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thecrystalquill · 1 year

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A/N: TCMOY/NA part 3!!! Read the INTROS!!!! Tell me what you think :)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Series Intro First Years’ Intro Letter

Chapter Three - Knockturn Alley

“How about we get you a treat? A little gift, now that we have everything.” Mr Addams guided (Y/N) along, wandering down another street that looked quite interesting, seeing a sign labelled 'Knockturn Ally'. “Some jewellery perhaps, oh! how about a broom? You can have one of those now that you’re a witch.” He did love to spoil her.

(Y/N) shook her head, looking into various shop windows and over the shoulders of hunched over figures here and there. “I’m not sure about that, besides, we’re not allowed them at school yet. But I’ll get to learn to fly them at some point, might as well see if I like it first.” They wandered a little further down, it was much gloomier there; the buildings were closer together and most shops were quite dark. And it was less crowded too, much nicer than Diagon Ally, she thought. After a while, a display in a shop caught her eye, the girl didn’t see anything in particular that she found interesting, but it seemed like the sort of shop she’d like. “What about here? Can we have a look in there, Father?”

Gomez stopped his walking and made his way back to her, sticking both of his hands in his pockets and reading the name on the window. “Borgin and Burke’s. Yes, I like the sound of that, let’s go then.”

Inside, the shop was dimly lit by a few lights here and there, causing shadows to stretch across the walls and floor from many angles. There were so many strange and unusual objects dotted about, and so (Y/N) decided that this would be a good time to venture about. Her father patted her shoulder as he went to find the owner or an employee to chat with, being the ever so talkative man he was. She investigated every object she passed with a curious eye; dark red curtains that seemed to sway about on their own, a strange wardrobe, a rotting hand mirror decorated with pearls; she could have sworn she saw a silvery movement in its reflection, but she must have just imagined it. She came over to the large fireplace, investigating the little trinkets on the mantle-piece. She then came across two odd sorts of ornaments, each shaped like a hand; she inspected one closer, it reminded her of Thing, except it had more arm left and looked quite rotten and grey. Moving closer, she dragged a nail over the back of one of its bony fingers, flinching slightly as it moved to grab her, then going back to its original position. Smiling lightly, she was about to go find her father when he appeared around a corner. “There you are! I was just talking with Mr Burke and he showed me this magnificent book that I think you might like. Have you seen anything?” He came over to have a look, it appeared that he rather liked this shop as much as his daughter did.

“This ornament here, it’s a little like Thing – it moves, but it’s still just for decoration, this one isn’t quite as… sentient.” She explained and gestured towards the hand.

“Fascinating,” his eyes lit up, then he pulled her along to follow him back, “I’ll have someone pack it up for you then, but come and see this book. I think you might like it.”

They reached the counter where the owner was standing patiently, then recognised the girl and pulled this infamous book from behind the desk. “Here we are. Take a look.”

She did so, pulling it closer to inspect it. It was quite big, about five inches of parchment was piled up inside between the covers. The covers were very nice though, it was a hardback of course, the brownish colour of dark leather bound to wood, and it appeared to have some strange vine-like patterns raised up on it, which were wrapped around the side to seal it. It had a lock too, on each cover’s side, it was shaped like the foot of some kind of bird of prey, with large interlocking talons. And on the front, right in the centre, it had a wrinkly half sphere. Giving it a light poke, (Y/N) almost gasped when it opened up to reveal an abnormally-sized reptilian eye – which looked directly at her. She smiled to her father, who was discussing a necklace in a glass case, tempted to buy it.

“Is it cursed?”

“Oh yes, very cursed I’m afraid, Mr Addams.”

“How lovely – I’ll tell you what, I’ll have that too. My wife will love it.”

After leaving Knockturn Ally, Gomez and (Y/N) went home, having Lurch carry their bags into their home after the long journey. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon and the skies had begun to turn a lovely shade of grey again. Upon stepping inside, she realised that the house was finely decorated. They heard some noise coming from the room at the top of the stairs – the ball room. (Y/N) ran upstairs excitedly, hearing her father’s laugh as he followed. Reaching the entrance, she saw the sheets removed from furniture and decorations being hung, of course, not much was needed to be done being that (Y/N)’s birthday had been held here just days ago. “(Y/N), darling!” Morticia called as she drifted over, greeting the pair. “How was your day? Did you have fun?”

“It was amazing!” The girl beamed, before plunging into the details of their day excitedly. “—And then we went to this book shop, and it had so many books so we got all of the ones I’ll need for school and some others too and—”

Her mother listened intently, holding the smile on her face as (Y/N) rambled on. “Well, I’m glad you both had such a nice time. Now, about the party,” she started, tapping her nails together, “we’ll be having lots of people visiting of course, and there’ll be plenty of food I’m sure. So now, why don’t you go and help Wednesday? She’s just finishing the last of the invitations in her room.”

(Y/N) nodded before grabbing her bags and making her way to her sister’s room; she was excited to show her all of the new things she’d got, particularly the books bought from Borgin and Burke’s. She made her way upstairs, each step creaking loudly under her foot, as well as the old wooden floors nearer to her sister’s room. “Wednesday~” (Y/N) sang, unusually cheerful for an Addams (but she was the perky one, after all), and knocked on the door. Then barged in almost immediately.

“You know, the purpose of knocking is to wait to be welcomed in,” Wednesday droned, shooting a glare to her sister, who pulled up a chair next to the small desk.

