales in comparison to the hosts; and having found himself in a way that he never would have been able to do if he stayed in Japan. It’s easy to look back on it and chuckle a little to himself, knowing that it would all work out.

That being said, though, it hadn’t been as easy at the time. It had hurt to be so far from Tamaki and the hosts, the only people who had ever truly known him. It had hurt to truly believe that no one else would ever love him in the same way, and it had been terrifying to think that he was losing them. He was going to be so far away, and it would have been so easy for them all to forget him. Tamaki had always been forgetful, and Mori had never been good at communicating with people who aren’t directly in front of him.

But none of that seemed to matter in light of the memories the club had given him. Honey had once said something about Kyoya being the one who needs the club the most— he doesn’t know if that’s true, not really, but he knows that he loves the hosts with a wanting that cannot be expressed in English or Japanese.

Kyoya, on his drive to see them again, is grateful every day that they didn’t drift apart in any way that matters. They didn’t forget each other, and for the first time in fucking forever, they’re all going to be together again. Kyoya is brave enough to admit that he’s been waiting for this, that he’s been counting down the days until a moment he wasn’t sure would ever come. He’ll be honest with himself, in this. He’s not going to say it to their faces, but he knows he can finally and secretly admit it in the quiet of his thoughts.

He also knows that the car is pulling up to the gates of the first Suoh manion now, and that’s all that matters.

Kyoya can’t stop himself from shifting in his seat, sitting up straight and leaning just slightly closer to the window. He’s been to the first Suoh mansion several times by now, but it never fails to catch his breath in his throat. Kyoya has never been able to find the perfect word to describe this place— it’s huge, majestic, beautiful, and so cold.

Cold— it’s impersonal, undecorated. It feels, sometimes, like no one has ever lived here. Kyoya remembers when Tamaki had first moved on, isolated from all of the people he loves, and the way that he had talked about it in hushed whispers to Kyoya: it’s like I’m a ghost; it’s like no one is living there at all; it’s like I’ll break the floor if I step too close to the cracks.

For someone so used to noise, to a loud mansion full of people that he’s kind to and are kind to him in return, the first Suoh mansion had been haunting. Kyoya didn't want any part of it. He got enough of that cold impersonality in his own estate. While his room is now decorated with scattered bits and baubles that Tamaki and the hosts had given him over the years, it used to be a steel gray room of neatly folded clothes and pressed button downs and vacuumed carpets. It used to be nothing more than a shadow of a life, something like a display room might look like at a furniture store. The entire first Suoh mansion feels like that, sometimes.

The car pulls up through the front gate, someone having let them in at some point. Kyoya unbuckles his seatbelt, already ready to jump out of the car and run into the manion to find Tamaki. He’s the last of them all to arrive in Japan, and so he’ll be the last one to arrive at the mansion. Tamaki had insisted that they all stay with him there, saying that the rest of his family are travelling without him and that he’ll be lonely in the mansion by himself. Tamaki had never been good with loneliness, and so they had each relented. They would indulge him in this.

As soon as the car has parked— or maybe just moments before— Kyoya is unlocking the door and jumping out, stumbling slightly on the gravel of the driveway. He makes it to the front door, and just as he’s about to knock, the door is flying open.

“Tamaki—”

Kyoya doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Tamaki is tackling him in a hug, throwing his arms around Kyoya and holding him tight enough to hurt. Tamaki is laughing into his shoulder, and fuck, it’s been a long time since Kyoya truly heard that sound. It sounds like coming home.

The first Suoh mansion is not a friendly place by any means, but Tamaki is there, pressing his forehead into Kyoya’s shoulder, burying his laughs into Kyoya’s collarbone, and so the mansion might as well be home.

“I missed you so much,” Tamaki whispers, and Kyoya’s heartbeat catches those words only to make his lungs seize up for a moment.

“I missed you, too,” Kyoya chokes up. It’s the truth, but it feels strange to say out loud. It’s something that he’s thought to death again and again in his silent dorm room, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and wondering what Tamaki is doing at that moment, fourteen hours ahead of him. But knowing that he’s missed Tamaki feels different when Tamaki can hear him say it. “I missed all of you.”

Tamaki pulls away, and Kyoya finally catches sight of his smile. He’s been waiting for this for so long, Kyoya realizes. They both have. The amount of time between them is finally sinking in— it’s been, what? A season? A year? Two years?— and Kyoya feels like his knees could give in if he thinks about how long this has been in the making.

“Everyone else is here already,” Tamaki says, as if their group chat hasn’t been blowing up with messages ever since people first started arriving and Kyoya doesn’t know this already, “come inside, Kyoya, come in. Tachibana can get your stuff, right?”

Kyoya nods, glancing back to see his three guards smiling at him. It’s been just as long since he’s seen the three of them— he had decided to forgo having bodyguards when he went to school— and he had been surprised by how nice it had been to see them again. Tachibana waves him forward, and Kyoya follows Tamaki into the mansion.

After he’s tugged his shoes off at the doorway, Tamaki grabs onto his wrist and drags him farther inside. They’re practically running, slipping on the slick floors of the mansion in an effort to get to the second living room where everyone else is. They skid around a corner, Tamaki’s laughter bright and clear, Kyoya chasing after him in the same way that he’s always chased after Tamaki: with a cutthroat craving for company, for respect, for friendship. Tamaki glances behind him only once, and his gaze is full of the same company, respect, and friendship— love— that he has always given Kyoya.

It’s easy to forget what it ever felt like to be lonely when Tamaki is dragging him along like this.

Reaching the living room, Kyoya is almost blinded by the light: a giant Christmas tree is standing in the corner of the room, but the sheer number of the lights draped over the branches seem to triple the amount of light in the room. Beyond just the tree’s lights, there are lights strung up around the room, alongside glittering tinsel that catches the lights and sends them dancing around the shadows of the room.

It’s ridiculous and over-the-top in every way that Kyoya can think of, but it feels so Tamaki that he doesn’t spend even a moment hating it.

Hikaru is the first of the group to turn around and see the two of them standing there, and the smile he breaks open is brighter than any other light in the room. “Kyoya!”

“Hi,” Kyoya says, slightly out of breath. He feels so young again. “Hi, all of you.”

“Fuck, it’s good to see you,” Kaoru says, jumping over the back of a couch to get to him.

He has the same grin as Hikaru, but there’s a new piercing at his eyebrow, and Kyoya thinks he might have caught the glimpse of a tattoo on his wrist when his shirt sleeve slipped up. Kyoya doesn’t know how it took so long for the world to realize how different he and Hikaru are. He’s still smiling that Cheshire smile when he hugs Kyoya tightly. His arms are a familiar weight around Kyoya’s shoulders, and Kyoya leans in to the hug as if he hasn’t had a true hug in years. Kaoru still smells of lavender. Nothing has changed.

“I got you a Christmas present that—”

“No presents until tomorrow!” Honey yells out, and Kyoya hadn’t even seen him from where he’s sitting by the crackling fire, but he’s impossible to miss, now. He’s gotten just a little taller, but maybe that’s just something exaggerated by the clothes he’s wearing. He’s exchanged his former lolita style for something more casual— jeans that actually fit, a sweater that looks much too soft to be real. “Kaoru, you promised you wouldn’t ruin the surprises!”

Kaoru rolls his eyes, one arm still draped over Kyoya’s shoulder. “Fine, fine.”

Kyoya can’t help but smile this time, because oh. Oh, these are his friends, his closest ones, his family. These are the people who mean more to him than anything else. This is something that he’s always known to some degree, but he’s never felt it roar up so passionately inside of him before.

He doesn’t remember the last time that he truly celebrated Christmas, but this has to count for something. This has to count for everything. He’s ushered onto one of the couches, and Haruhi shoves a mug of steaming hot chocolate into his hands. He hadn’t even realized that he had been cold until she had done so, and she rolls her eyes when she says something about Tamaki’s father not liking to spend money on heating during the winter.

Once again, Kyoya is filled with a rush of fondness as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate. It’s burning hot, scalding the roof of his mouth as he tries to swallow. Hikaru just laughs as he gags, nearly dropping the mug in an attempt to get rid of the burning sensation in his throat. He shoots Hikaru a glare, but there’s no weight to it. There hasn’t been much weight to any of his glares, recently. He’s been happy and unstressed in a way that he never was during high school— it’s nice, too, to show this new and shiny part of himself to the people he cares about most.

“How’s the hot chocolate?” Mori asks, sitting next to Kyoya. His voice is deeper than Kyoya remembered it being, and he recalls Mori once saying that it was hard for him to speak in video calls. It’s easier in person, and now, maybe, Kyoya can have this piece of him again. “I brought it back from Ghana.”

Kyoya takes another sip, and this one doesn’t burn his throat. He nods at Mori, giving his approval. “Better than anything from the dining hall where I’ve been eating.”

“That’s a low bar,” Haruhi says, breaking into their conversation.

Kyoya raises his eyebrows, about to tease her right back, but Hikaru beats him to it: “Still higher than anything a commoner could have come up with. Kyoya’s school is elite.”

“Not in their food,” Tamaki says, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve eaten in those dining halls. Disgusting, truly.”

“It’s edible,” Kyoya says mildly. It’s not an argument worth having, but it’s one that’s so achingly familiar that he can’t help but sink into it, drown in it, thrive in it. “I do eat it every day.”

Tamaki shudders. “I don’t know how.”

Kyoya smiles into another sip of hot chocolate. He can feel the chocolate staining his upper lip as he takes his mouth away from the lip of the cup, but Hikaru grins at him before he can make a move to wipe it away. He shoves at Hikaru’s shoulder before he can make a comment, and he just laughs loudly when Kyoya licks at his upper lip.

“You missed some,” Hikaru says, grinning as Kyoya sets the mug on a table in front of them.

Kaoru glances over from where he had been talking to Honey, and he glances from Hikaru to Kyoya, something seeming to pass over his eyes. “You missed some whipped cream there, Kyoya.”

Kyoya frowns at him. “I didn’t have any whipped cream—”

Then Kaoru is diving across the couch towards him, spraying a bottle of whipped cream at him, laughing as he falls across Haruhi’s lap. She’s rolling her eyes at him, but she can’t cover her mouth fast enough to stifle the laugh when Kyoya falls into Mori in an attempt to dodge the whipped cream.

Kaoru sprays the whipped cream again with a sputtering hiss from the can and a laugh form himself, the whipped cream ending up all over Kyoya’s face. He wants so badly to be mad at Kaoru, but the warmth of the hot chocolate is settling in his stomach and the laughter is leaving his tongue even as he thinks that he should be more upset than he is.

This is something that feels so like home that it’s impossible not to love it, impossible not to laugh. It’s childish and ridiculous and reminds Kyoya that he’s here. He’s with his best friends, and they’re the ones who are home, not this mansion or this country. It’s the hosts, and the way that their laughter seems to surround him like a hug.

“Fuck off,” Kyoya manages to say anyways, but he’s smiling when he says it.

Kaoru laughs as he sits up again, still leaning against Haruhi, but no longer lying on top of her. She elbows him in the side for Kyoya’s benefit, but there’s a smile on her face, too. Kyoya licks at the whipped cream around his mouth as he thinks, this is home, and that’s all that matters.

“Merry Christmas,” Kaoru says gleefully.

Kyoya just rolls his eyes. Merry Christmas. Yes— this will be a good one.

#my writing #ohshc #ouran high school host club #ohshc fanfiction #ouran koukou host club #ouran high school host club shenanigans #sir i just love them so much #this is literally so fucking soft

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Frustration

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,068 words

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been thinking of writing Genshin stuff for months now but haven’t, for various reasons mainly that being how much this blog is already a bit of a disarrayed mess. But after awhile I decided another fandom won’t hurt. Besides I think it’s better to write something than nothing, even if the fandom keeps changing. So… yeah?

This particular scenario was basically my day today. The characters have been chosen out of my own personal will. I was going to do Zhongli as well but I’m exhausted so if this is well received perhaps I’ll do that another day.

Also I’m so tired I’m halfway to a headache and feel a bit floaty so sorry if there are grammar mistakes and such. Anyways, hope you like!

Character Banners in progress

Ao3 link in reblog

Childe

“I’m gonna kill someone.” You muttered, slamming your weapon down on the table, causing the ginger next to you to start.

“As long as that person’s not me I’ll be glad to help you.” You weren’t sure whether you found the comment worrying, insulting, or charming, and decided not to reply, instead throwing yourself in the chair across from Childe, usually reserved for customers or some member of the Fatui higherups, though today you could care less.

“Hey, am I not good enough?” Childe half whined half joked. You only grunted before getting up and walking over to his chair, plopping yourself on his lap and promptly picking at a stray thread on his coat which had caught your eye and was now becoming an increasing source of irritation.

Taking this as a sign Childe gently pried your nails away from the offending thread. Placing your palms in his gloved hands he smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s this stupid ley line! You know, the one in the stone forest? I was commissioned to keep an eye on it, normal stuff, but this one seems absolutely crawling with all sorts of slimes and the like, hilichurls too and a stray bandit here or there. They keeping breaking the damn thing and the minute I fix it they’re back again. At this rate I’m not going to finish it!” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking of the hours you’d spent fighting with the thing. You’d even let out a few tears of frustration in the process, and having nothing to show for it was intensely irritating, to say the least.

“Poor darling.” Childe’s smirk was timeless, but there was a softness to it that you took as confirmation that he understood. I mean if anyone was going to understand it was going to be a member of the Fatui. As much as you disliked the group on principle, you did have to admit that Childe was certainly a hard worker, and running around at the whims of the far off Tsaritsa certainly had its trials.

Slumping against his chest you allowed yourself to relax a bit, some tension brought out simply by the act of telling someone about the frustrations that were building up, like someone shaking a corked bottle. Childe kissed your hands, a welcome distraction, before giving you a peck on the nose. You smiled at that, squeezing his hands. It felt good to have someone to complain to, to have someone who understood. But that was Childe, surprisingly understanding. And always looking for a fight.

“So…” as if on cue Childe spoke up, tone becoming truer, his smile becoming more foxlike. “You have something you need help fighting I hear.”

“Don’t let this get you any ideas.” You smirked right back. “I can still whip you when it comes to sparring at you know it. Besides, won’t I get in trouble if you’re there.”

“Give me half the commission rate and we’ll call it square.”

“Such a steep rate!” You gasped in fake horror, nevertheless lifting yourself off the chair. Childe was up no sooner, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Well of course! I can’t have you fleecing me out of my money. Not when I’ve already given you my heart, which is quite expensive by the way.” Giving you a quick forehead kiss he took your hand then, giving some half assed excuse to the poor desk clerk when they asked where he was going. “I have to save someone some trouble.”

You scoffed at that, but it was true. Childe was saving you a lot of trouble, and keeping your pride in some sort of piece. That was Childe. Wild, passionate, aching for a fight, perhaps not a great person – no in fact decidedly not so. But he was also surprisingly caring, reliable, and steadfast. And that was all you could ask for in the moment.

Diluc

“Do you know where in Monstadt someone is supposed to find 50 Windwheel Asters?”

Diluc whipped his head up at that one; out of all the things he expected you to say that was certainly not one of them. It was almost closing time at the Winery, and this was normally the time when you came up to see him, chatting about this and that, waiting for him to close the ledger so you two could have some time together. In the entire history of your relationship there’d never been an evening that began such as this.

“There should be some around here, and Windrise if you’re in for a bit of a hike. But 50 is an awful lot, and I’m not sure the florists would be happy if you carted off with all their flowers.”

“I know.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, picking at your fingernails. “I know that finding 50 of anything in a day is a hard task. But I was given a short noticed commission by some wealthy tradesman who’s passing by and wanted some flowers for a gala or some such thing. It’s important for the Guild that I complete these you know, and I’m not looking forward to telling Katheryne about it tomorrow.”

You sighed, glancing out the window of the Winery. You thought of all the places in Monstadt the view was perhaps loveliest here, cozy, with a view of all that made Monstadt, the planes, the forest, even a glimpse of the waterways that ran through it. But right now all you could think about was how in such a vast swath of land you’d still failed to meet the goal, you’d still turned up empty handed.

“Would you sit next to me?” Diluc’s voice broke you out of your depressing reverie and you sat down in the chair adjacent to his – a recent addition to his office – laying your head somewhat awkwardly on his shoulder, running your hands through his soft hair. You two sat in silence like that for a bit, the steady flow of Diluc’s pen keeping your eyes occupied while your hands braided and twisted at random, gentle and absentminded.

Finally the ledger was closed and Diluc turned to you. Smiling he massaged your left shoulder slightly, eliciting a sigh from you.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things like this.” He began, his tone soft and low. “No reasonable person on Earth would ask you to gather so many flowers in a day. Even Flora doesn’t sell that many to a single customer without an order, and her whole job consists of selling flora. You’ve watched me work long enough, do you think I’d sell 50 kegs of wine to a tradesman on site?”

“No, of course not.” You mumbled. “But it’s my job to do the unconventional requests, how can I pick and choose at random? I can’t very well complete only half of my commissions.”

“Of course not, but nobody expects you to simultaneously catch 50 flowers out of thin air either. The Guild has its own regulations and rules you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a violation of one. No one doubts your prowess my dear. You’ve slain Eyes of Storms and have scaled mountains taller than most people in Monstadt might ever imagine. You done what might be considered impossible to some many times. So you should trust in the Guild and in the people of Monstadt. They aren’t well likely to turn their back on you over such a ridiculous request.”

You hummed a reply, resting your hands on Diluc’s. All he said was probably right of course, Katheryne could very well tell you how ridiculous such a request was, and no harm would come to your reputation. But your relationship with Diluc was still young, there was still so much to learn about the other, and so hearing such confident praise from him felt like a sort of gift, recompense for such a frustrating ordeal. Humming once more you leaned your head on his shoulder again. Tomorrow you would go and tell the Guild about the debacle, and let the man know the ridiculousness of his request. But tonight you just wanted to rest with the person you cherished the most. That was all you wished for.

Xiao

“Something’s wrong.” Xiao’s voice was purposefully flat, and you wondered not for the first time how the adeptus in front of you had become so good at reading your mood, especially considering the fact that he admitted himself that his grasp on human emotions was a tricky one. He always seemed to know when you were upset at least, and your initial urge to attempt to hide your frustration immediately blew away.

“It’s been a rough day.” You admitted, standing next to him on the Wangshu Inn’s railing, letting the cool evening breeze cool you down. It’d been an obnoxiously hot day, and you were glad for any bit of fresh air. Xiao said nothing, but you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for your decision as to whether or not you’d let him know the reason you were upset. Not that it was really a question, at this point you couldn’t imagine a time when you didn’t tell Xiao practically everything, from the most mundane to those things that loomed largest in your life. You’d never met someone you trusted so much in your life before, and it felt rather freeing, knowing that he didn’t mind a bit, something that had scared you when you first began opening up to him.

“It’s just a commission, nothing ground shaking. Thankfully.” You added on, thinking of when Liyue had almost been swallowed whole; the moment when it seemed all would fail, before the miraculous traveler had bound the adept and the citizens of Liyue together. It was something you weren’t likely to forget, and something you never wished to relive. “That being said.” You added on. “It’s something that, well, is distressing me a lot.”

Xiao stood patiently as you explained to him that your deceptively simple commission of delivering food to someone had managed to go horribly awry after a group of Cryo slimes had left the food frozen solid, with the angry customer unwilling to pay or wait for a replacement.

“It wasn’t too expensive thankfully.” You remarked. “I mean it was just food. But it feels silly, and a bit embarrassing. I mean of course I should’ve paid, I don’t begrudge that. I just don’t understand how I managed to screw up something so fundamentally simple. It seems… somehow a bit of a slap in the fact. I mean, aren’t I any good?”

“Of course you are.” Xiao’s answer was firm, but not unkind. Instead it held in it the certainty of one who’d lived thousands of years, and whose trust in you was absolute. Drawing closer, the adeptus glanced around, making sure there was no one around, before slinging an arm around your own, drawing you close and running soft circles around your shoulder.

“You’re a great adventurer.” He remarked, voice filled with as much serious as there was fondness. “I’ve seen many warriors, many adventurers come and go in my time. Those whose feats will fill the pages of books and the staves of songs long after they themselves have been reduced to ashes. Those who will be called great heroes. All of them fell sometimes. And, if you must fall, I’d rather it be over something so simple as a botched food delivery.”

You glanced up into Xiao’s eyes. Normally he was reticent with words, even moreso with gestures. Every word let you deeper into someone’s life, into their past, their personality, their soul. No word was careless with Xiao. And as you stared at eyes filled with pride and love and worry, suddenly you felt as if what had just passed was small, oh so very small. There would be another commission, just as there would be another tomorrow. There’d be another failure most likely too. Many of them even. But they were small stones in a great big pond, quickly sinking out of sight and out of mind.

“I love you.” You breathed, and Xiao’s face seemed to open all of a sudden, shedding a thousand cares and a thousand worries. He pressed his forehead to your own.

“I love you too.”

#I'm so so so tired #sorry for not writing for so long #and having no good schedule of works of fandoms #I'm sorry #genshin impact #childe #diluc #xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #scenarios #my writing

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simprisottowriter · 4 years

Note

Hey! Would you mind doing some fluffy hcs similar to the previous ones with Giorno or Bucciarati?

You got it, anon! Such a great choice for headcanons. Bruno & Giorno are just so lovable and elegant! I've been considering writing about Giorno today, and the timing of this request was just perfect! I'd be delighted to write fluff not only about Giorno, but for Bruno too! Hope you like them! ♡

°Fluff Headcanons°

◇ Being a Capo for many, many years has made Giorno even more busy than before, so whenever he isn't around or he's stuck all day working in his office, he leaves Gold Experience by your side. A stand full of personality and charm. Just like Giorno, Gold Experience loves showering you with gifts! Such as flowers and small cute animals. In this way, Giorno is content and happy that he is hanging out with you, even if his schedule doesn't allow him. Similar to Giorno, Gold Experience is very reserved and difficult to read. Though, you can see the excitement in the stand's eyes when you read a book together or watch a series, especially ones about nature or biology. By using his ability, he would let you see up close some of the most rarest (and harmless) fauna and flora.

◇ When he is staying home all day, he likes letting his hair down. But he is not fond of leaving his luxurious long hair this messy, while he is in someone else's presence. It’s different when he is in the privacy of his home. Outside, he wants to maintain an image. If you have seen him without his complicated hairstyle, that means the trust he has in you is unmatched! He'd definitely let you brush and braid his hair, while he is working or resting by your side. ♡

◇ He's the definition of a morning person. The moment you wake up, the sun hasn’t risen yet. But he has already prepared everything. His morning routine, his outfit, his hairstyle. He has even cleaned a bit around the house and made breakfast. All done in such a short amount of time. When you walk in, you see him finishing his paperwork on the table. As he notices you, he smiles and hands you your coffee. Even if his speech is so calm and quiet, he's so full of life and positivity at such an early hour. There's no way your day can go wrong after waking up to this! ♡

◇ And if you wake up a little bit later than usual, you might miss him, as he usually has already reached his office at that time. Though, a beautiful and vibrant bouquet rests on-top of the table, still staying fresh in its vase, hours after he left. A sweet handwritten card and some breakfast made for you rest near the vase. It's his way of showing how much he cares.

◇ Has a fragrant floral scent, that really reminds you of lavender, mixed with the delicate aroma of some of the finest perfumes. All his clothes delicately emanate this fragrance.

◇ Follows his morning routine religiously. Sometimes, you like waking up so much earlier than usual, around the time Giorno gets ready. As he stands in front of the mirror, you sit by his side, observing every gentle movement of his, sharing a few soft glances. The aroma of hair products fills the room, as with small and calculated movements he sets his hairstyle in place. He’s a bit confused, but finds it sweet how you look with such interest at every bobby pin and hair spray he uses. The moment he applies his hand cream, which has such a familiar scent, you know he has finished his morning routine. He smiles and looks your way again, treasuring the time you’ve spent with him.

◇ Master of time management. You're amazed on how he manages doing so much in a short amount of time! He fits his work, his hobbies and the time he spends with his close ones all in just one day, so effortlessly. Plus, he ends up having some free time too. It's surprising that, at the end of the day, he's not even tired!

◇ And that free time he finds, he'd much rather spend it with someone he's close to, rather than be alone. A walk in a beautiful floral garden or a hangout at a coffee shop sound nice, don't they? These would be the ideal pastimes for Giorno. For the garden hangout, Giorno would love answering your every question about the flowers and plants that surround you. He might be very knowledgeable about them, but he made sure to run through his notes beforehand. Just to impress you! And for the coffee shop one, he would definitely choose something sweet, like pudding. But he would let you order anything! Paying for anything expensive doesn't bother him. Because he values your company undoubtedly much more than money. He just wants to have a little bit more free time to spend by your side.

◇ Adores giving compliments and words of affirmation to the ones he loves. He wants the best for the ones he trusts, and will try everything to help them succeed, no matter if it is a personal or a noble goal.

◇ Keeps his workplace and office very clean! Giorno is generally a tidy person and has everything categorized. But his presence is so obvious from the decoration! A variety of plants and flowers, emerging from intricate vases, cover a great part of the room, while small animals, such as frogs, turtles and fishes, stay in their own terrariums. He owns a great amount of pets, which he cares for daily. Has done incredible amounts of research for each animal, so that he could provide perfectly to their needs.

◇ Has some of the softest and romantic pieces of blues and classical music in a variety of vinyl discs. Would love slow dancing to these with someone special, but till that moment, he just plays them whenever he’s feeling down.

◇ Fast, cramped and calligraphic handwriting. Favors fountain pens more than normal ones. Has one of the most beautiful signatures you’ve ever seen. His scribbles and doodles are mostly stars, wiggly lines, flowers and plant-like shapes.

◇ Loves capturing each special moment with his close ones, in small delicate photos. Keeps some of them in detailed metal photo frames on his desk. Their color has been faded over time. Owns numerous photo albums filled with memories of the past, and would love to have someone by his side, to help him make even more happy memories together.

◇ Might come off as very confident and bold, but in reality, he is not very accustomed to showing or receiving affection. His past wasn't kind and the love he never received his whole life makes it impossible for him to not freeze when someone shows him even a bit of appreciation. Just holding hands or a simple hug could leave him surprised.

◇ No matter how he is feeling, his first priority is making sure you are happy. He could be returning from a heart-breaking mission, or a task that failed so terribly, but the moment he is outside the door, he'll try his best to recollect himself and put on the brightest smile for you, as he walks in.

◇ But once you're used to his presence, you'll slowly realize how he is truly feeling. No fake smile can hide Bruno’s pain. He might continue not being honest about his feelings, even after you confront him. His voice would tremble, as he tries to keep his composure, and the slight whimpering in his tone would tell a story he himself refuses to. But with a hug or a soft touch on the shoulder, he’d immediately break the act. He appreciates with all his heart how supportive and understanding you are, but he doesn’t want to worry you with his work issues.

◇ Throughout the day you spend with him at home, you can feel his soft and gentle glances. He sometimes looks at you with awe. He believes in you and supports you with such kindness and selflessness. Just his smile could diminish any negativity and solve your every problem. For just some seconds, everything once again would be okay ♡

◇ Has a familiar and delicate aroma of coffee brewing in the morning, paired with a soft scent of vanilla. Bruno feels more humane than anyone else you've met. Warmth that reminds you of home. Whenever you are near him, your mind drifts off to some of the earliest, gentlest and familiar scents of your childhood. You feel safe again.

◇ An absolute sweetheart when it comes to animals. Doesn’t own any, but his heart shatters when he sees the malnourished stray animals in his neighborhood. He makes sure to take care of them, by feeding them and giving them shelter, since no one else does. He’s not as knowledgable as Giorno, but he is incredibly good at recognizing their body language. They feel so comfortable in his presence. Bruno would always go out of his way to make sure that no one is in danger, and this also includes animals. One rainy night, he returned home rain-soaked, with a warm and soft smile on his face. Holding a kitty, that was soaked and trembling from the cold, he explained that he found it alone out in the terrible weather and couldn’t bear to leave it on its own. You wouldn’t have expected anything different from Bruno. You love his caring nature!

◇ Equally good with dealing with others. He’s a people’s person. Very high emotional intelligence. Immediately recognizes how they truly feel, and reads them like they are an open book. No facades work on Bruno. He could notice and point out even a small change in their behavior or something that is bothering them. After spending a good amount of time with someone, he could fully understand the reasoning behind their actions, attitude or even have a vague idea of what their past was. He’s very attentive to small details that usually would go unnoticed by others. Details that reveal much, much more than the person wants to.

◇ Simply adores jazz! Smooth, calming but extremely elegant. Just like Bruno, thus making jazz his ideal music genre. His love for Miles Davis’s music is obvious. Owns a couple but good vinyls of his, an antique turntable, and all that jazz.

◇ Keeps items he treasures in the upper zippers of his outfit, close to his heart. Or generally uses his zippers for any item he might need at the moment. You could hear a ringing sound and suddenly he'd unzip his arm, pulling out a phone. Answering it casually like nothing happened.

◇ He might not have a lot of free time, but would definitely use it to spend some quality time with the ones he cares about. A night spent cooking at home or out at a fancy restaurant with his loved one is a night well-spent for Bruno. Even if he doesn’t have a lot of money, he would definitely spend more than usual for a night out with you.

◇ Not a morning person, but neither a night owl. Could be a strong mix of both. After Giorno, he usually is one of the first to wake up. Though, he limits his personal morning routine, so that he can devote his time to clean around the house and cook for everyone. Spends much more hours, compared to Giorno, on caring for the house and for the ones he loves, since his schedule is usually more flexible. But he is the last to nod off. He wants to make sure everyone is safe and well-rested. Plus, his paperwork is almost never ending, so he usually stays up late finishing it.

◇ The best to have around when you have troubles with your insomnia. Will make sure to plan ahead and prepare some chamomile tea for you. And if that doesn’t work, he would hold you in his warm embrace or play with your hair till you doze off ♡

◇ Delicate, neat and legible handwriting. Not necessarily cursive. Medium sized letters, full of character. His signature is his full name, written with such elegance. When he is not working on important paperwork, he mostly doodles shapes, such as squares and triangles, dotted patterns and criss-cross lines.

◇ Like every other person that has high emotional intelligence, Bruno has learned to forgive and forget. Has never held a grudge, no matter how painful his past was, and turns his sadness into love for others. He wants no one to live through as much pain as he did, and goes out of his way to ensure that. Giving praise, helping others and being genuine. Main characteristics of Bruno’s behavior that show his empathy. For Bruno, lack of hatred doesn’t show naivety. It shows maturity.

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stepboldlyjess · 3 years

Text

You may have seen an earlier post with the cover art and description for a new book called “When Will This Be Over?” and this is the first chapter! If you want me to, I will continue to post the chapters here, but the story is available on my wattpad. Let me know what you think of this. I am very excited to keep writing!

When Will This Be Over?

Chapter One

The sound of knocking coming from her bedroom door pulled Morrigan out of her book. She had been in a field, the sound of birdsong filling the air and clouds rolling peacefully through the sky.

As she closed the book she called, “Come in!” to whoever was on the other side of the door. When she heard it click open, she looked up to see bright yellow pants paired with a white dress shirt and turquoise shoes. She looked up at the ginger haired man with a large grin on her face before running over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re home!”

Jupiter chuckled and squeezed her tightly.

“Oh, I missed you,” Morrigan said into his chest.

“Each time I’ve gone away from home over the past five years, your reaction has never changed. You’re sixteen now, Mog! Most sixteen-year-olds are begging for their fathers to leave them alone.”

Morrigan pulled back and looked up at his face. His eyes held a glint of mischief. “No one has a dad like mine.”

Jupiter smoothed the crinkles from his pants with a rather smug grin. “I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Morrigan lightly punched his arm, earning a look of mock shock from him. “Don’t get cocky, buddy.”

Jupiter laughed before walking over to her bed and sitting at the foot of it. “So, how’s school? Almost done your junior years!”

Morrigan moved to where Jupiter was and sat down next to him. “Yeah, school is great. Just a lot of work.” She rubbed her hands over her face as she remembered what classes still needed assignments to be handed in.

“I didn’t much like the workload either, but it’s all worth it in the end, is it not?” asked Jupiter.

“I guess so.” Was it worth it, though? Morrigan was constantly being harassed over her knack so she wasn’t even sure if completing her Wunsoc training as a Wundersmith was worth the effort. If she was going to graduate with nothing to do then what was the point? However she didn’t let Jupiter know she was feeling this way and plastered a fake smile across her lips.

“Exactly.”

Morrigan rested her head on her patron’s shoulder. “Hey, Jupiter?”

“Yes, Mog?”

Morrigan looked up at him with a small smile. “Did you bring me anything from wherever you were?”

“Of course I did! It’s in my study, but we have to wait for Jack to come home before you can open it.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I’m always waiting for someone to come home before I can do anything! Whether it’s you or Jack, I wait and wait and wait!”

Jupiter stared at her for a moment before sighing. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Morrigan giggled and jumped up before walking out of her room and leaving Jupiter to follow her. The closer she got to the study, the faster she walked. Jupiter was constantly telling her to slow down, complaining his body was not what it used to be, but Morrigan wasn’t listening.

She was always excited to receive the presents that came from Jupiter’s trips. The bottom drawer of her dresser was filled with these gifts. Whether they be clothes, or books, or little souvenirs from gift shops, the drawer held them all.

The items always held some importance to the country Jupiter had travelled to. His suitcase once held a replica of the crown that belonged to the queen of the country. That one isn’t in Morrigan’s drawer. Alternatively, she placed it on the head of her skeleton coat rack.

When Morrigan made it to the study she waited for Jupiter to catch up to her and unlock the door. She tried to stay patient but it was impossible; she was too excited for the new present. Instead, she stood rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Quit that,” said Jupiter as he walked up to her. “That’s what I do. That’s my thing. Get your own thing.”

Morrigan playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Just hurry up!”

Jupiter grabbed keys from out of his pocket and stuck them into the door. He turned them towards the left and pushed the door open.

Morrigan slipped under his arm and sat at the couch she had claimed as hers. It was placed perfectly in front of the fire place. She would get enough warmth while staying perfectly comfortable. On multiple occasions she had fallen asleep in this couch after reading while Jupiter worked.

“You ready, Mog?” asked Jupiter.

Morrigan looked over her shoulder to find Jupiter with his back toward her. “Yup!”

“Okay. Close your eyes and put your hands out.”

She did just as she was told, and after she heard Jupiter’s footsteps coming nearer to her, she felt a weight in her hands. Morrigan kept her eyes closed and squeezed the gift. The wrapping paper crinkled under her fingers which gave her some idea as to what was inside.

“You can look now.”

When she opened her eyes she was met with a somewhat rectangular-shaped package wrapped in brown wrapping paper that featured some gold glitter accents. Morrigan wondered why on Earth people spent so much money on gift wrap if it was only going to end up in the bin.

She flipped the present over and saw a sticker that read “To: Mog. Lots of love, from: Jupiter.”

Morrigan found a taped edge and tore at it. She continued to rip the paper apart until a pile of fabric fell out. She picked it up and fumbled with it until she could spread it out and see it for what it was: a dress. It was black but shone with gold glitter in the light.

She placed it on the couch and ran up to Jupiter to hug him for a second time that day. “I love it. Thank you!”

Jupiter kissed the top of her head before replying. “I’m glad you like it. That dress is extremely special.”

Morrigan sat back down in the couch and waited to hear the story about this certain present. This was always her favourite bit of Jupiter’s return. It was a couple of minutes alone with him. Whether it be with him and Jack, or just himself, it was something she took pleasure in. She enjoyed learning about where the new item came from and the significance it held.

Jupiter took a seat in the couch next to Morrigan and got comfortable. He then began his story.

“Years and years and years ago, there was a Wundersmith.” He paused and watched as Morrigan’s smile grew wider and she sat up straighter. Presents that had something to do with Wundersmiths made Morrigan feel special, like Jupiter had personalised this gift for her.

“Go on...” urged Morrigan.

“No one knew her name, but everyone knew she had a talent for clothes making. She would use Wunder and work it in fascinating ways to make something new. Her most famous works were made for the young children who lived in poverty around her. She would make sweaters and cosy pants and beanies for the winter, as well as cooler clothing for the summer.”

Morrigan was in awe of this woman. Maybe finishing at Wunsoc would be worth it. Maybe once she left, she would be able to do great things like this lady had. Maybe she would be able to make people happy.

“Nobody knew the reason of her death. No one had heard from her for a while, and it was then announced that she had died. A couple of months later, news broke out that there was one more dress that had not been sold or given out. It was found inside her old home and placed in her country’s Wundrous Arts Museum—“

“Hold on. Wundrous Arts Museum?” Morrigan was shocked. Was there a museum in Nevermoor that was dedicated to Wundersmiths? How did she not know about this?

“Sorry, Mog. There isn’t one in Nevermoor,” said Jupiter solemnly. “There used to be but they took it down after the Courage Square Massacre. People thought if you stepped foot in there you would get attacked by a Wundersmith. I would’ve loved to take you there, but unfortunately I cannot. You can thank your friend Squall for that one.”

Once again, Squall had ruined something for Morrigan.

“Okay, so the dress was put into the Wundrous Arts Museum,” prompted Morrigan.

“Yes. Correct,” nodded Jupiter. “It has stayed there since it’s discovery. Well, until now,” he said gesturing to the dress Morrigan held in her hands.

“This is it?”

“Yes.”

“The dress?”

“The one and only.”

“It’s not a replica?”

“Nope.”

“How did you get it?”

“I know people.”

“Jupiter, thank you so much!”

Morrigan sprung up from her couch and jumped onto his, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Jupiter chuckled, “Mog, you’re gonna have to stop doing that. I’m getting old.”

“Right. Sorry.” Morrigan hastily moved off him and back to the dress. “How do you know it’ll fit?”

“That’s simple. It’s Wunder. You’re a Wundersmith. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Morrigan chuckled before realising something else. “Is Jack’s present as good as mine?”

“Oh goodness no,” laughed Jupiter. “I’m kind of glad you wanted to open them at separate times. I can’t imagine how he would have reacted if he saw the two gifts in comparison.”

“What did you get him?”

“A book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing special about it? Just a book?”

“Unfortunately it’s just a book.”

Morrigan’s lips curled at the edges but she tried to hide her smirk.

“What?” It seemed as though Jupiter saw her struggling.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Mog. You’re doing your weird smile-smirk-face. What is it?”

“It’s just that I sense some favouritism, that’s all.”

Now it was Jupiter’s turn to roll his eyes. “There is no favouritism, Mog. It’s just that there was an opportunity to get you an amazing present, yet I was not able to live up to that standard for Jack. That’s all.”

Morrigan nodded sarcastically. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“Well, it is the truth, so I will.” Jupiter stuck his nose in the air with what he must have thought was authority. “Now, go put that in your room and wash up for dinner. I’m hungry.”

“Yes, Jupiter,” said Morrigan playfully.

“And I don’t want to hear anymore about this favouritism nonsense.”

“Oh, no, definitely not.” Morrigan shook her head as though to prove a point but as she left the room, she called out “I’m your favourite!” before sprinting all the way to Room 85.

While she was running through the halls of the Deucalion, the dress in her hand, Morrigan let the smile take over her face. She was glad she had found happiness after all those years, but there was one question nagging at the back of her mind that she had tried to forget about for the past five years:

When will this be over?

#nevermoor #wundersmith #hollowpox #nevermoor fan fiction #morrigan crow #jupiter north #jupidad #when will this be over?

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unforth · 3 years

Text

May Trope Mayhem Fill Day 1: Friends to Lovers

Fandom: Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official’s Blessing

Ship: Xie Lian/Hua Cheng

Rating: Gen

Tags: modern au, tooth-rotting fluff, 520 day, florist Xie Lian

Word count: 2,492

Cross-posted to AO3

@duckprintspress

The bell over the door rang and Xie Lian turned from the bouquet he was arranging, forcing his expression into a tired smile as he prepared to greet yet another customer. 520 was an auspicious day for love, and a great day for Xie Lian’s shop, but it was exhausting. His smile widened and became more genuine, though, when he saw his customer: Hua Cheng, one of the few regulars that Xie Lian knew well enough to consider a friend.

Not that they’d ever met any place outside of “Buds to Blooms.”

Not that they’d ever spent much time together.

Not that they talked about anything other than flowers, at least not most of the time.

Not that they had really any relationship at all, no matter how much Xie Lian might want one.

Hua Cheng looked especially dapper for the holiday, tall, slim form clothed in black slacks, a red button up shirt, and a black suit jacket. Silver jewelry adorned his neck, an intricate filigree in the shape of butterfly nestled between the open buttons of the top of his shirt. His fingers were beringed, one looped with a red string that seemed oddly familiar, and sparkling chains were threaded through his long hair. Tiny chimes sounded every time he moved his head. As if his attire wasn’t enough to demonstrate that he had a date for the evening, his eye patch, usually plain, today was decorated with a red felt heart that Xie Lian suspected had been sewn on by hand.

He was gorgeous.

(read more!)

Something unpleasantly like jealousy curdled in Xie Lian’s stomach. If only he were the one that Hua Cheng got dressed up for...if only he were the one Hua Cheng wanted...if only--

“Xie Lian?” Hua Cheng asked.

Blinking, Xie Lian flushed. He’d been staring, a white rose stem still clutched in one hand, his trimmers in the other. With a shake of his head, he shoved the blossom into the arrangement he’d been working on, set the clippers down, and wiped his hands on his apron as he stepped out from behind the counter.

“Good evening, Hua Cheng,” he said brightly. Being jealous of the man, woman, or genderqueer individual privileged to spend the evening with Hua Cheng was absurd. “You’ve got perfect timing, I was just about to close up for the night.” Xie Lian was under no delusions of what his actual relationship with Hua Cheng was - customer and businessman, with a splash of friendship. “Indeed...I’d probably be closed already, except I wanted to get a head start on tomorrow.”

“I know,” said Hua Cheng with a toothy grin. “I got tired of waiting.” Confused, Xie Lian tilted his head to one side. Stopping in the middle of the open store floor, Hua Cheng turned a slow circle, eye searching the decimated shelves and coolers. “Wow, you musta been busy.” Xie Lian usually prided himself on the profusion and variety of flowers he kept in stock, but closing time on the busiest day of the year saw him nearly cleaned out.

“I’m exhausted,” Xie Lian confessed. With any normal customer, he’d never have admitted it - always have to be bright and perky and indefatigable for the clientele! - but Hua Cheng wasn’t a normal customer. “But 520 day alone pays my rent for most of the year, so it’s worth it.”

“I’m sure it is,” Hua Cheng murmured. “And I’m sure you need a break, so…” A decisive nod set of a cascade of beautiful music as Hua Cheng strode to one of the coolers and pulled it open. A few bedraggled bouquets and a single bucket full of stalks of cape jasmine were all that remained within. Every year, Xie Lian stocked up on the cape jasmine, tiny white blossoms nestled in profusion amidst evergreen leaves, and every year hardly anyone bought any. Xie Lian didn’t care. They were his favorite flower, and a small indulgence, and when no one bought them, he got to take them home and put them on his dining room table and imagine impossible things while he ate dinner for one on the most romantic night of the year.

Except apparently not this year, because Hua Cheng ignored the arrangements and grabbed the entire plastic vase of jasmine.

“How much for all of these?” Hua Cheng asked, hefting the container and letting the cooler door slide shut behind him.

Could he be any more perfect?

“Oh...uh…” Catching his lip between his teeth, Xie Lian looked at the flowers, looked at Hua Cheng, looked at the darkness outside his shop window, and sighed. “...just take them. You’re a loyal customer, and it’s not like I was going to sell them to anyone else tonight. They’ll be past selling by tomorrow, so…”

“No,” replied Hua Cheng firmly. Xie Lian frowned, confusion intensifying. “Name a price.”

“But--”

“Look. There’s this person. I’ve tried everything I can think of to let them know how I feel, and nothing has worked. And I have a suspicion or three about why they won’t listen, so tonight is the night. They’re worth it, and I need them to know they’re worth it, and so I’m paying, and then I’m taking these flowers to them, and then - unless I’m devastatingly wrong about their opinion of me - we’re spending the evening together, and I’m getting them dinner, and maybe giving them a foot massage. So. Tell me how much I owe you, Xie Lian.”

No, seriously - could he be any more perfect?

Yes, he could...if I was the person he was doing all those nice things for.

Xie Lian heaved a sigh. “250 yuan,” he said. Hua Cheng lifted a suspicious eyebrow. Yeah, Xie Lian might have low-balled that number a little...a lot… “...okay, more like 400.”

“Perfect,” Hua Cheng announced. Setting the container down at his feet, he reached into a pocket, withdrew a billfold, and deliberately counted out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 100 renminbi bills.

“Hua Ch--”

“Zip it,” Hua Cheng said, setting the money down on the counter just behind Xie Lian. Because Xie Lian was still just standing there. With his hands at his sides. Staring. And feeling sorry for himself. “I’m taking the container too.”

“That still doesn’t cost--”

Oh, but he was so tired.

“This person is worth it.”

Xie Lian struggled to keep his exhale from leaving as a forlorn sigh; it whispered from him, leaving his shoulders slumped, his mind fogged, and his chest hollow. “Alright. Have a nice night, Hua Cheng.”

“I will.” There was an inexplicable intensity to Hua Cheng’s voice, but Xie Lian didn’t want to try to understand. What he already knew hurt enough, and he knew he was being absurd. Dwelling on it would only intensify his sadness. Hua Cheng lifted the bucket of jasmine again, hugged it close with apparent indifference to the damage it might do to his expensive suit, and walked to the door. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Xie Lian, his voice empty, his heart empty, his store empty, his life...he shook his head and followed Hua Cheng to the door. Given Hua Cheng’s burdens, Xie Lian hustled and stepped before him, opening the door so he could leave without even more difficulty. “Thanks as always for your business.”

“My business…” Hua Cheng echoed. “Is that what this is?”

Xie Lian had no idea what Hua Cheng meant.

Xie Lian refused to think about what Hua Cheng meant, as Hua Cheng stepped out of the store, and Xie Lian closed and locked the door behind him, and Xie Lian turned and stared at his barren shelves, cast in deep shadow in the low evening light.

Tomorrow, he’d be up bright and early to receive his shipments, make the day’s deliveries, run the business, do all the work of owning a florist shop himself.

Tomorrow, he’d be collected, and calm, and professional.

Today…

A single teardrop made a wet, cool line down his cheek.

...today, he was being ridiculous.

Shaking off his melancholy, Xie Lian set about shutting down. There were cases to refill, vases to wash, coolers to clean. There was work to do, so much work to do, and he lost himself in the rhythm of it, in the simple joy it brought him. Minutes passed, the evening stretching later. Outside, he could hear as celebrators walked by. There was so much joy and jollity in their voices, and brought him a sense of pride to reflect and think - he helped make the day better for many people. His flowers brought happiness to dozens, hundreds, of people.

It was enough.

His flowers brought happiness to Hua Cheng.

It was almost enough.

It was--

A knock-knock-knock startled Xie Lian as he carefully swept bits of leaf and petal into his palm after wiping the cooler interior. Tumbling to his bottom, scattering flower bits over his lap, he sat there blinking. It was probably just some doomed boyfriend or husband realizing they’d forgotten to buy their love a gift. It was probably...but he glanced toward the exterior door, and there was no one there.

Knock, knock, knock.

Uncertain, Xie Lian rose and walked toward the back of the store. The knocking grew louder the closer he drew to the receiving door, and finally, baffled, Xie Lian went to it and peered through the peekhole.

Hua Cheng stood outside, smile suave, arms embracing the container of cape jasmine branches.

Xie Lian hesitantly unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Apologies, was there something wrong with…?”

“Oh, never,” replied Hua Cheng brightly. “I just got tired of waiting. Again.”

“I don’t…um...?”

“I told you, I have someone very important I want to see tonight, and they deserve to know how much I value them.”

Hearing it again stung. Did Hua Cheng really have to rub in how special this person was to him? What did any of it have to do with Xie Lian? Why was Hua Cheng here, instead of with them? None of it made any sense, and Xie Lian didn’t want to think about it, except how could he not think, and wonder, and mourn, with Hua Cheng standing in front of him once more?

“I’m sorry...I don’t…”

Hua Cheng rolled his eye. “Unfortunately, he’s not always the most observant individual, but I forgive him for that. To tell you the truth,” Hua Cheng whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially, “I’d forgive him anything.”

Wait.

Was Hua Cheng implying…

Don’t think about it.

“Huh?” asked Xie Lian.

...but it almost sounds like...

With a hearty, gorgeous laugh that set flower bucket water sloshing to the ground, Hua Cheng threw his head back. “They’re for you, Xie Lian,” he managed between gales. “They’re your favorite, right?”

Oh.

Oh...oh, wow.

No...it couldn’t be.

“Huh?!”

Setting the container of flowers down beside the door, Hua Cheng withdrew one stalk, length heavily bowed with tiny white blossoms, and held it out for Xie Lian to take. Too tired, too bemused, too drunk on nascent hope to decline, Xie Lian took it.

“I couldn’t exactly ask you out while you were on the clock,” Hua Cheng explained. “For a long time, I thought I’d been so clear about my interest, and that surely you’d pick up on it and, if you were interested, respond in kind. But even though you flirted back, you never, ever did, and I started to wonder...I was pretty depressed about it for a while there…”

“...you stopped coming for a few months…” murmured Xie Lian.

“Yup, exactly - then. But I couldn’t stay away, and when I returned you were so happy to see me, and I couldn’t believe I’d misread your mutual interest so completely. And then it occurred to me...what if it wasn’t your interest I’d misread, but...you?”

“Me?”

“You’re so quiet.” Hua Cheng’s voice was fond, his expression gentle, and he reached out with a hand to cup Xie Lian’s chin. “You’re so kind.” The red string tied around Hua Cheng’s finger brushed Xie Lian’s cheek. “You’re so self-effacing.” The feel of it was familiar, and Xie Lian finally recognized it - it was one of his strings, from the store, the ones he used to tie bouquets. “You would never presume that I’d be more interested in you than in the flowers you sold.” Hua Cheng was wearing it like jewelry. “Not that I don’t love flowers - I do, truly.” That was so… “Almost as much as I love you.”

...so…

...wait, what?

“Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian breathed, heart in his throat, tears in his eyes.

“Will you go out with me tonight, A-Lian?” asked Hua Cheng, deep and rich and gloriously sincere.

Xie Lian opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it, blinked away tears, and then smiled. “I guess it depends,” he said with a grin.

It was gratifying to see Hua Cheng look a fraction as confused as Xie Lian had felt most of the evening. “On what?”

“...did you mean what you said earlier?”

“Every word.”

“Even the part about the foot massage?”

“Especially the part about the foot massage!” said Hua Cheng. “When was the last time you sat down?”

“I don’t even remember,” Xie Lian admitted. “It’s been a long day.”

“I know, A-Lian.” Sliding a hand down Xie Lian’s neck, along his shoulder, and down his arm, Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s hand in his own, clasped both their fingers around the jasmine stem, raised it to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss. Jasmine petals rained down between them like spring rain. “So I hope you’ll forgive me for making it even longer.”

“Oh, Hua Cheng…” Joy bursting through his heart, Xie Lian allowed Hua Cheng to gently tug him out the back and pull the door closed behind them. “...A-Cheng…” The soothing scent of jasmine flowers filled the alley. “I’d forgive you anything.”

“Anything, anything?”

“Anything, anything,” Xie Lian confirmed. “Though--”

“Knew there’d be a catch.”

“--I’d appreciate if I could go home and change before dinner?”

“...that’s fair. Should I wait for you here?” asked Hua Cheng with a gesture to the narrow, dirty alley.

“Why don’t you walk me back?” Xie Lian suggested.

“Not nervous about inviting a strange man back to your place?” Hua Cheng teased.

“I think only a strange man would want to come back to my place…”

“As I suspected - you sell yourself far too short.”

“Then aren’t I lucky to have you to tell me your worth?”

I do have you, right? You really think…

“You are,” Hua Cheng replied, unhesitating and firm. “And I will.”

...you really do.

“Wow.”

I was right.

“You’re worth everything to me, A-Lian.”

He really is so perfect...

“And you, to me.”

...we’re really perfect.

And, hand-in-hand, in a cloud of cape jasmine blossoms and a choir of chimes, they walked toward Xie Lian’s apartment.

Together.

#may trope mayhem #unforth writes #tgcf #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf fanfiction #what me know how to tag things #never

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jesussavedevenme · 3 years

Text

To Be A Knight

This is the beginning of a collection of one shots following Seth's adventures as a Knight of the Dawn

Description: Like most young boys Seth had always dreamed of being a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a walky-talky while humming the Mission Impossible theme song. And while he technically still wasn't a spy,he was pretty darn close.

May 20

St.Matthew's Island, Alaska

6:25 pm

"Sorenson, I've got a job for you." came a gruff voice from down the hall. Seth turned and saw his handler, a man by the name of Flynn Hotching, leaning out of the door to his office. Flynn was a tall and strong man with a broad frame. At fifty five he was in excellent shape and the only indications to his age were the flecks of white that were sprinkled throughout his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard. Flynn was a serious man and often gave off an intimidating vibe, but Seth knew that he wasn't that bad once you got to know him.

Seth stood, ignoring the way his back popped and cracked in protest because of how long he had spent sitting in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair. He had once started a petition to replace them with those really comfortable bean bag chairs. He actually had quite a few supporters. But Flynn, being the man he was, just rolled his eyes and walked away. Seth could feel the stares of his fellow knights burning into the back of his head as he made his way over but opted to ignore it. Seth got missions quite frequently, a fact that many knights were slightly jealous of since it would occasionally get him out of some the more mundane tasks a Knight had to complete. For example, paper work. Which is what he had been doing when he had been called. He quickly made his way over, eager to get away from the evil sea of inevitable paper cuts. He couldn't help but chuckle as he mentally heard Eve calling him a drama queen. Though she wasn't much better.

Flynn barely waited for the door of his to close behind him before he began pouring out the details of whatever job he had lined up.

" There's a dealer that's been causing us some problems. They are preying on creatures such as unicorns and there has been some rumors that they are working with some less than savory characters. I need you to track them down. " Flynn stated firmly. Seth narrowed his eyes, there was no way it was that easy. If it was that simple then they would have brought in a rookie.

"Ok, what's the catch." He replied crossing his arms over his chest.The man heaved a sigh before sliding a file towards him.

" The catch is we don't have any idea who the dealer is. We don't even have a description. However, all of our dealers crimes have a certain flare to them and we have reason to believe that he is human. We have intercepted news of a deal taking place in three days in Belize. "

Seth read the file and whistled at the lack of information. The file was extremely limited which meant that whoever was doing this knew what they were doing. The Knights of the Dawn had excellent connections and kept tabs on every possible threat so for them to be this uninformed- well lets just say it wasn't good. It also meant he was walking into this mission completely blind. He couldn't plan for anything meaning he had to plan for everything. He had no idea what was going to happen once he got there but, if you ask Seth, that was part of the fun.

"Alright I'll do it." Seth replied after a moment of thought. He had to admit he only pretended to think about it, mostly just for the suspense. He had always loved a good mystery and this mission honestly excited him.

"Good, your plane leaves tomorrow at eight am sharp. You will be issued a bag that will be stocked with supplies but I advise you to bring anything you think would be useful" He said gesturing to the satchel over his shoulder, that served as his emergency kit. " I have wired five thousand dollars into your account but if you need more than that you know who to call." Seth nodded, placing the folder in his satchel and walked out of the office, heading to his apartment to prepare for the mission ahead. He pulled his coat tighter around his body as he walked outside and realized that it was later than he had originally thought. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and though Seth loved the pinks and oranges that painted the sky, he could practically feel the temperature dropping. Last time he had checked it was 25 degrees, which is no where near as cold as it could get but it was still very cold. Despite how long he had been in Alaska, he had yet to get used to the bitter cold. And he honestly didn't think he ever would. Seth guessed he should count himself lucky, this was the Knights biggest base and it had been cleverly hidden by distractor spells as well as the natural terrain of the island. Seth shivered as a strong gust of wind blew through the base reminding him of the other reason it stayed hidden from most people. Luckily he lived on the grounds of the base so it was only about a minutes walk.

The Knights of the Dawn had no shortage of money. Seth wasn't sure how they got there hands on so much money and honestly he didn't want to know. It was all warranted though considering how many supplies they had to buy along with the amount of damage control. It was amazing sometimes how much chaos a secret organization could cause. Seth knew he definitely wasn't the favourite over in the legal department because of some of the 'incidents' that had been a result of his missions. Seth was proud to be able to state that these incidents were few and far between but when they did happen he knew they had to be a nightmare to clean up.

Needless to say, with all that money, his apartment was very nice. It had a decent size living room and kitchen which connected go a small dining area. Upstairs there was two bedrooms and a bathroom. Seth's furniture was pretty sparse if he was being honest. He had a couch that had been there when he moved in, his bed, a desk, a small dining table that has also come with the apartment, as well as few chairs scattered here and there. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He honestly wasn't here that often. He slept there when he wasn't out on missions which, once again, was pretty rare. Besides the real fun began downstairs. He walked down the stairs into what appeared to be a musty, unfinished basement. A punching bag hung from one of the exposed beams and a small pile of weights sat not far from it. Seth rarely used those, they were reserved for restless nights when the big communal gym and training area was closed for the night.

Seth strode confidently towards the back wall and slid away a lose board revealing a keypad. It was truly a horrible hiding spot for something that important but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. The neat thing about the keypad though was that it had been enchanted so that he was the only one who could touch it. Meaning that not only did you need the correct code, but he had to be the one to punch it in. He wasn't exactly sure what would happen if someone else touched it but he knew it would do more than just set off an alarm. Stuff like always made Seth feel like a true spy and totally made up for the unsecured hiding space.

Seth punched in the code and heard the distinct sound of stone scraping on stone, briefly reminding him of his few days spent in the Sphinx's prison. When the sound stopped, a small opening was revealed that lead to a room containing his weapons and supplies. From the outside the room appeared to be tiny and cramped but it had also been enchanted to be much bigger on the inside. It wasn't quite as big as the knapsack they had all those years ago but it was nothing to sneeze at. Still, no matter how big it was on the outside, Seth had to crouch down to fit through the opening. The door frame was ridiculously short and the amount of time he had smacked his head against the top was honestly embarrassing. The supplies inside the room was a knights dream. There was everything you could dream of, swords, daggers, armor, bows, you name it. The special thing about this room though, was that most of the items were his. They were things he had gathered prior to becoming a knight. Seth also had several magical talismans and tools that had gotten him out of more than a few sketchy situations. His favorite talisman was a ring that sat on his right forefinger. The ring had been a gift from The Fairy King when Seth had been accepted into the Knights Academy. It was pitch black and didn't look like much at first glance however, when you looked closer you could see three unicorns that were engraved on its surface, each of which served more functional purposes. The first unicorn, when pressed, sent out a distress signal strong enough to reach Bracken even if he was in the fairy realm. The distress signal also went out to anyone who had a connected talisman. At this point the only ones being himself and Kendra who had gotten hers when she officially began dating Bracken in the form of a bracelet. The second unicorn held a few precious drops of unicorn blood. The substance could heal almost anything but it could only be used once. The final unicorn was arguably Seth's favorite. When it was pressed it would release a pearly white dagger which had been extremely helpful in the past. The downside to this tool was that, since it was made of light, he tended to have a harder time controlling it.

Seth looked through his stash, trying to decide which weapons were right for this particular mission. He knew at this point stealth was key but if you leave for a job without a weapon, you're just going to get yourself killed.

When going on stealth missions the best route to take is small weapons that can be easily concealed, such as daggers or blow darts. However, the problem with that was those were easily detected when going through airport security. Ever since becoming a knight Seth had decided that he hated flying. It was loud, chaotic, and absolutely impossible to tell who was a danger to you.

Plus carrying weapons onto the plane was pretty much impossible but, a knight needed to be prepared in every situation. The weapon had to be easily accessible, ready at a moments notice, and the best way to do that is to build a weapon that doesn't look like a weapon. Seth walked over to a small red tool box tucked away in the corner, and pulled out a large nut and and tied a piece of cord to it. He secured the cord and then started to spin it, making sure nothing was going to fall off. And just like that he had a weapon that made a killer whip and could easily crack a mans skull if it came down to that. The best part was that it wouldn't trip any alarms. Sure it might seem a little odd that someone carries a piece of cord tied to a nut but, he wouldn't get arrested for it. Seth tied the lose cord around his neck, creating a necklace that he could hide underneath his shirt until it was needed. When that was finished he turned his attention to his emergency kit and sifted through the various items, taking out anything that would tip off a scanner. Seth gathered the items that he had taken out and moved towards the suitcase that he would be taking with him. He felt around one of the sides and unzipped a pocket so small that you most likely wouldn't see unless you knew it was there. In the pocket he placed the remaining items of his emergency kit. This time he wasn't worried about the items being seen as the pocket had been enchanted to hide the items from sight. Seth then repeated the process with the bottom of the suitcase, peeling back the inside to reveal a similar compartment that had also been enchanted to be bigger. In this pocket he placed two daggers, A blow gun and darts, and his favorite sword. He pulled the sword out of it's sheath and inspected it for any chips or dull edges. The sword was jet black and held the name Shadow Slayer, which was kind of ironic given its nature. The sword held just enough darkness to work well with him but not so much that there was a risk it would corrupt him. He had found the sword while on a mission for the fairy realm not long before joining the Knights. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to use it because lets face it, milk or no milk a sword was still a sword. However, Seth had learned that it payed to be prepared. So with that thought in mind, he placed the sheathed sword in the compartment, closed it up, and began to carry it upstairs to his bedroom. He filled the rest of the suit case with clothes and other essentials and once he was satisfied that he had everything, he closed it up.

He slumped down in his desk chair and pulled out the file he had stashed in his emergency kit, pouring over what little detail it had and attempting to prepare for what was to come.

†††††

May 21

St.Matthews Island, Alaska

5:00am

The next morning Seth was up well before five am preparing for the mission ahead. Thankfully he had always been a morning person so the early hour didn't bother him in the slightest. He grabbed his bags and exited the apartment, heading to the missions office to pick up the final things he would need for this job.

The lady at the desk, He pretty sure her name is Jennifer, smiled at him as he approached the counter. She was a women in her mid thirties and she was one of the nicer people that worked the desk. There were quite a few of the people working here that obviously didn't want to and others who even seemed to resent it. Seth really couldn't blame them though, he had worked here for a few months while he was going through training and it definitely hadn't been the most fun or exciting job out there.

" ID and case number?" She asked as more of a formality than anything else. Seth was such a regular visitor that he was pretty sure they knew who he was. However, since it was required, he slid showed them his badge and rattled the number off anyway. Seth supposed that he coukd see the logic behind the badge. It was a way of identifing someone beyond ther looks. All of them had been enchanted fo return to their owners, generally via their pocket, should they be lost. Seems simple and secure enough. However, in their line of work things were rarely that black and white. Seth is not entirely sure what would happen to the badge if their was a stingbuld or if the enchantment could be removed. Luckily they didn't do much. They were just means of identification and they didn't let you into anything at all. Any area qhich required a certain level of access had several different enchantments placed on it. Ones that were designed to recognize the person requesting access and weed out potential imposters. After the battle of Zzyzx and the whole mess with the Evening Star, the knights had undergone huge security upgrades. Bracken as well as one of his sisters, Iredessa, had set mist of the enchantments. Kendra had also played a major part on strengthening these enchantments a few years ago.

The case numbers were pretty harmless. Not the most secure but all they did was let the people at the desk know what bag of supplies to get. It didn't give access to any crucial or confidential information. The most a fake could get was an issued duffle bag and possibly some.plane tickets.

Jennifer smiled as she stood and disappeared through a secured metal door. When she returned a few minutes later she was carrying a black duffle bag which she passed to him over the counter along with a two way plane ticket.

"Thanks a lot," Seth told her, flashing a bright smile her way. She hummed in response before responding,

"Stay safe out there,"

"I'll try my best," Seth replied with a grin as he headed towards the door and began the short treck to the parking lot where a car would take him to the airport. He knew he must have looked a little funny carrying around a huge duffle bag, suit case and a leather satchel that sat across his shoulder but he wasn't worried. Every Knight here had been in similar situations before. Seth looked around the parking lot, squinting in the bright morning sun, before making his way to the small grey jeep that sat close to the front. Leaning against the side was a tall guy with wind blown red hair and a lean build. Seth smiled when he spotted him. The man's name was Parker and he was one of Seth's closest friends here on the base. They had gone through training together though, Parker was about three years older than him. He was twenty-four while Seth was only twenty-one. Seth, unfortunately, hadn't had a lot of friends at that time. Because of his shadow charmer status, people tended to be wary of him but Parker had never been deterred by his abnormal abilities.

In between his own missions Parker volunteered to drive Knights back and forth to the airport. Due to Seth's frequent missions, the two usually ended up paired together.

"Another one Sorenson? Didn't you just finish that one in Sweeping Pine preserve like a week ago?"

" Yeah, Jealous?" Seth teased, raising his eyebrows. Parker laughed and shot a playful glare at the taller boy. Despite Parker's tall height, he was still at least and inch shorter than Seth. Though to be fair, not many people were taller than Seth. A fact that many people found unsettling.

" Just a little bit dude. What, you trying to show the rest of us up or something?" Parker laughed back, poking Seth in the side as he got into the car. Seth rolled his eyes as he loaded his bags into the car before following Parker's lead. They road in silence for several minutes as Parker navigated his way out of the crowded base and set up the directions to the international airport. It wasn't everyday that a Knight flew internationally for a mission. Generally if they were going to somewhere outside the country they were going to a preserve and would have to be flown there by helicopter or other means. So while it did happen, it didn't happen often.

Seth used the temporary quiet to unzip the bulky duffle bag and look at its contents.

Looking into his bag for a mission and seeing the certain supplies or gadgets still made him a bit giddy. Like most young boys, Seth had always wanted to be a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a cheap walky-talky while humming the mission impossible theme song. And while he technically wasn't a spy, he was pretty darn close. One of the common misconceptions about the Knights of the Dawn was that they didn't use any human or modern technology such as computers and other gadgets to do their job. However that was far from true. Sure they tended to avoid it when dealing directly with magical creatures, but they often used these gadgets for things such reconnaissance.

Inside the bag was some of the things you would expect such a binoculars and many more that you wouldn't expect. Seth's favorite part of these bags were the small box near the bottom that generally came with each one. The box contained different potions that you might need for the mission. Seth had always found potions to be fascinating. There had even been a time that he had considered going into the field himself. For this particular mission he had been given a night vision potion which was pretty self explanatory, An eavesdropping potion that enhanced his hearing and allowed him to listen in on a conversation without getting too close, and a form of truth serum that would loosen the lips of of someone you wish to get information from. There was at least three bottles of each along with the normal defense and first aid potions that were added. Such as, the gaseous potion, a potion for pain, a salve for injuries and many more. On top of that Tanu insisted on making sure that Seth was always stocked with his own personal set of potions. Tanu usually supplied him with more gaseous potions, a gummy potion, a giant potion, a new potion that enhanced his focus and his reflexes, as well as plenty of first aid related ones. He seemed to be convinced that Seth would end up seriously injured on every mission. Though sadly, Seth could admit, that the worry wasn't completely unfounded. Other than the potions, the bag contained an enchanted communicator, a few listening devices, a laptop, and a few other useful knick knacks.

" Got anything good in there?" Parker questioned.

" You bet," Seth replied holding up the box of potions that was in his bag even knowing that with his friends eyes on the road and so Parker probably couldn't see them. Parker laughed anyway not needing his eyes to know what Seth was referring to.

" Seth, I swear I have never seen anyone get so excited over potions before."

" What can I say, I'm a simple guy," He replied earning a scoff from Parker.

" Uh huh, says the literal Shadow Charmer who has a mission every other week," The pair laughed once again and fell into an easy back and forth banter. Continuing there shenanigans until they pulled into the airport. It was then, as much as he, loathed to do it he bid Parker farewell , thanked him for the ride, and walked into the crowded airport.

Arriving at the airport was just as hectic as he expected it to be. Of course it was crazy for everyone but, it was even more so when you are constantly looking over your shoulder or waiting to get stopped by airport security. Thankfully he was able to board the plane okay even if his makeshift weapon did raise a few eyebrows.

Something Seth had learned was that a knight should always fly economy. It may not be the most comfortable but few people would start a fight with that many witnesses around. Plus it was easier to blend in. A tee shirt and some jeans and you were all set. Ready to settle in for a long flight.

Seth popped one ear bud in his ear but left the other out in order to let him hear incoming threats. Seth found it impossible to sleep on a plane, no matter how long the journey was, because of the unknown circumstances. It would be difficult to keep an eye on people and to know who was a threat. Unlike Kendra, Seth hated reading. Only a few books had every managed to hold his attention for any.period of time. He was too restless. He would much rather be doing something outside. Moving and exploring. He didn't mind doing art, sketching being his favorite. However, that was difficult to do in a crowded, bunny plane. So Seth resigned himself to a long ride half listening to music and ignoring the guy beside him who vaguely smelled like onions.

††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

4:45 pm

Seth stretched his stiff legs as he walked from baggage claim to the exit of the airport. He breathed deeply and relished the feeling of the sun on his skin, even though he knew he would quickly become hot. But, after a long eight and a half hour flight, they were welcome changes. He glanced at the clock hung on the wall and noted the time. He knew that Corazol Belize was about two hours ahead of Alaska. Not that it mattered. Seth was pretty much immune to jet lag at this point. Not necessarily because of the constant travel, though that certainly helped, but because of the erratic and uncertain sleep schedule he had become used to while on any mission. His body had become well trained in sleeping whenever it was told. The only thing that interrupted this was nightmares but he rarely got those while on missions because his mind was too focused on other things. Seth would never admit it but that's one of the reasons he takes on as many missions as they will give him.

Seth's hotel was not far from the airport so he opted to walk there. He had done some research the night before and found a hotel that he rented under the name of Roger Alpine. The Knights would usually rent one for you but Seth preferred to do it himself. To say the hotel he chose was run down would be putting it nicely. The paint was peeling horribly from the siding and it was definitely not on the nicest side of town. The rooms were separated from the outside by a door with A flimsy looking lock, something Seth would secure once he had settled in. The room held a musty scent mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in some unsettling stains, a side table and lamp beside it, and a desk under the window. The window itself had a pair of thin ratty curtains and crooked blinds. There wasn't much Seth could do about the window, except string up a blanket, which he did. Opening his suitcase and removing his clothes, he opened the hidden compartment. From inside he took out the pieces of his emergency kit that he had stashed. He also opened up the duffle bag he had and pulled out a few other various knick knacks that he thought he might find useful. He then empty the remaining items into the compartment at the bottom of his suitcase. Leaving the duffle bag empty. This was.common practice for Seth in a place like this. He didn't want to leave his unused supplies in a relatively unprotected duffle bag while he was away. Unfortunately this was something Seth had learned the hard way.

In the end Seth was left with: the box of potions, a rope, a small bottle which held a thin dust that immediately soaked into the skin upon contact allowing the victim to be tracked, dark sunglasses (which did indeed have a camera and microphone installed) , a slingshot, some marbles( which as Seth had found were great for distractions), binoculars, and a pair of ear buds. All of these things were packed neatly into his emergency kit, ready for use. He still had his makeshift weapon secured around his neck and two knife secured in a holster and strapped to each of his legs. He had glanced mournfully at his sword but knew that it would only draw in wanted attention. Besides today wasn't about getting into a fight. Today was about exploring Corazol and getting a lay of the land. Still it played to be prepared, hence the knives. Finally, satisfied that he was ready, Seth left the dingy hotel room and began to wander along the streets. Searching for anything that might lead him in the right direction.

Corazol was a quaint little sea side town. You could smell the salt in the air, carried by the cool breeze. Corazol was small in population but it also had its fair amount of tourists. Especially right now with summer just around the corner. The busy streets were lined with street vendors all vying for his attention but Seth was more interest in searching his surroundings. The smells coming from said street vendors were heavenly and caused his stomach to crumble loudly reminding him that not only had he not eaten breakfast this morning, but that he had been walking for over an hour. Technically he could have rented a car, he definitely had the funds for it, and most Knights probably would. However Seth, was not most Knights. He didn't like rental cars for many reasons, one because it was easier to see a car and a license plate then just someone walking in a crowd. Two, every rental car was required to have trackers and such in them to prevent theft which was fine in most cases but problematic for him. That wasn't necessarily a huge risk but it was still one Seth wasn't willing to take. Maybe he had grown paranoid, but he was still alive so there's that. Finally he didn't like rental cars because, in his line of work, it was likely to get beaten up or destroyed. Plus having a car would cause him to miss out on the unique sights, sounds, and smells. That is yet another thing Seth loved about his job. It allowed him to travel the world and to see as well as, experience things he would never get to otherwise.

He had to admit this was a good place to go if you were going to hunt for artifacts and magical creatures and then illegally sell them . The Cerror Ruins were only a few miles away and Seth knew that it was a prime spot for missing person's cases, especially when people wandered off alone. He hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't have to venture there during this trip but, that's definitely where he would go if he was an illegal dealer trying to avoid the Knights as well as any other prying eyes and ears. Plus it wasn't exactly a place you would expect anything big to happen. And besides the Cerror Ruins, their wasn't really anything magical about the place. It honestly seemed kind of ordinary. It was perfect because it tended to be overlooked.

After another thirty minutes had past, the rumbling in Seth's stomach became too overwhelming to ignore and he resolved find a place to eat. He stumbled upon a small hole in the wall restaurant that seemed to be pretty popular amongst the locals. Meaning it was the perfect place for Seth to gather some information.

Even though he worked directly with magical creatures, you'd be surprised how many times he had to interact with regular people. The knowledge gathered from these people was often shaky at best and should definitely be taken with a grain of salt. However, this information often helped him form some semblance of an idea. In his experience Seth had learned that regular people noticed a lot more than even they realize. In addition most people never pass up a chance for a good gossip. And since they didn't know how valuable their information was, they were a lot less stingy with it. The only problem you run into is when they begin to ask questions and wonder why you're asking and who you are. When that happens you become the subject of gossip and word will eventually get back to you enemy. That's why Seth hated small towns. The information might be easier to come by, but it was also easier to get caught. And getting caught meant revealing your mission too soon.

In his line of work , timing was everything. Move in too soon and you risk blowing you cover as well as the entire mission. However, if you don't move in quick enough you'll miss your chance to get your guy. That perfect timing came only when you knew you enemy better than they knew themselves. It came from careful observation and lots of Intel.

Gathering Intel was arguably one of the most boring and tedious parts of Seth's job. It involved a lot of waiting, listening, learning, more waiting, and every once and awhile, a well calculated risk. Luckily, for Seth, his shade walking gave him an edge in this particular area. The ability allowed him to get closer to his enemies so he could overhear plans and put together one of his own. However no ability came without its share of risks. He had gotten a lot better at learning to shroud himself in the shadow to help cover his movements when shade walking but it wasn't an exact science. Not adding enough shadow would reveal his position should he happen to move too quickly however, adding too much shadow could be just as revealing.

Seth's favorite way of gathering Intel was doing exactly what he was doing now. Finding a place to eat while he sat back and listened. Small places like the diner he had just entered were prime spots for gossip. Additionally, they gave him an opening to talk with the locals in a relatively unsuspicious way. People tended to loosen up and talk more freely when both parties were eating. Plus it gave Seth a reason to try all the local dishes. Most of which were pretty good. The smell of home cooked food hit his nose the minute he walked through the door making his mouth water so much it was a wonder he didn't start drooling. He was met at the entrance by a plump, kind looking lady, who appeared to be somewhere in her mid fifties judging by the gray streaking through her black hair. The hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head, accentuating her full rosy cheeks. He apron stated that he name was Rosa which somehow seemed to fit her perfectly, even thought Seth didn't know her. She gave off a very motherly vibe that instantly made Seth feel at home. With a smile she led Seth to a table and asked him for his drink order. To which he replied with a simple black coffee. Coffee was something Seth had quickly become addicted when he became a Knight. It often helped him through the multiple all nighters he pulled while on a mission. Some minutes later she returned with his coffee, this time ready for his order of food.

" What would you recommend. I'm from out of town so I'm counting on you to hook me up with the good stuff," He said with a wink. Rosa laughed heartily and replied with a thick accent,

" Well only for you I will tell you my personal favorite," She rattled off the name of a dish which sounded completely foreign to Seth but he wasn't going to admit that.

" Ok then, you've talked me into it,.I'll get that," He replied and as Rosa turned to leave he continued, " And could you do me a favor and just wave your little magic wand and take all the fat and calories out for me," Once again Rosa replied with a full bellied laugh.

"You are a funny man. But for you I will have to add extra. Maybe then some of it will stick. You look like you need it," She teased in return before turning a leaving Seth alone once more. He leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his phone. Absent mindedly scrolling through something or another and trying to hide the fact that he was listening to the conversations around him. The diner was loud, making it difficult to discern the voice of only one person. Seth was tempted to use the potion he had that would hone his eyesight and hearing but didn't want to waste it seeing as he only had one. It would be unfortunate to use all of it now at the beginning of the mission when he could need it more later on.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rose who had come with his food. Seth was shocked at how quick the service was seeing as it was rush hour and the small diner was packed to the gills. With the meal she also brought his check. Seth glanced at the check, surprised at the low prices considering the quality of the food.

" Well would you look at that! you must have given me the senior citizen discount!" He paused for the laugh that he had come to expect and then followed up with, "So what are some cool things to do and see while I'm here, anything particularly interesting?"

" Oh well the Cerror Ruins are always a prime spot for tourism but you must be careful to stay on the trails. Too many people wander off and go missing. One of my favorite things is to see the sights at night. The water takes on this stunning color and you can see the star as clear as day. But if you choose that route you best stay away from Devils Tavern. Its on the North end of Corazol, close to the beaches. That place is nothing but trouble, and full of shady characters, especially recently," Rosa said. Rosa was obviously the type of person who talked openly once you got them going. The last part of her sentence caught Seth's attention.

" Really, shady people in this town? Surely not everyone seems so nice,"

" You are young. You haven't seen the darkness of man. People are not always as they seem child," She replied with a sad smile. Seth internally rolled his eyes. If only she knew. " But yes, a week or so ago , this man arrived and came into the diner to eat. He seemed normal enough even if he was a bit rude. However, later that night I saw him outside the Devils Tavern, its on my route home you see, and he was talking in hushed tones with another man. They were standing in the shadows real creepy like. I wasn't really able to hear what they were saying but they didn't sound to happy and they looked like they were planning something, " Rosa finished with a grim look on her face. A look that didn't last long as it was replaced with her usual bright smile.

Seth stored the information away for later, and smiled brightly in return. Acting as if the information had no effect on him at all. Something that had always made Seth a good agent was his poker face. He had a good control over which emotions showed on his face. This was a vast contrast to Kendra who tended to be easily read, like an open book. One with pictures and big letters. A fact that Seth ,and surprisingly Bracken, had teased her relentlessly for.

" Well I won't keep you, thanks for chatting with me . And I will be sure to check out those suggestions," He said, putting an end to the conversation. Seth then dug into his food, nearly moaning at the taste. It was incredibly good. Probably one of the best meals he's had while on a mission. While he ate, he began to sift through the information that he had been given. As always he had to wonder how much of it was true, seeing as people had a tendency to exaggerate. He also couldn't bring himself to believe that Rosa stumbled upon the Devil's Tavern, a place she claimed to despise, on her way home. From what he had seen of Corazol most of the housing was away from that part of the beaches. He wasn't going to completely discredit it but as Rosa had said, people aren't always who they seemed. However, no how much truth there was in the statement, one thing remained true. Tonight he was heading to the Devil's Tavern.

†††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

10:00pm

Seth walked through the darkened streets. Careful to remain close enough to the street lights so as not to unintentionally shade walk. He had gotten a lot better at controlling it but it still happened from time to time. And he couldn't afford giving himself away like that. Just in case there were eyes watching him that he could not see. He had done a pretty good job of keeping on the down low. After lunch he had wandered around the streets a bit more and then headed to the beaches. Particularly the part of the beach close to the Devil's Tavern. The Devil's Tavern had been relatively quiet during the day. The sign had stated that they were opened but it had seemed oddly empty. That was a stark contrast to what he was seeing now.

The tavern now seemed to be packed to the gills with people. And even more of them were standing outside. Even from where he was standing a few feet away he could hear the loud music that played he could see the bright, colorful lights shiny through the windows. As Seth drew closer he saw a problem. Standing at the door was a big burly man wearing dark sunglasses and a tight short sleeved T-shirt that accented his bulging muscles. He was shorter than Seth, most people were, but he made up for it in width. Seth was considered to have pretty wide shoulders and his years of training had hardened his muscles into steel cords. However, none of this reassured him as he stared at a man that looked like he could snap him in half like a twig. He wasn't scared of the man per say. But, he was definitely cautious.

As Seth approached the man he seemed to be doing his own analysis and his stance showed that he didn't feel even the slightest bit intimidated. Which was fair and actually worked to Seth's advantage He had done his best to tone down the darkness of his aura that seemed to put people on edge. Plus the leather jacket he had opted to wear hit the bulk of his muscles, which weren't overly pronounced to begin with, as well as a few... other tools. Aside from the daggers strapped to his legs and the makeshift weapon around his neck, he had three throwing knives cleverly hidden in the folds of his jacket. Unfortunately, much to Seth's displeasure, he had once again leave his sword behind. As weird as it may sound he felt like the sword gave him a better sense of security than the multiple knives strapped to his body. He was dangerous with both weapons and that was disregarding the fact that he was a shadow charmer. So even without the sword, he was hardly helpless. Still, he always felt oddly bare without it. A look settled on the bouncers face. A look that Seth had often seen on bullies when he was a kid. In the end that was all this guy was. A bully. And obviously he saw Seth as his next victim. However, despite all the scenarios Seth was mentally planning for, all the man did was sneer. Seth did his best to pretend he was scared as he entered the building

The air smelled heavily of alcohol and the music, which had been loud before, now seemed to shake the floor. He immediately began to weave his way through the sweaty bodies packing the room searching for signs of anything that was amiss. You would think that a place with this much chaos would make it harder to find anything let alone one person but for Seth it made it easier. If there was one thing that the file full of its limited information had taught Seth was that this guy was far from careless. He wouldn't risk anything that might loosen his tongue. The rest of the people in this place shared no such caution. So find the guy who can walk a straight line and that was probably who Seth was looking for.

He hadn't been searching for more than five minutes when something caught his eyes. His eyes darted to what had caught his attention and and, confirming his previous suspicions to be true, he found Rosa.

†††††

So there is part one!!!! Most of this collection will be one shots but seeing as this z alone is over seven thousand words I figured I needed to split them up. I will hopefully be able to post the next part very soon. It needs a few touch ups and changes but.other than that its.practically done. This took SOOO much research its not even funny. I'm pretty sure trip advisor things I'm moving to Belize. Anyway I really hope you all like it, it is probably one of my favorite fics to date so let me know what you think. I apologize for any mistakes you may find. Let me know what adventures you want Seth to have in this book or any other requests you have!!!!!

#fablehaven #dragonwatch #fhdw #seth sorenson #Knights of the dawn #i loved writing this one

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carrioncrows-readers · 3 years

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You may not be good at a lot, but damn if you don't know business and numbers.

Content Warnings: major content warning for sexual harassment, explicit violence

When Jacob first brought you to the brothel, you thought he'd genuinely lost his mind — you made it quite clear you weren't interested in fucking him for money. With his arm around your shoulders, you were prepared to make quite a lot of fuss if he tried anything — but he didn't. Instead, he offered you a bookkeeping job for steady pay, with room to take "freelancing" on commission should you so desire. It was unexpected. It was — nice. The place is nice. A bit gauche, and good lord, those curtains are tacky, but you didn't expect prostitutes to be so…

Well. Nice.

Come to find out, the woman who left a lipstick stain on Jacob's cheek (you aren't jealous; you aren't) is named Jenny. Jenny is in the elected position of being madame (you didn't know madames were elected?) of the establishment. Which also happens to be the name of the brothel itself. The Establishment. Tongue-in-cheek, but effective.

She's full-bodied and impossibly soft, brown hair piled into curls on top of her head. The pearls she wears are gifts from clients, apparently, and it's become so much of a running joke that for her birthday, the girls saved up to get her a new set of pearl earrings for fun. You have no idea why she wears them all at once.

She peers over your shoulder as you scribble in the ledger, writing down dates and numbers, trying not to get a headache putting it all together. Unfortunately, you haven't had time to sharpen up your sums.

"Ms. Jenny," you glance at her from the corner of your eye, looking for a way to fill the silence since no one is murdering the pianoforte, "can I ask why you haven't done the bookkeeping yourself?" She hums and smiles at you. You notice dimples in the roundness of her cheeks, like craters on the moon.

"Well, dearie, it's because I can nary read nor write. Neither can any of the others — been meaning to hire a bookkeeper for a bit, just never got 'round to it, I suppose." Suddenly and for, of course, no reason at all, you want to disappear into the floor. You should have guessed. Now you feel awful.

You look at your notes. You had all the girls tell you a rough estimate of their earnings for the past six months; some were more accurate than others, but you get the feeling that Jacob just wanted to find you something to do. He doesn't take a massive percentage anyways; usually, it fluctuates depending on how much they've earned that month. Always enough for a comfortable living after expenses, always favorable towards the brothel residents. You've no idea why, just that he somehow manages to supplement his own income enough that it doesn't put him in the red.

"I see," you say, pausing to add up all the earnings for July, minus overhead. Jenny leans in with her eyes narrowed and pokes your side, making you jump so high your ass almost hits the ceiling.

"You're a right hard one to read you are; what's that supposed to mean? Hm?" She pokes you again, and you feel your cheeks burn bright red.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just — felt terrible for asking, I suppose. Ow." You rub your side — does the woman have knives for fingers, or is your skin just made of paper? She pokes your arm — definitely knife fingers.

"Well, no harm done."

You sit quietly, shuffling papers in the ledger until everything is tight and up to date — it's not doing too terribly for a Whitechapel brothel. Still, there are some improvements to be made — namely, the settlement of customer debts.

How ironic that you have become the creditor now.

You set your pen down and lean against your steepled fingers, a plot crawling up the back of your mind and settling in. You ask Ms. Jenny, since she is much more familiar with the Rooks than you, to find you a few burly men. And to tell them to bring weapons. Blunt ones.

This is your job now — you'll be damned if you're not going to do it well. Besides, this isn't something you should bother Jacob with.

It isn't tricky to track down your debtors; one look at you smiling in your silks and velveteens, a train of rugged brutes behind you, and people scrape the ground to tell you where your targets live. They know what's coming, and they're not eager to try and quell the storm. You knock very politely on the door to an apartment in a run-down shack of a building, watching it crack open a hair's breadth. That is all the opening your boys need — they muscle in and push Mr. Curtis to the ground. You ignore him swearing to shut the door, folding your hands in front of your stomach.

"Mr. Curtis! I believe we have business."

"I don't know what you're fucking talkin' about," he spits. A simple nod of your head is all the excuse one of your enforcers needs to start walloping Mr. Curtis about the head until he begs you to stop him. You do, the smile on your face ever so slowly becoming a genuine manic grin.

"You owe my employer quite a bit of money. Do you have a wife, Mr. Curtis? I assume not if you visit brothels so often, but I wouldn't put it past you to cheat, either." Curtis rolls onto his side and covers his weeping nose, and you're fascinated by the slow drip-drip-drip of red into a puddle on the floor. "You have one month, which I find very generous. Can you read?" You don't receive an answer, just a low groan of pain that sends a tingle up your toes; you pull a piece of paper out of your pocket, the ink already dry as you sit it on a side table. On it is a sum of money, a date, and Curtis' name.

You leave him to lick his wounds, damn near skipping out into the darkened street. You visit three more houses in short order before returning to the brothel to see Jacob leaned over the intake desk, talking with Jenny. They both have lit cigars between their fingers. You had no idea Jacob smoked. He turns his head, and you suddenly feel self-conscious of where you've been.

"Done terrorizing the whole of Whitechapel?" He asks, but he doesn't sound unangry. Not that it doesn't stop you from worrying that he's simply putting on an air of calm. You quail and fiddle with the ends of your gloves, staring at your shoes.

"I apologize-"

"Think nothing of it," he says and comes over to pat your shoulder. "Debts need to be paid, and I appreciate you looking after my people. Your people now, too, I guess." Your people. You stare at Jacob and his toothy smile around his cigar, his hand still settled on your shoulder like it belongs there. You clear your throat and shrug it off, hurrying to the desk to note down when your debtors are supposed to send in their payments. It's mostly just to keep your hands busy.

Your people.

You've never really belonged to a group before. You exist in the gray strata between the middle class and the aristocracy, scathingly referred to as the nouveau riche by your would-be peers and mistrust by the working people of London, you belong nowhere. Unwelcome in the clubs and symposiums of the genteel, nor the pubs and coffeehouses of the mercantile caste. You didn't even have that many friends among the newly rich, either. Even for them, you were too… off. Violet Morvell was someone who tolerated you enough to call you acquaintance. Or so you thought.

The idea of having people is foreign and exciting, and terrifying all at once.

***

Your time at the brothel is well-spent. You buy yourself a math primer with the salary you get and brush up on your sums. With that knowledge in hand, you are brutally efficient with the finances of The Establishment. You set up a sign-in sheet and record every name that comes through the door, much to the patrons' shock and chagrin. The burly doorman you recently hired on is insistence enough they give you their real names, which in and of themselves are insurance. Occasionally he has to throw out a tirading customer, but they usually come back for their fix of unfortunate women. Sex, you suppose, is at the root of most vices.

At the end of the month, all four of your debtors turn their money into your capable (you hope) hands. You didn't have to visit them a second time — they either respect Jacob Frye too much, or they're too terrified of him to keep skimping on his money.

You begin educating a few of the girls on manners, etiquette, and how to properly play a pianoforte without sounding like they're torturing a cow. When you suggest that the brothel start serving tea and coffee to waiting customers, Ms. Jenny happily converts one of the rooms into a small kitchen. It makes more overhead, but in the end, the payout is astounding — it makes the patrons feel special, and men who feel special are pleasantly inclined to give more in terms of tips. Pun intended. Jacob would be proud of that one, you think.

It also attracts wealthier clientele, whom you are more than happy to charge extra for the pleasure of pretty company. The Establishment prospers with you holding the purse strings; you almost dare yourself to feel proud. The Rooks have taken to calling you bookie, of all things. Sometimes they even invite you out for drinks.

You've never had a nickname before. You think you might like it.

The English winter drudges on and turns into an English spring, and you settle into a rhythm. You moved into an apartment in Whitechapel, a nicer one (in comparison — it's still poverty when set beside how you used to live, but you think you're slowly acclimating to it) closer to work. You spend most of your time with Ms. Jenny and the girls anyway — most nights, you find yourself passed out at your desk until Ms. Jenny shoos you to a couch in a dark corner by the stairs. She begins to insist that you call her Jenny, just Jenny — but that seems like a breach to you, a line you're just not ready to cross yet, no matter how many times she covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep in the receiving room.

At the end of every month, you meet Jacob in a pub to hand over his cut and go over the ledger. He always lingers to talk with you after, and you've gotten to know him, you think. As much as you can know someone who somehow manages to head both a crime syndicate and an alleged, shady reactionary freedom movement. At least that's what you can glean from the whispered conversations he's had with you when you ask after it.

"I think I know that look," he says, pointing his glass at you, "what are you thinking about?"

Damn him and his sharp eyes — you really must be more careful about your expressions.

"I realize that I don't actually know you at all," you say, swirling your glass around in your hand to slosh the wine inside. Frye's response is a dry chuckle and little more than that, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his own cup. You know he's not partial to wine. You know he prefers milds to bitters and finds that lager doesn't have the malty taste he enjoys, but he drinks it when he goes to Evie and Jayadeep's. But beyond that? He may as well be a ghost to you.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he says. You watch him chug half his cup before he sits it down again, wipes his mouth, and clears his throat. You sit your glass down, a companion piece. You'd threaten to kick him over not savoring it, but the wine they serve here isn't worth savoring.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" He seems utterly baffled by the idea.

"You know — things you enjoy. That you do on your off time."

"I think it's so incredibly, endearingly bold of you to assume I have off time." He smiles and then leans his chin on the heel of his hand and makes a show of thinking. "I do enjoy a good game of cards."

"Does that count as a hobby?"

"Why wouldn't it? Not everyone can afford to learn croquet or whatever they teach at Fancy Lads and Lasses School for Fancy Lads and Lasses." That stings — you take a drink of wine to lessen the bruise that puts on your ego, and Jacob visibly softens with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. That was unkind of me."

"No — no, you're right." You look down at your hands, smooth and uncalloused, and rub your thumb against your palm to keep them busy. "I'm coming to learn that the world is very different from what I thought."

You don't know why you said it. Or why Jacob Frye touches his fingertips to yours after a long, pregnant pause. You startle, and you look up to see him with that softened smile.

"It's a lot to take in." He pulls his hand away; you find yourself missing the brush of it. Your fingers curl into your palms of their own accord.

"When did you first learn about all this Assassin and Templar business?" You ask.

"About four minutes after Evie, right out of the womb. We were raised in it. Our parents were both Assassins, so were our grandparents, probably their grandparents too. It's a good thing we keep dying young; otherwise, we'd be twice as inbred as Her Majesty and company." You gasp.

"That is the queen you're insulting!"

"She's a right shit old bird, is what she is," he plants a hand on his chest, looking wounded. "She almost took Evie's knighthood! Because we dared ask politely for her not to steamroll over all India and probably gleefully kick puppies in the process."

"Evie was knighted?"

"Henry and I too, but I didn't want the damn thing."

"You're a knight?" He curls his lip, topping up your glass and sighing. He nods his head as though it's a burden, and you snort into your wine glass. The dismay strangely suits him — he doesn't seem the type to want or even know what to do with a knighthood. You can't imagine him in a suit and medal either, no matter how hard you try.

You're about to ask him what his parents thought about him being here when someone grabs a chair and muscles their way to your table. You're pushed damn near into the wall, scowling and moving if only to keep your wine from spilling. You recognize the idiot who stuck his nose in — his name is Smith, and he's a bastard.

You've had to throw him out of The Establishment more than once; you'd entertain the idea that he has some sort of vendetta against you, but he's not worth the effort of thinking about. He downs his bottle of lager and sits it down onto the table, swaying in his seat. His eyes are bloodshot under the greasy, unwashed blond mop of his hair. He grins at Jacob with all his teeth after he greets him warmly. Loudly.

You cow in the corner as the whole bar turns to look at your table, trying to hide in your skin. For the most part, Jacob seems annoyed. Still, he greets Smith with the impatient smile of a father whose child interrupted an important meeting. You can see a muscle twitch in his cheek when Smith leans on you, his hand wrapping like an uncomfortable snake around your waist.

Your heart freezes, and every muscle you own goes rigid like stone as he spreads his palm over your hip.

"Didn't know you visited the Judies, boss! How much does ol' bookie go for these days? Gold or silver?" You grip your wine glass until your knuckles threaten to split, hot behind the ears as he leans in. His breath smells like a month's worth of stale beer. You fix him with your eye and pull your lip away from your teeth, speaking through a tight jaw. Usually, that is enough to get the handsy ones to back off; not tonight, apparently.

"You know very well that I work the desk. Nothing more, Mr. Smith."

"Yeah, with that stick up your arse, I bet you don't get many Johns. No room." He winks at Jacob, who simply sits and lets you wallow in your misery, the smile gone from his face. You look at him, pleading, as Smith leans even further in and plucks your wine glass out of your hands. You can't move. You can't stop him.

"Aw, c'mon, poppet! Give us a smile." Jacob grits his teeth until his jaw is white, a warning snarl curling his lip away from his teeth.

"That is enough, Smith."

"What? Boss, I'm jus' havin' a little fun. Hazin' the greenies, you know how it is." Smith turns back to you, leering ever closer, the rank of his breath falling across your cheek. "You're having fun, aren't you, darling?" The world melts away, candle wax as his hand travels down to rest on the outside of your thigh. You can only think of Thomas Fucking Morvell. His hand around your waist. It feels so suffocatingly like he's there instead of Smith, and something-

Something in you.

Snaps.

You think you might be seeing yourself outside your body, your hand wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as you slam the motherfucker into his big mouth. It explodes in a haze of glass. The force pushes him backward, out of the booth, onto the floor, and he covers his bleeding face with his hands and screams, screams, screams.

"You stupid fucking cunt!" Smith wails more obscenities at you, but you aren't listening. Your ears ring. The bottle feels oh-so-right in your hands, perfect. Jacob stands when you do, eyes wide and eyebrows high, but he's not quick enough to stop you from straddling Smith's chest and grabbing his lacerated jaw with your hand. Glass cuts into your fingers. He stares up with one eye swollen shut with blood and the other ballooned in horror. You raise the shattered, razor-sharp bottleneck over your head. You feel like an animal.

You wish you could say something clever — but your teeth are pressed so tightly that your words wither and die at the pass. Smith shrieks when your arm falls towards his eyes in a violent arch.

Aren't you having fun, poppet? Gimme a smile.

Something firm and solid stops your arm and wrenches you up with so much force you spin, and the bestial part of you uses the momentum to try to punch out at whatever's caught you. You've never thrown a punch in your life, but by God, are you going to throw one now. Something grabs that arm too.

You force yourself to refocus, panting hard and covered in blood from a million tiny cuts, splattered in Smith's gore and stale beer.

Jacob is staring at you, holding your wrists tight and firm to keep you from hurting someone else — or yourself. Then, finally, the horror dawns on you that the bar — the entire bar — is staring at you. You drop the bloodied bottleneck; your chest feels like it's going to implode. And yet Jacob keeps staring.

"You," he says, more to himself than you, "are full of so many interesting surprises."

***

You are cleaned up, bandaged, and taken to a private room above the bar. You spend minutes (hours, feels like) pacing. Back, forth — back, forth. You chew at your bandages and lament that your nails are covered, gnashing like a beast to try and bite them to the quick.

When Jacob opens the door, you want to throw yourself at his feet.

"Jacob," your voice wobbles, your breath coming out in short gasps, "I am so, so sorry-" He cuts you off with a raised hand.

"No, I'm sorry."

...What?

Whatever for?

You stare in stunned silence while he rubs the back of his neck. "You were obviously uncomfortable, and he just — kept touching you. And I didn't stop him. I'm sorry."

"You — You told him to stop." You want to laugh. This is a trick — this has to be a trick.

"That is not enough." He sighs. "Considering I know what it feels like." He grimaces at the floor, arms crossed, and you collapse back to sit on the bare mattress, hearing the frame creak its protest under your weight. The two of you exist in oppressive quiet until Jacob pipes up from the door.

"But — that was impressive, back there. And you've shown a lot of initiative and drive these past few months. I think you should join us — the Creed." It sounds like a speech he's rehearsed for months, shocked into pulling it out now at the most inopportune of times. It's damn-near comical, but you can't bring yourself to laugh.

"Again, with your crazy cult of conspiracy theorists." You sag, running a hand over your face. "Fine. I'll join you. What else do I have to lose?" The silence that follows is awkward and strange, so you try to fill it with conversation. "What did you mean when you said you knew what it felt like?" Jacob leans against the wall, watching a patch of the floor behind you with great interest. It takes him a moment to speak, but he sounds distant. Weather vaned to a place in history far away.

"His name was Maxwell Roth."

"The old leader of the Blighters? The one that set fire to the Alhambra?"

"The very same." You try to conjure him in your mind from what you remember. You come up with a shadowed figure in a mask and a cruel grin; you only know that he was much older than the two of you. You pull your knee to your chest and block out the thoughts as Roth slowly mutates into a figure you know far, far too well, and hate far, far too much.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"Don't be — it was a lifetime ago."

"A year," you smile; it doesn't reach your eyes. "But those can feel like lifetimes, can't they?"

"Sure as the sun shits gold, are you right." He moves to sit beside you, his hands folded between his knees, back bent. "He — I loved him. At least I think I did, afterward. After he died. He'd call me darling and my dear, and he made me feel so — so damn good about myself — all the things I'd accomplished like I was special. But I think we both loved a man who was," he trails off, trying so hard to find the words. You finish for him, hauntingly familiar with the feeling.

"Different from who the real man was," you say. "You loved the image you had in your head." And afterward, Jacob fell in love with the nostalgia.

"Right." He pauses and then coughs, the tips of his ears red. "We never had sex. I mean, afterward, shit — yeah, there were men. But for Roth and me — he was just touchy-feely. I thought I didn't mind then, but looking back on it now…" You feel nausea coil in your stomach; it's like looking in a mirror.

You never would have known. Or maybe he's just not as broken as you.

But to hear that you're not alone — you can find some measure of comfort in that, even if you're horrified to see your doppelganger sitting by you. You ask Jacob if Evie knows — she doesn't. She never will, if he has anything to say about it; all she knows is that something changed when he killed Roth, maybe for better or maybe for worse.

You don't know what to do — so you hesitantly lean against him, hoping that you're a comforting weight. He lets you. You stare straight ahead to keep from crumpling like a paper crane.

"I'm glad you said yes," he says. "This isn't — it's not a life I ask you to join lightly."

"What do I have to lose?" You repeat yourself, finally feeling brave enough to glance up, watching Jacob light a match and catch fire to the end of a cigar — the same one he's been smoking for a week, you realize. He must be saving it. "Does your mother know you smoke those things?" Not that it'd make much of a stir — they're meant to be healthy for the lungs anyhow. It's just unfortunate about the smell.

"Didn't know her," he says, almost as a throwaway comment as he takes a deep drag of smoke. You jolt, the shock of it filling your bones. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, fiddling with the selvage of your bandages. "I simply realized that we have much more in common than I thought."

#dig yourself a hole #ac syndicate #jacob frye #m #general #multichapter #i will say. you DO get to hit someone in the face with a beer bottle in this one #catharsis <3

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (19)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Ahhh...Love. The most wonderful thing in the world for anyone. Being in love and loved by someone can make you grow wings... figuratively. Life seems more radiant, exciting, fun, enjoyable when you are in love. A bond is forged between you and the one you loved. This bond can become, at the end of each road, stronger or more fragile. This is what I will call: gold yarn and black yarn. The golden yarn represents a strong love, a love that has gone through all the trials and that has come out stronger and stronger. This yarn is unbreakable.

The black yarn on the other hand... Represents a broken love. A love that ends up cracking on all sides. A love in which arguments follow, which sometimes comes to the hands. A love that, despite the desperate attempts of one or the other, ends up broken permanently. And in the end, we separate, each one rebuilding his life. Sometimes you get there. But some can't stand it... and the consequences are irreversible.

But let's go back to the positive side! It is in a serene, cheerful mood that you got up this morning. After all, there's enough! You and Jed are dating now! last night was the best night of your life. Knowing that it’s reciprocal, and that, despite the arguments to come, he will support you when it’s necessary, makes you feel lighter, more soothed. It will all be very different compared to Alex... you promised yourself that.

You and Alex dated for two years. You’ve met him in high school, he was a little genius and a sportsman, while you were more linguistic and theatral. While the first year was pleasant and fulfilled, the second was a disaster. He cheated on you from the beginning with someone else, but he didn't want to tell you. The worst part is that for him, all this was normal, the other girl was prettier, more... generous in terms of her forms. While you were just a little girl in her eyes. It broke your heart and you kicked him in the ass.

“This is all he deserves for doing that to me. Bastard.” You said to yourself.

And you’re right. No one should play with feelings. No one. But Jed is different. You know that. He'll never let you down for another one. But... What if another woman tries to steal him from you? What if she used her charms to seduce him? And that it worked? You couldn't stand it; you couldn't bear the fact that you were still abandoned because of a hottie who only wants sex and nothing more.

Don't start thinking about that! this is just the beginning of your relationship. You've got time. And knowing Jed, you think he won't be stupid enough to succumb to the charms of another.

“I’ll treat you like a queen. Do you prefer a boring life to that? Think carefully...He or I.”

The words of Ghostface came back to you. It's true that you like to have a life of risk. That you're willing to do crazy things. But you have your own business now. Maybe it's time to think about a more settled life. Quieter. And with Jed, you can't dream better. And then, Ghostface treating you like a queen? What a good joke. You imagine Ghostface bringing you a cup of tea... filled with sleeping pills. And once asleep.... he could do whatever he wants with you.

And then, if in the early days it would be "nice", Later it will be blows. insults. And in the end, he will force you to participate in his massacres. A life that would shame your parents if they were still alive. In a sense, and even if it's sad and mean to admit it, you're glad that your parents are no longer here, or that you don't live in the same city as your uncles and aunts. Who knows what Ghostface would have done? Kill them? Surely. To use them to blackmail you and never leave him? Also. And you don't even dare imagine if you had children with this lunatic. Explain to your child that his father is a murderer, but otherwise everything is fine. You're talking about a family life.

Today is your day off. Yes, technically you spent two days in the hospital because of a fool who had the good idea to attack you in broad daylight in front of everyone. Let's hope he enjoys his time in prison. So, in real life, you could have worked today. But you're not sure you'll have a lot of people. Melina isn't working today either. It's her day off. She sent you a message last night saying she would come by today to discuss it. So, she's going to hear the news from you. And knowing her she's going to bother that poor Jed, as soon as she gets back to work tomorrow.

“Melina is Melina. I don’t think that anybody can change her. But at least, it may be better that she is so. You never get bored with her. And then... I know that she will move away all those who want to separate us, knowing her temper.” you said to yourself, laughing.

First thing to do...clean the apartment a bit. Because since you've been here and especially since your short stay in the hospital, you live with dust sheep. And if you personally don't care, to receive guests it's not very elegant. And after cleaning, a good shower is required. Then kitchen operation! Knowing that Melina will surely come to eat at your home, hurry to know how yesterday's evening went.

You spend a good hour cleaning everything before you shower and you dress comfortably. That's when Melina knocked on the door. All excited she gave you a big hug, a little too tight for your liking. But she finally lets you go and both go into the living room. You serve her a glass of rosé, the only alcohol you have for the guests. While for you, a homemade orange juice is deserved.

“Then tell me! How did it go last night? How was he dressed? What did you eat?? Did you kiss? Are you together??” She asks, excited like a child waiting to receive his gift at Christmas.

“Calm down, calm down. I'll tell you all about it. But stay quiet, you look like a little girl at Christmas or in an amusement park.” you respond laughing, seeing your friend's enthusiasm.

“Sorry! It's just that...when he told me that you have a dinner with him, I was so excited to know how it happened!”

“Well... he was really cute. Very elegant, we had a good laugh. And we eaten very well. He had made everything from starter to dessert. And we explained and...”

“Aaaaaaand ?”

“We kissed. Twice. So, we can say that we are officially in a relationship.”

“I knew it, I knew it, i knew it! Oh (y/n) you don't know how happy I am for both of you! She answered so happy.

you can't help but laugh. She's really sweet. You both eat a small pasta salad, with surimi, piquillo's, and a little tuna followed by a strawberry pie. Melina had taken the cheese and bread; she was not the type to come to someone's house empty-handed. You talk about everything and nothing, laughing at jokes, innuendo and other stupid things like that. It was good for you. You needed it. Then the phone rang: Mr Parkson. There was a click in your head.

It's been a week. And you haven't even thought about inheritance. What are you going to tell him? To give you an extra week? impossible, he had told you: a week no more. He warned you that he'll be here in an hour to talk. Then he greeted you before hanging up and when Melina saw your face restless, her smile disappeared. No choice... you’re going to have to tell her, too.

“Somethings wrong?” she asks worried.

“It was Mr Parkson. He'll be here in an hour.”

“Your Banker? It must be important for him to come to your house.”

“Well...He’s not my banker.” you answered by going back to sit down.

You tell her everything in detail. The death of your parents, the fact that you are the only heiress, that you've pushed back, all this time, that fateful moment because you're still struggling to accept this... Melina had listened without saying anything, going from attention to emotion, very sad to know the reason why, you have family photos everywhere at home.

“Well...you lie. But that is clearly understandable. No one wants to tell that kind of thing. We would like to forget it or that it never happened. We always hope that it was a nightmare and that when we wake up, we see our loved ones or call them. But deep down... we know very well that it’s real. And so, this guy... is there to carry out their last will. But you're the only one? no other family member can touch it?” she said confused.

“No. I’m the only Heiress. But my uncles and aunts deserve their shares too. My parents bequeath their house to me, and the total of their life insurance. As well as a small pecul that they had set aside. And the jewels. But I don't want it. It would hurt me too much.” you respond sadly.

“I understand. But you should take it. And then give it to your uncles and aunts. Or ask him if he can do it. “

“Yeah...you’re right.”

Melina changed the subject to make you smile, cheer you up. She's so adorable. She's the perfect best friend for you. And yet, you only know each other recently. After an hour, Mr. Parkson knocked on your door. You don't even wonder how he knew your address, he said it to you: when he has to find someone, he's looking for information. He greeted Melina and you explain to him that she knows about it and that so she can stay. He nodded and settled down to a chair coming out of his little briefcase the documents. you offered him a coffee which he accepted as well as a coffee for you and Melina.

“Right. I don't think I need to remind you why I'm here. I left you another week to think. Now I'm going to need an answer: yes, or no?” He said placing his glasses on his nose.

“Yes. But I want to be clear: my uncles and aunts inherit on the one hand. Everything I want to keep from my parents... are their wedding rings. Plus, my mother's amethyst. Everything else, the house the money and everything else will go to my uncles and aunts. Do you understand that?”

“...As you wish. But your parent’s life insurance goes obligatory to you. It will be paid into your bank account automatically. It will be up to you to withdraw the money and give it away or send it to your uncles and aunts if you wish. As for the rings... I've got them here.” He replied before taking out a small jewellery pouch where your parents' wedding rings and your mother's rings were.

“I knew your parents well. They were great people and very good friends. They wanted you to give their wedding rings for your wedding day... and your mother absolutely wanted you to give her jewels. The amethysts is there, too. If you'd rather keep only this one and give the rest to your family, I will." He said a little smile on his face.

“Thanks a lot Mr... I appreciate it. Have... Have we found the murderer? Or at least, did we find clues to know his identity?” you ask.

“Unfortunately, not miss. He vanished. And he may even be dead by now. I am afraid that unfortunately we never know the answer to this terrible question.” he responds.

You sign the documents, to which he adds notes on your exchange, then got up, greeted you and Melina before leaving. He left you a copy of the documents and, as requested the desired rings. Then it was Melina's turn to leave after 2 hours of discussions to cheer you up. Again. She left you her phone number and you gave her yours, so you could communicate.

You clean the table, do the dishes and sit on the couch, the rings on the coffee table. You take them gently in your hands, tears rising slightly in your eyes. From the beginning, they intended to give them to you on your wedding day... Day they will never attend now. the rest of the day was sullen. In the evening even more. All you wanted was for Jed to be there, to hug you right now. But the poor man already has a lot of work, it's better to let him rest for now.

He sent you a message to find out if everything was okay, and you answer him by lying so he wouldn't worry. The poor man replied that he had a lot of work to do between the two Ghostface murders, but with a little coffee, he was going to make it. He wished you good night hoping to see you again soon, and you did the same. You put your phone on the table before looking at the rings again, no longer holding back your tears. They hadn't done anything...

“Well, if I knew I would have brought a handkerchief. Unless you prefer a hug? I'm very good at comforting people you know... especially women.”

You look towards Ghostface which was leaning on the table making you this little hand sign so special of the character. he's the last person in the world you want to see right now.

“Are you really going to come to my house every night? You have no better thing to do like killing poor innocent people like the sick you are? Or am I doomed to support you for the rest of my life as you told me so well?” You said a little grumpy.

“But it's that we're a little cranky tonight... my poor darling, I sympathize with your sorrow.” he said, approaching you.

“You? have compassion??? You kill innocent people who have asked for nothing and you DARE to say that you have compassion for me???”

“hey calm down my angel. I’m maybe a psycho to you but I'm still a human. I know what it's like to lose those you love. Especially when they are killed without them being asked for anything. In those moments when you have the murderer in front of you, you want only one thing: to make him regret. But back to us. I see you've made your choice quickly. I wonder if he enjoyed your lips as much as I loved them. Definitely I think I would never understand women.”

“What does that have to do with you? I much prefer Jed than you!”

“Sweety; sweety, sweety... You don't realize how lucky you are. I keep you alive because I have a soft spot for you. I could have killed you, gutted you, dismembered you, made you the most beautiful of all my masterpieces.” He lay you down on the couch, blocking your arms and legs with all his weight, and through his mask, you can guess a demonic, unhealthy smile. He drew his face closer to yours, very close to your ear. “Compared to him, I can take you beyond the seventh heaven... You'd be happy every night.”

He freed one of his arms, holding yours with the remaining arm to raise his mask slightly at the level of the mouth. Then he lifted your t-shirt stripping you to the chest. Then he lowered his head to your belly button and threw a tongue at it. Little by little, he went up his tongue to your chest. He smiled as he felt your skin shivering at his touch, while you're holding out a single sound. With his free hand, he unbuttoned your jeans, just enough for his hand to attack your privacy. You bite your lips, holding you to moan at all costs. Don't give him what he wants. Or he'll benefit even more.

“Are you resisting? How cute. I like it even more. I don't like easy women. There is no pleasure.” He replied, pressing his finger against the sensitive point, causing you to startle a little.

He chuckled, passing his finger up and down on your intimacy, which eventually made you let go of a little moan. He continued for a few minutes before stopping and getting up, hiding the bottom of his face again, allowing you to get dressed. he recoiled, sneering, while you stare at him, ashamed and angry.

“I'm going to make you languish a little. That'll be your punishment. maybe it'll make you think. or maybe not. But in any case, I'm going to enjoy it. Remember that you belong to me. On this... I wish you good night my sweet little star. Sweet dreams.”

Then he vanished like usual. you sighed, slightly annoyed by what had just happened. He's strong, very strong even. But at least you know he's lost people in his life. At least that is what he suggested. If that happens, it had nothing to do with him. But keep that in mind. That's a good clue. In the meantime, it's time for you to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, and you need all the rest you need.

Sleep well...

Little one.

***

(And that’s it! I'm not too far from being able to pass my code exam! but I confess that driving does not enchant me too XD but hey it's always like that at first, right? If you have any questions, feel free! Oh, one last thing! I wouldn't normally be present from April 6 to 8. So, the current chapter at that time will come out a little later than expected! this will also be the case on April 16, 17 and 18! I apologize in advance I would do my best to advance them as far as possible! Good weekend everyone! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by deadlight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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fereldenturnip · 4 years

Text

But Don’t You Ever Let Me Go (2)

Primo Nizzuto/Majid Zamari Sugar Daddy Fic

Part 2/ ?

(Part 1)

[nsfw towards the end]

Majid spends most of his days trying his hand at an honorable job. 'Try' being the operative word. He's never had the head for dull drudge work, giving up his warehouse position in Utrecht before he ever got started. It's boring. Routine is shit-boring. He’s already burnt out on three separate jobs so far.

Currently, he’s an auto-repair mechanic trawling through motor oil and brake fluid. It’s exhausting and frustrating, sweating through his overalls and busting his fingers. He absolutely hates it when some rich-prick comes swaggering in, throwing the keys of some hot rod in his face like he’s a robot and not a person. Swallowing the all-consuming rage gets harder with each asshole.

These trust-fund babies always want the same thing, “Fix it by noon!” with not even thirty minutes to spare assessing what component they broke to make it sound like shit. Majid always manages to get the cars purring again, and he’s half-tempted to just steal one and ride off into the sunset like he used to. The dumb-struck look on Pastel Polo Shirt Paolo’s face when he returns to an empty shop is one of Majid’s fondest daydreams.

No. Instead he fixes the damn car, hands over the keys, and lets jock twits rev dust in his face.

To make matters worse, he goes home to a dank and miserable, overpriced flat above a busy deli. Unwinding is next to impossible when your floors reek of salami. At night, Majid listens to his neighbors pound away at each other. The luck of others only underscores his own nonexistent sex life. It’s been almost a year and he hasn’t gotten laid since his trysts with Tessa. Lying on his bed that doubles as a couch, Majid glares at the ceiling when the telltale thumping begins. There isn’t even a television to block out the noise or silence his depressing memories. Majid suffers the entire night, sometimes with half a stiffy that no amount of palming will relieve.

Just when Majid’s day (his week, his month, his life) spirals out of control and he wants nothing more than to throw himself into the Tiber, Primo returns to whisk him away. Cheerful and unrepentantly persistent as expected.

It's as if the older man is psychic--either that or he actually does have informants all over the city. He rolls up in a sleek Mercedes, his driver popping out to open the door obediently. From the dark interior Primo’s elegant hand uncurls, beckoning him forth. Into the lion’s den.

And every time, Majid lets himself be coddled into the back seat. If this is a dance then he’s clearly not the lead. Does he mind? Glancing back at the auto shop, he’s hard-pressed finding a reason to say no.

Majid sinks into the warm leather seats and only mildly feels self-conscious as he clashes with his luxurious surroundings. Primo never disparages his workman’s clothes or the grease in his cuticles. He passes Majid an ice-cold water from the built-in fridge, unperturbed by the possibility of soiling his fine outfit. It’s just the opposite--Primo is ecstatic to be in Majid’s company again and again.

They’re chauffeured around, chatting and laughing amiably (and wow, Majid never believed he’d laugh again, not after what he’s been through), searching for a meal befitting the hour. Fancy, decadent, expensive. Breakfast, brunch, lunch, and dinner. Sometimes a combination of several depending on Primo’s schedule. And that’s a loose term.

Of course, there are events and fundraisers, meetings and phone calls Primo must attend to. Primo also owns half of Italy. The rules he operates by are malleable to suit his whimsy and if he wants to play hookie with Majid, there’s no one around to tell him no.

No one can stop Primo, not even the devil himself. It’s unwise, every time Majid hops in Primo’s car and feels his stomach automatically growl rather than churn. Who is Majid, a deadbeat thief with anger issues, to the Don of Calabria? One wrong move, one dumb mistake, and Primo can have him sleeping in the Tiber with whomever else is lying there too.

++++

“Ach,” Primo grimaces, “The Netherlands? I could never go there. It’s too cold!” He laughs though, warm and toothy, pouring more sparkling water into their glasses. The Mercedes makes another loop around the Colosseum, the tinted windows colouring the ancient stone in shades of blue and grey. The driver is a consummate professional, the ride is smooth and untroubled. Nevertheless, Primo curls in towards Majid to keep the drinks from spilling.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Majid smiles and clinks the crystal together. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t born there.”

Primo makes a noise of interest and gestures for him to continue. It would be so easy to forget who this man really is. Primo slouches comfortably in Majid’s presence, his blazer and tie removed, collar unbuttoned to reveal skin. He’s human underneath. It relaxes Majid enough to spill details of his childhood spent in the Moroccan sun. To his credit, Primo listens attentively, chin in hand as he rests on the centre console.

Unsurprisingly, Majid’s nostalgic and full of homesickness by the time he finishes detailing his family’s migration.

“Thank you for telling me,” Primo nods his head seriously, as if Majid’s words are an important gift worth all the gravitas in the world. Stunned, Majid actually believes he’ll cherish them.

“What about you?” Quid pro quo, right? Intimacy for intimacy.

Primo tilts his head and peers coyly at him through his eyelashes, “What about me?”

Majid is curious. Living in Rome is like living in a soap opera; Majid has heard a wide gamut of rumors, from the comedic to the tragic.

Some say Primo assassinated his uncle to do it, hid in the trunk of a car under the cloak of darkness and blew the old man’s brains out. Others scoff, they’re quick to point out how his uncle was nothing more than a destitute goat farmer and what could killing him possibly achieve? No, clearly Primo kidnapped some millionaire’s kid, burnt him alive on the beach and ran away with the ransom money.

When Majid asks, which is it? Primo smiles and weaves a story about a young man whose ideas were just too big for his small town to contain. How he longed for more until finally the Italian government benevolently loaned the young entrepreneur enough money to build his empire from the ground up. It sounds realistic. It’s also just another story and Majid is no where closer to the truth than he was before.

He huffs, unsatisfied.

Sitting on Primo’s left, Majid is close enough to feel the heat rolling off him and smell his musky cologne. Primo turns suddenly and that’s when Majid realises he’s drifted too close into the other man’s orbit. He can spot gold flecks in Primo’s irises, faint laugh lines on his cheeks, and sun-induced freckles over his nose.

Majid freezes like a deer caught in a rifle’s scope. A finger grazes his knuckles and he shivers from the soft touch. Primo’s desire is spelled out loud and clear, yet he makes no move to act on his impulses.

The car rolls up to the curb outside his flat. The parking brake shifts and whatever’s going on in this moment between them dissipates. Majid darts away, totally missing the narrowed eyes and minute smirk.

Primo, courteous as usual, professes, “I enjoyed spending my afternoon with you, Majid.”

Majid’s hand clasps the door handle--passerbys must think it strange seeing such an elegant car in this seedy neighborhood. Already halfway outside, Majid isn’t thinking clearly when he replies, “Me too.” Immediately, Primo preens. He could shudder from the liquid warmth swimming in Primo’s alluring gaze.

“Just tell me one thing,” Majid says, plucking the courage to stay a minute longer. “What’s the truth?” For a moment he thinks he’s confused the older man, either that or inserted his foot into his mouth.

But Primo’s mind is sharp, always several moves ahead. He knows exactly what Majid means.

“It was all that and more.”

That’s…not an answer. It’s grandiose and enigmatic (vague and frustrating) and perfectly sums Primo up. The bastard knows this and has the audacity to grin while he shooing Majid out.

“Until next time,” Primo asserts, stroking his greying goatee. He finishes with a soft declaration, “my boy.”

++++

The long-anticipated ‘other shoe’ drops while Majid is standing alone in his barren kitchenette and wistfully wishing he’d accepted Primo’s invitation to dinner. It’s a devastating epiphany, a slip-up he catches way too late. He finally sees the intricate spider’s web the Don has woven, and Majid went and entangled himself in lines, enticed with food and stories. Primo has done a good job sinking his claws into Majid without him even questioning it.

Midnight arrives. Rest doesn’t.

Majid rolls around in his bedsheets, unable to catch a break from the set of green eyes plaguing his erratic thoughts. Sleep is just right around the corner waving at him, Majid can almost taste it. His eyelids droop and that’s exactly when the horny couple’s headboard begins it’s nightly clacking ritual. Majid screams his anguish into his pillow. Of course! He’s fate’s favourite punching bag!

As usual, his cock weakly hardens--Pavlov to the rutting behind thin walls. Pathetically, he rubs his face and sniffs. Then sniffs again, deeper this time.

Somehow, spending hours with the Don has Primo’s aromatic cologne--notes of amber, tobacco, and rum--clinging to his skin and clothes. Majid considers showering himself clean. It would be the responsible thing to do, right? His cock twitches.

Wrong.

Majid wants to be irresponsible, rash, foolhardy. Recklessness conjures up a low-lit room filled with cigar smoke. Impulsiveness takes shape in the form of Primo Nizzuto stalking him from across the room, eyes steel-grey as he looms and strokes up Majid’s arm.

“My boy,” Primo growls in a low octave that sparks a flame in Majid’s guts. Heat pools in his hips and straight away he’s tugging his aching erection out of his briefs. His white cotton t-shirt gets rucked up and over his nose so Majid can inhale lungfuls of that intoxicating scent. The neighbors’ mediocre fucking gives way to Primo rasping in his ear--my boy, my boy--sultry as smoke curling around his head. Majid moans, touching himself with both hands, one twisting his throbbing wet head and the other cupping his balls. He frantically strips his length, feet planted wide and flat so he can hump into his fists. My boy...

When he comes, Majid nearly chokes on the shirt wadded in his mouth. His orgasm rips through him like a runaway train flying off the tracks. Globs of sticky come coat his hands, his abs, his shaking thighs. Everything’s a soaking mess. Shirt digging into his armpits and underwear around his ankles, Majid really ought to clean up. Unfortunately, his exhausted, empty body is too busy floating high from the rush of endorphins.

It’s so damn easy to slip into sleep after that.

#my fic #trust fx #wolf 2013 #Trust the Wolf #primo x majid #primo nizzuto #majid zamari #But don't you ever let me go

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tanadrin · 4 years

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Notes on some Rare Economic Systems (That Do Not Work)

A little more than two hundred years ago, the state of Kezaria was rapidly changing, but straining against a patchwork of antiquated laws supported by a corrupt government. The Kezarian parliament was filled with representatives of rotten boroughs, its aristocracy refused to endorse any kind of political reform, and its population was moving from the countryside to the cities as enclosures on the one hand and the growth of the urban economy on the other conspired to convert the country from an agrarian economy to an industrial one. Eventually, protests broke out which threatened to become a real revolution. Terrified of the consequences of such a revolution, the State Council of Kezaria forced through a series of reforms that included, among its provisions, a regular cash disbursement for the relief of the poor. As all this happened before Speenhamland, a prejudice against such a program had not yet been established in Kezaria, and the State Council was desperate for anything that would keep the government from being overthrown.

Incidentally, it worked, and though initially considered a minor provision, direct poverty relief became a cornerstone of Kezarian government. As the country moved further in a socialist direction–now through gradual reform aided by democracy, rather than revolution or the threat of revolution–this provision was expanded, and eventually enshrined in the Kezarian constitution. But some thinkers still considered the economic system fundamentally unjust; redistribution, they said, was not enough. It was still possible that wealth should be unequally amassed, that the resources of each citizen should be too different in magnitude, and therefore some would have unelected power over their fellows; and a state that was a democracy worthy of the name should make all its citizens equal in matters of money as well as law. And so in due course, all income *outside of* the Kezarian basic income was banned.

This is the Kezarian system as it stands today: each month, an account in every citizen’s name is reset to 2,000 Kezarian lions–although the lion no longer functions as a true currency, the name is retained for the sake of historical continuity. The lion may be spent, but not accumulated: an excess of lions, as well as a dearth, is wiped out at the end of each calendar month. As accounts may be held only by natural persons, no business has a single swan (the Kezarian cent) to its name, except what its managers and executives might pool of their common monthly resources. Transaction taxes are very high–as much as 20 or 30 percent of any purchase–in order to keep the lion in circulation, but nobody much minds, as they are not really losing any money in the long run.

The inconvertibility of the lion means that, naturally, tourism is nearly nonexistent in Kezaria, and all imports must be purchased by the state and imported using its foreign currency reserves. But the Kezarians seem content with their system, for they can look around at their neighbors and friends and politicians–all the people who *really* matter, after all–and be confident that no one is doing much better, or much worse, than them.

Miskando is perhaps unique in the world for being a modern, industrialized, and prosperous gift economy.

Miskando has few laws, not because its people are of an especially libertarian bent, but because informal rules in Miskandese culture to an unusual degree. Whereas the British have no need of a written constitution, because convention governs their parliament so strictly, the Miskandese have little need of written laws, because contravening the rules of polite society is unthinkable. Such behavior puts one in the same category as a child, imbecile, or foreigner; and if you truly do not know how to behave in a given situation, well, Miskandese bookshops do a brisk trade in manuals of etiquette, and the most popular section of the newspapers is invariably the one given over entirely to advice columns.

The commercial storefront in Miskando is in fact an evolution of the private home; as such, there isn’t a strict distinction between “house” and “shop,” and one observes the niceties of calling on a friend or acquaintance when one enters a shop, even if the proprietor is totally unknown to them. If you need something–a new hat, perhaps, or a week’s worth of groceries–the custom is that you wander into a shop and look about for a little while. The shopkeeper or the clerk will ask you if they can help; you must refuse at least once. When they insist (as they invariably will), you will begrudingly admit that there are one or two things you might want, and after a little back-and-forth and some polite chit-chat about the weather, you will gather the items on your list, enquire after your interlocutor’s health and the health of their children, and then depart.

The provision of services, even complex ongoing services, is furnished in much the same way. A bilateral relationship must be carefully cultivated between members of two different firms; as a rule, favors are exchanged, rather than contracts being made, and are never quite repaid fully: to do so would be to formally disobligate someone, and thus to end your relationship with them. This is seen as a terrible snub when it occurs between individuals, and when it occurs between businesses is usually due to one party incurring the other’s greatest displeasure

.Outsiders attempting to do business in Miskando have generally found the process bewildering, even those from politeness-heavy societies. The Miskandese, for their part, have adapted fairly well to commerce with other nations; after all, if they have need of hard currency, they usually have a friend who owes them a favor that they can ask.

In Gharat, all money is in the form of immense bronze pillars.

Long ago, it is said, the people of Gharat exchanged certain standardized, useful goods, like knives or wool cloth, whose value was widely agreed upon. These eventually gave way to the ancient Gharat knife-currency, a chunk of bronze of a fixed weight whose resemblance to the older medium of exchange was only passing. The real value was in the metal itself; and because of its weight, large amounts of these heavy pieces were often bound together to prevent theft.

One day, a thoughtful merchant had the bright idea of simply melting all his bronze into one enormous mass, which he could simply leave outside his house–after all, it was impossible to steal. Many others began to follow suit, and some began to craft the displays of their wealth into more elaborate shapes, and eventually, the tradition of the bronze pillar currency was enshrined. It didn’t matter that it couldn’t be transported; after all, the metal wasn’t *used* for anything anymore–the Gharati had by this time moved on to iron tools. And (so the Gharati held) assiduous recordkeeping meant that it was always widely known who owned what pillar, even if the pillar in question happened to be three provinces over.

The centralization of the Gharati nation in the 18th and 19th century and the codification of Gharati customary law necessitated the establishment of a centralized record of ownership of the pillars; and it was eventually discovered, to the horror of the nation’s leaders, that the records of ownership were, in fact, a contradictory mess. They *could*, perhaps, be sorted out, and the spurious claims distinguished from the genuine ones, but to do so would be to devastate the wealth of the nation: multiple ownership of the same pillars more than quintupled the country’s GDP, with some particularly contested pillars being owned by as many as fifty people. Perhaps they could keep the situation a secret; but if word ever got out, they feared, there would be chaos and riots as a result.

The solution came from Gharati religious law, which had always been rather more concerned with metaphysical matters over practical ones. One object, the scriptures said, might really be two, depending on how you look at it; so the Gharati lawmakers simply proclaimed all claims of ownership that had existed on a certain date, a few years previous, to be valid; and any *appearance* that one pillar might be owned by more than one person was, in fact, an illusion of the material world. Really, these were multiple pillars that happened to be superimposed on one another. They might *literally* be made of the same particles of metal, but they were *conceptually* distinct. There was some grumbling when this was announced–but no one wanted to risk losing the lion’s share of their net worth overnight, so it was quickly accepted.

Yet despite proposals, the Gharati have never made the shift entirely to a pillar-backed paper currency, or to a fiat currency entirely. After all, they say, money ought to be something *real.* A bronze pillar has mass and heft; and thus, it is possible to imagine, it had real value. To abolish the system entirely would simply turn the idea of money into a farce.

Clasimarion is, its inhabitants say, the most perfect place of liberty to have ever existed–even if they are all slaves.

The island of Usvasaari was settled by Tiravec peoples from the south, who founded the city; Clasimarion was a prosperous trade republic in its middle years, but declined as the mercantile empires around it grew, and its once-vaunted navy was unable to secure its trading rights by force. When the Third Bull Government was overthrown, a new order was proclaimed. The constitution consisted of a single line: “The forceful interference with an individual or their property may be met with force.” The state was abolished; henceforth the Clasmain common law of property was supreme.

Despite the cynicism of foreign observes, Clasimarion did *not* immediately collapse into anarchy. No warlord rose to power, no neighboring state invaded, and, for a little while, life continued much as it had before, without the burden of taxes or unnecessary bureaucracy. The former merchant-lords of the city managed their holdings without outside interference now, and any petty squabbles that might result in violence between their private mercenary corps did not interfere with life in the rest of the city.

This state lasted about thirty years. One day, a certain Orsil San, the last of an old Clasmain family now living abroad, discovered that according to ancient Clasmain law, his quintuple-great-grandmother had at one time owned all of the northern peninsula of Usvasaari, the very land on which Clasimarion was built. What had been thought freehold title, converted to allodial title at the time of the revolution, was in fact only on an indefinite lease to the government; and, the deed said, should the institutions of that government be dissolved, “all land, chattels, movable and immovable goods, and any other right of property within that domain, not held by persons outside it, shall revert to the San family."

This meant that all Clasimarion was the property of one man. And worse: because Clasmain common law had never abolished the condition of slavery (though it had been centuries since it had been practiced), and that slaves could not own property, all of the *inhabitants* of Clasimarion were his property as well, to dispose of, with absolute rights, as he wished.

And Orsil San did wish. He sold the deed to an overseas company, a fortune-cookie company called Voystaykan & Son, and retired to a dissolute life that ended when he fell off his yacht and drowned. Voystaykan sent a delegation to Clasimarion, contracts in hand, and all of the most eminent jurists of the city agreed with doleful solemnity: Orsil San had the right, and the contracts were valid. To rebel, to attempt to rescind the contract, to appoint a parliament or king to change the law, would be an intolerable violation of the constitution, an affront to the most deeply held principles of liberty. The entire city submitted without a fight, and became the property of the newly-rebranded Voystaykan Company.

The Company is not cruel. It knows that morale is important to get the most out of its property. The people labor by day, singing their work-songs and shanties, and they retire in the evening to adequate meals within their barracks. They have their games and celebrations. Life in Clasimarion is well-ordered, and peaceful. But the will of the city’s managers is an iron law. The CEO of the Company, like a distant god. The company’s property may supplicate before it; they may beg and plead and weep, but the law of that country is clear: they are objects of another’s rights, not agents of their own. They may hope, and they may dream; but their labor does not cease, and their fate is not their own to determine. And they may gaze out over the cold waters that surround Usvasaari, but they cannot leave. For what would they be then, but thieves stealing themselves away? To do so would mean that they despise that most important right of all, the right to property. It would mean that they hate justice and law and liberty above all. And whatever else it may be, Clasimarion is free.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Our Sunrise

Vince x Tanya (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: None

Genre: Romance

Summary: Homes - to some a place of safety, security, warmth and love; to others they pose as the source of their dread. They are suffocating with each day spent within the house’s walls, surrounded by family they can barely stand. In those cases, there’s really only one option to turn to.

Requested: No

It was her idea. She wanted this. He saw the tears in her eyes though, something in her couldn’t bare the thought of leaving her family behind after all. Blood is thicker than water, as they say. But the thought is troubling him, refusing to leave his mind.

“If you could just agree...we wouldn’t still be here, Vince“

Her words rang throughout his head, refusing to let him get any shuteye.

“There will never be a right moment if you keep thinking about it. Just decide a moment and it will be the right one.“

She’s always had a way of getting under his skin - a look, a smile and he would be hooked. What she does to him can only be described as witchcraft. She’s got him under her spell, and he’s not too keen on breaking free from it.

“Every couple has its sunrise and sunset“ She told him once “The joy of the first big step and the joy of its aftermath.“

He didn’t think much of it - he has become to her mind being overtaken by the books of poetry she reads, it’s nothing new - but for some reason that one quote stuck with him. It bugged him later that night, a part of him refusing to let it go. A small flame of wanting lit inside him - the wanting of that first bid step, the sunrise. He knew what she had meant by that...

If he’s being honest with himself, staying in Little Hope isn’t an appealing future for him. Never was. It’s the last and least desired outcome. He has been making plans to leave and make something of himself since he was in his early teenage years. He never saw how he could become something more here, in this small, suffocating town.

He never thought he’d leave before saving up a good amount of money yet here he is now, behind the wheel of his car, his belongings stuffed in suitcases in the trunk on his way to pick up the love of his life from her home so they could count the last seconds of being in this town together. Meanwhile, neither of them have much to rely on - not money, not connections. They’ll only have each other.

That is, of course, if she goes through with the plan she initiated. She planted the seed of the intrusive thought in his mind.

Running away.

It wasn’t even an option prior to her mentioning it. He wasn’t that desperate to leave. Not that he’d be running away from anything or anyone - he doesn’t have anything or anyone. To him it will be rather simple, consider it moving. All he has is going with him anyway. He’s not leaving anything behind, no real family, no memories - the ones that matter are coming along. Such as the first time he met her. Their first official date. The day he met her family. He still chuckles recalling how nervous she had been when it came to him finally meeting her siblings and parents. All those memories are not tied to the place, they are tied to the person - to Tanya, the only element of importance in his life.

* * *

A knock sounds from her window, a faint one, not one that’d be caused by a human’s hand tapping the glass. That’d be impossible anyway, her room is on the second floor of the Clarke house. A sound so faint, it would’ve gone by unnoticed by her if she wasn’t so focused on trying to clear her head. She had spent a long enough period of the late hours swimming in the depths of her troubling thoughts, questioning if any of them were concrete or if they belonged to her at all.

Another knock. Now she can decipher it to be a pebble hitting the glass probably as an attempt to attract her attention. She bites the bait and kicks the covers off, exposing herself to the cold - the pajamas not providing her any warmth whatsoever. She makes her way to the window, hesitantly peering outside without moving the curtains that are thin enough to allow her a peek while conserving her privacy. A wave of relief washes over her at the sight of a familiar car parked by the sidewalk and the figure of her boyfriend standing below her window. Her face lights up with a smile as she pushes the curtains aside and opens the window.

“Good evening.“ He greets her formally, taking a small bow

“A lot better now.“ She replies, resting her elbows on the windowsill, “It’s 2 AM you know?“

His eyes widen with fake shock, “Wait, what? Really? No way!“ Despite their voice being hushed whispers, due to the deafening silence around them, the words are transmitted easily and understandably.

Tanya rolls her eyes playfully, “To the point, please.”

Vince chuckles, motioning to his car that’s parked a further ways down the road from where he usually parks. “You said there’d never be a right moment until I chose one and made it right. So, I did. And don’t tell me I packed my stuff for nothing.”

She is stunned, unable to speak or do anything except look at him for a few moments, contemplating how to react. She’s torn between believing him and the thought of it being a ruse. She doesn’t want to fall for it if it’s the latter.

“Quit messing with me, Vince. Why are you really here?“ She finally settles on saying something along the annoyed lines, hiding the pang of adrenalin that has hit her at the thought of him being serious.

He stands his ground, the smirk still playing at his lips, “I know better thank to joke about something so serious, Tanya. Question is...” he raises an eyebrow at her, “...are you still serious about it?”

Holy shit, he means it. He’s serious.

We’re leaving this hellhole. We’re never coming back. There’ll be a sunrise for us after all.

A sunrise - she never realized how much she wanted one until now that she’s so close to having it. The first big decision: leaving Little Hope.

“Are you gonna pack or are you gonna give me a return ticket?“ Vince’s voice snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts of joy and excitement, reminding her that her future depends on what she’s about to say next. She can go through with it or chicken out. She can’t even see the second as an option.

“Give me fifteen minutes.“ She says, for a moment forgetting to keep her voice down, “Don’t change your mind in the meantime!“ she warns him with a serious frown.

He raises his hands in the air as if surrendering and nods, giving her the closure she needs to step away from the window and get to the task of sweeping all her belongings of importance in a suitcase. Clothes, money, toiletries, etc. She moves around the room, going from the wardrobe to the dresser than to the desks where she stops when her hand automatically reaches for a picture of her and Megan she has next to her reading lamp. She mentally scolds herself for wanting to take all the photos she has with her family - A picture of her, Anthony and Dennis when they were in their pre-teen ages of eight, ten and twelve. A picture of Meghan when she was three, taken soon after she was brought in the family. A picture with Anne on her graduation. And a picture of all of them together - all genuinely happy. She remembers that day well, it sticks out in her memory because of how well behaved everyone was. James was sober. Dennis wasn’t trying to pick fights with her. She was nice to him for a change. This picture was Anthony’s idea of a gift for Anne’s birthday, an idea all siblings happily agreed to.

All these pictures are meaningful to her. She can say whatever she’d like about her family but she knows damn well that they matter to her no matter what they do. But she also knows she’ll love them more at a distance, sticking by them would inevitably make her despise them and she would much rather leave than start hating her own family.

Ignoring the scolding voice telling her not to bring any memories with her, she grabs all the pictures and carefully places them between the clothes in her suitcase to avoid damaging them. She zips it up with a heavy sigh.

It feels insignificant, like she didn’t just back the majority of her life and identity in a suitcase as if she’s not about to leave the rest of it behind, heading into the unknown. She tries not to dwell on that though, forcing herself to stand up and lift the suitcase and get it over with before she talks herself out of it.

Going down the stairs, she repeats to herself she’s doing the right thing for herself. The best thing she could do at the moment. It’s only now that she realizes how hard it is for her to be convinced, but she shakes that thought away.

“Hey.“ She nearly trips on the second to last step when she hears a voice. Tanya stops dead in her tracks, looking down the dark hallway, straining her eyes to see the most they can with no light source other than the little light seeping in from the outside. She finally manages to catch glimpse of the outline of a head peering at her from the doorway to the living room. Once spotted, the body the head’s attached to emerges from the doorway, stepping out in the hall. It’s Megan.

“Megan, what are you doing up so late?“ She narrows her eyes to see her little sister better in the dark, all the while making hopeless attempts to hide the suitcase behind her.

“Where are you going?“ The eleven-year-old girl ignores Tanya’s question, tilting her head to the side while asking one of her own.

“Nowhere. Now go back to bed.“ She says with the strictest tone she can muster though it sounds more like a plea than an order.

Another silhouette comes through the living room doorway, taking a stand next to Megan. “Then what’s that suitcase for?” It’s Anthony. “Be honest, Tanya.”

Even if she could’ve fooled Megan, there’s no way she could lie to Anthony. She’s the closest with him, after all. And she doesn’t know this, but he always had a sneaking suspicion she’d leave. He always knew he’d be helping her pack her bags too. He wants her to be happy and he’s certain she’d do the same for him, knowing it’s what would bring him joy in life.

“I saw Vince outside.“ Anthony takes a step forward, encouraging her to take one as well, “Well, Megan did and she woke me up.”

“I’m sorry...” Tanya mumbles automatically, not really sure what she’s apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Anthony tells her reassuringly, “It’s what’s best for you. Just....call often, ok?”

Her heart sinks a tiny bit under the weight of his words, tears pricking her eyes. She blinks them away though. “Ok, yeah. I will, I promise.“ She puts the suitcase down pulling her brother in a tight embrace which he returns. Pulling away, she feels arms wrapping around her hips. A look down confirms that it’s Megan. She’s not the hugger type, so this is quite odd, but sweet nonetheless.

Tanya kneels down, giving Megan a proper hug. “Do you have to go?” She hears the little girl whisper hesitantly.

Anthony opens his mouth to say something but the older sister gives him a dismissive wave, “Yes, I’m sorry but I do. But I’ll come back.” She pulls away, holding her little sister gently by the shoulders.

“When?“ the girl persists, her gaze unmoving from Tanya’s eyes. She desperately want to look at Anthony for help but she’s aware this is a battle she needs to carry out on her own.

“Soon.“ She settles on saying indecisively, “And when I do I’ll take you with me. Sounds good?“

To Tanya’s relief Megan nods with a small smile, giving her another hug.

“This is a bizarre-ass family gathering.“ The voice comes from behind them, on the staircase, pulling all their gazes in that direction, “And that’s a large-ass suitcase, Tanya.“

The three siblings are left staring at Dennis speechless. None of them dares speak up, uncertain of what they could even say.

Dennis saves them the trouble, “I saw Vince’s car. He hasn’t parked it as subtly as he thinks he has.“ He chuckles, “You’re going somewhere, huh?“ Tanya nods hesitantly, staying wary of his reaction. “For how long?”

Silence again. Luckily for them, that’s all the answer Dennis needs, “I get it. Ok. Um...” He ponders what to say next, going down the two remaining steps, “I’ll miss having someone to argue with...”

Tanya almost sighs in relief, “You have the four other people, you won’t even notice I’m gone.“

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. Um....“ He seems torn, confused and downright baffled with himself. He doesn’t know why he feels so down to see Tanya leave, he just does. So, for once, he acts on instinct and does something really out of character. He opens his arms for a hug. “Come here.“

Although surprised, Tanya’s more than happy to oblige. It’s the first time they’ve hugged. Her heart aches a tiny bit at the thought of it being their last too.

It doesn’t take long for Dennis to go back to being Dennis, “Now get out of my fucking house.”

She pulls away from him, returning his smile before picking up the suitcase and taking bold steps to close the distance between her and the front door. She stops with her hand on the doorknob, debating weather to turn around and say ‘goodbye’. She decides against it, deeming it too...final? Too much like an ending for her liking. This is a chapter left unfinished but not closed. She just needs to open a new one before finishing this one. So no, a ‘goodbye’ isn’t fitting.

She steps out in the chill of the air, feeling it caress her face as her eyes meet Vince’s. With a brisk pace she crosses the space separating them, dropping the suitcase to give him a hug while on the brink of tearing up.

“Goodbyes are tough. I get it.“ He reassures her in a soft voice, his hand gently smoothing her hair.

“There were no goodbyes.“ She sniffs, “Didn’t make it any less tough though.“

Placing the suitcase in the car’s trunk and settling in the passenger seat, next to Vince, feels so natural yet so new at the same time. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of hope promising something better ahead. A brighter future. Vince’s firm hold on her hand just strengthens her eagerness to see what that future looks like.

To see what kind of sunset this sunrise will lead them to.

@artlovingbre @sparrow-gg @megandaisy9 @chairtiger

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ortizobsessed · 4 years

Text

The Best Gift

This one was requested by @xx--day-dreamer--xx!

Reader x Juice where you throw a surprise party for Juice with the help of the club.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1911

Masterlist

Today was the day! It was Juice’s birthday, and everything you’d been planning the last couple weeks was finally going to happen. Though you two weren’t “official” your relationship was definitely flirty, and you wanted to do something special for him to show how much you care.

Many ideas had been tossed around during your discussions with Gemma about just how much Juice should know. “If I pretend to forget his birthday, he’s going to know something is up,” you admitted. “He knows I’m good with dates. I’ve had to remind him to wish some of the other guys a happy birthday before.”

Gemma laughed and shook her head, “Oh that boy...why does that not surprise me?”

Smiling along with her, you two agreed that at least you should acknowledge it was his birthday. That way you would be able to keep him busy during the day while everyone else set things up at the clubhouse.

“It’s really sweet what you’re doing for him. He’s going to love it- and you.” Her words calmed you, while simultaneously making you more nervous.

“Oh gosh, I hope so.” You felt your cheeks flush, and Gemma winked at you knowingly.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was call Juice. You couldn’t wait to start the day! You had planned quite a few things that you knew he would love. Dialing his number, it felt like the phone rang for ages. He answered the call, and it was impossible to miss the excitement in his voice, “Hey! How are you sweetheart?”

Your stomach was full of butterflies at this point, you loved it when he called you that. “It’ll be better once I get to see you, birthday boy!”

You could practically hear his smile through the phone. “Back at you! And thank you!”

You smiled to yourself, and suggested, “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour?”

“I’ll be ready.” You heard him pause, as if he was going to say more, but he stopped himself. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Great, I’ll see you soon!”

Pulling up in front of Juice’s house, he was already waiting for you on the front step. You put your car in park, turned it off, and hopped out. Walking across the lawn, you met him halfway, and reached your arms out to him. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you close and you mumbled against his chest, “Happy Birthday, Juan.”

He hugged you tighter and replied, “Thank you so much, Y/N.”

“Well, we should get going! We’ve got a full day ahead of us!”

The smile on his face made your heart melt.

You two spent the day going from place to place, doing anything you could think of that Juice would love. Everything from breakfast at his favourite café, to a matinee at the movie theatre, and a trip to his favourite electronics store. You knew he had been eyeing up the newest first-person shooter game that was set to come out in a couple days. You had pre-ordered one and gift wrapped it, then convinced the store manage to keep it at the store for Juice. He was more excited than you had expected, thanking you profusely for it.

Watching the time almost religiously, it was getting close to 6:00 and Chibs would be calling any minute. Just then, Juice’s phone rang.

Back at the clubhouse, Jax whistled to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, okay, everyone quiet down! Chibs is going to call Juice now!” The room went silent. It was actually rather impressive just how quiet a room full of people, all with very large personalities, could be.

You could hear Chibs’ accent through the phone. “Hey Juicy Boy, look uh- Clay wants us all in chapel in 30. Needs to discuss something important that came up today. Has to be dealt with soon as possible.”

When Juice hung up the phone, it took everything in you not to give away the fact that you were in on it. “Chibs?” Juice nodded. “What did he want?”

“Looks like we’ll have to push our supper plans back a little bit. Clay called a meeting so I have to head to the clubhouse for a bit.”

“Aww man, I’m sorry. It has to be today?” You hoped he couldn’t hear the slight tremble in your voice.

“It sounded pretty urgent. You know how it is, the club comes first.” His words tugged at your heartstrings, but you knew it was all going to be worth it, so you stuck to your plan.

“I get it. Shouldn’t take too long right? I could just come with you, hang out there for a bit, then we can head for supper as soon as you’re done?”

“Yeah it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and I would like that!”

Trying to play it cool you added, “Perfect! Besides, I’d like to visit with everyone for a bit. I haven’t seen them in a while!”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said as he reached his hand out to you.

You noticed the strangled smile on his face, so as you walked hand in hand towards your car, you asked gently, “Everything okay?”

Hesitating momentarily, he answered honestly, “Yeah- yeah, I’m good. Just a bit of a bummer, I think they forgot about my birthday. But hey, I’m not that great with dates either, huh?”

You laughed softly, and looked up at him, “It’s not your strong suit, no,” making him laugh along with you.

Pulling into the parking lot of the clubhouse, you were pleased to see the parking lot no more busy than usual. You knew Gemma would have made sure everyone understood that they needed to park on the street, or better yet a couple blocks away, so Juice wasn’t tipped off that something was going on.

As you walked towards the clubhouse, you found your hand in his once again. “Sorry this had to interrupt our day, I was having a good time! But thanks for tagging along, I’m glad you’re here.”

You couldn’t hide the smile on your face, but you and Juice had a playful relationship, so you replied slyly, “Actually, I’m really only here to see the other guys.” You shrugged your shoulders and tried your best to suppress a laugh.

Juice gave you a knowing look, but decided to play along. “You know, I had a feeling you were only using me to get close to Tig.”

Unable to hold it in anymore, that full laugh of yours came out. You hated your laugh, but Juice loved it, and he was always so good at bringing it out of you.

“Come on,” you sighed, “Let’s get you into that meeting so we can go for supper sooner.”

Juice held the door open for you, and once inside he looked around curiously. “Where is everyone?”

The excitement was really starting to get to you, and all you could do was hope that he didn’t look you in the eyes, cause you knew that would be the end of it.

“I don’t know-“ you paused for a second to gather yourself, “maybe they’re already at the table waiting for you?”

Juice hummed, “Yeah, maybe.”

He looked over at you, and you were convinced the look on your face had given it all away, but he continued, “Okay well I’ll head in. Be out in a bit!”

Either you were a better actor than you thought, or this boy was totally oblivious; your money was on the latter. Whatever the reason, you were glad you hadn’t spoiled the surprise this close to the payoff.

You didn’t think it was possible for so many people to pile into that tiny room, but somehow they made it work. As Juice opened the big doors, you made sure to be within a few steps. In no time at all, the lights were being flipped on and everyone yelled, “SURPRISE!!”

The look on Juice’s face took your breath away. It was a better reaction than you ever could have hoped for. All you wanted was for this loyal, self-less and caring man to know that people needed him, too. You were more than confident you had accomplished that.

Lyla and Opie’s kids were right at the front, noise makers in hand. Tig and Happy has insisted on confetti, so they were standing on either side of the door, throwing the tiny pieces of paper they hand-cut themselves, at Juice.

As Juice did his best to take it all in, you could see tears welling in his eyes. He looked over at you and asked lovingly, “Did you do all this?” Words escaped you, so you simply nodded, and tried your best to fight back tears of your own.

Juice motioned for you to come closer, so you took a few steps towards him and he reached out to you. Placing his arm around your shoulder, you leaned into his side and slid your hand around his back.

Everyone started filtering out bit by bit, each stopping to wish Juice a Happy Birthday. Jax and Tara were the last ones to leave the room, giving each of you a hug on their way out.

Juice breathed in deep and stared at the floor for a second, before looking up at you. “Wow,” was all he found himself able to say.

“So...I hope you like surprises,” you teased, making him laugh.

Moving his arm from around your shoulder, he kicked the doorstop out from under one of the doors that someone had propped open. You took the hint and stepped into the meeting room.

You two were alone once again.

“You know, I was pretty excited to go out for supper with you,” he confessed, a hint of humour in his voice. “Lying to me about food is a tough one to recover from.”

You laughed and asked, “How ever will I be able to repay you?”

Staring up at Juice, you could tell the gears in his mind were turning. As if ignoring everything inside him that said it might be a bad idea, he placed his hands on either side of your face and gazed into your eyes lovingly. “I think I have an idea.”

Your hands found their way to his waist, pulling him closer, and the soft smile you gave him was all he needed.

He leaned in, kissing you tenderly.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it was full of passion, desire, and relief; finally.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you two looked at each other for a short period of time before you broke the silence. “So- this morning- on the phone-” Juice gave you a puzzled look. “As we were saying goodbye- I don’t know- maybe it’s all in my head... I just- I thought maybe you were going to say something else. Were you?”

He hesitated, then smiled. “Honestly?” Laughing softly, he confessed, “I was- uhh- I was going to say- I love you.” Your eyes grew wide, and a huge smile spread across your face. He added, “I want you to be my Old Lady.”

You responded playfully with the somewhat cliché, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Kissing him once more, you whispered, “I love you too,” against his lips, and you felt him smile.

“I’m pretty sure this is the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me.”

#the best gift #juice imagine #juice ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy #soa #samcro #redwood original #men of mayhem #theo rossi #fan fiction

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