“Well I wasn’t waiting to be welcomed,” replied (Y/N) teasingly, leaning over to see the addresses written on the envelopes. Wednesday’s writing was, admittedly, quite impressive; far better than her father’s and definitely better than Pugsley’s. She’d practised her calligraphy skills quite a lot, taking pride in mastering different fonts for different occasions, which inks to use, or how to address people of different statuses. “You almost done yet?”

Wednesday sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, adding the final letter to the pile. “Yes,” she stated, taking out a candle, six sticks of wax, two wax spoons, and a seal with the Addams Family crest. “Red or black?” She asked, holding up the wax sticks – sealing all of these letters by herself would take hours.

Giving a knowing look, (Y/N) nudged her sister in the side (also knowing how much she hated it). “Oh come on, you want the black one anyway.” She said, taking the red wax from her hands and gathering a few letters. “But I’m having the spoon with the leather handle.”

“No…” Wednesday complained, hating to give up her favourite one, but handing it over anyway; both making their way through the letters slowly. It would take anyone else a long time to do so; having to heat the spoons over the candle to melt the wax, pour it out, and stamp it, for each letter, but the two of them did this often and had learnt to do it much faster. Within only an hour they had already gotten through more than half of the pile, all ready to be sent to every friend and family member before the end of the day.

The party would be a large one – far more guests than (Y/N)’s birthday had entertained – their parents were determined to show off and celebrate their eldest child’s acceptance into the wizarding community, and into Hogwarts. By the end of the week, practically everyone they had ever known would be well aware of (Y/N)’s newfound magic; and by the end of August they would all be wine-ing and dining in the Addams’ ballroom, yet again. The family were known among their community as quite the extravagant celebrators, using practically any excuse to invite their peers and dance the night away. An example would be the party they threw for Pugsley when he made his first grenade; many people were invited, and nobody went home until far past midnight. So of course, this news would be more than lionised – after all, being the first witch in the family in just over a century was no little deal.

However, as much as (Y/N) appreciated the acknowledgement and this certain ‘honour’ she had brought back to the family name, she was a little worried about overshadowing her siblings. She was never so comfortable receiving a lot of attention, especially considering how Pugsley loved it so much. But she understood that it seemed appropriate; one last party before she’s off to a mysterious magical boarding school wouldn’t kill her. At least she had time to be with her family before she had to leave – but the thought of doing so erupted feelings of both excitement and dread in the pits of her stomach. After all, she saw her family every single day – she and Wednesday were very close, and she and Pugsley often experimented with explosives together, she would even miss her parents’ public displays of affection – and suddenly not seeing them everyday would be a massive change. And being surrounded by strangers would definitely add to her discomfort – people were not her expertise.

But to make up for her guilt, (Y/N) decided to give something to her (secretly) favourite sibling. “Hey Wednesday,” she said, stamping another letter sealed and sliding it aside, “today at Diagon Alley, I got you something.”

Though Wednesday often wasn’t the best at showing her feelings, (Y/N) could tell that she was surprised; obviously she hadn’t been expecting a gift. She skipped over to the door where her bags had been discarded on entry and raided through some things, until finally, she pulled out an object wrapped in brown paper, then handed it over to her sister. Wednesday opened it cautiously, but quickly, and tore the paper away to reveal an old glass jar filled to the brim with dried leaves and flowers, and a browning label with lovely hand-writing. “’Atropa Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade)’?” The girl read aloud, allowing herself to show the smallest smile.

(Y/N) nodded, glad that her sister appreciated it – though she hardly had a doubt; the two of them collected various chemicals and poisons, and were very proud of their collections, just one of the ways they bonded. “It’s from this apothecary in Italy, apparently they’ve been selling illegal plants there since 1866. We got it from this shop in Knockturn Alley, Shyverwretch’s Venoms and Poisons, I’ll take you there next time if you’d like?”

Wednesday nodded and opened the jar, taking a whiff of its deadly contents before placing it on her shelf with the rest of her collection. “Thank you, (Y/N).” She said as she took her seat.

“Of course, I can’t wait to take you next time,” Replied (Y/N), then patted Wednesday on the shoulder – earning another scowl – and stood up. “Anyway, I need to start planning and packing and what not, wouldn’t want to miss anything out.” She picked up her things and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her, much to her sister’s annoyance.

(Y/N) had a nice view of the coast from her room; their home sat atop a hill just past Whitby Abbey, giving her a perfect view from her bedroom window. She drew back her long violet drapes, letting in the light, only to then find two green eyes staring back at her. “Jinx!” She exclaimed, grabbing the little black kitten and sitting him on her lap, stroking his head affectionately. “You scared me, you little devil,” she cooed, getting a little ‘mew’ in return. The kitten had been a gift for her birthday, a black cat of course, whom - after many votes from several family members - she named Jinxy (a close second was Styx, suggested by Wednesday, after the Damnéd River of Souls). He had silky soft fur and the most brilliant green eyes, and (Y/N) absolutely loved him. “Are you excited to come to Hogwarts with me?” She mumbled into the top of his head as she peppered him with little kisses, “At least I’ll have one familiar face there,” she whispered, pulling him closer as the heavy pit in her stomach grew. She’d never been away from home before, not for so long at least; she was beyond anxious, but she was an Addams, she’d be fine. Surely.

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pansexualpanic11 · 4 months

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Yandere Capricorn

Trigger Warnings: A perverted yandere, Implied homophobia (Stated but no slurs or anything like that), Mental abuse, Non consensual groping on drunk reader, Stalking, Forced intimacy.

Don't say that you don't love him... He'll think you're just playing hard to get

"Another day of rain, haven't we had this all week?" Alice questioned as she placed a hand on her hip. Standing in the safety of a doorframe, the three girls watched as the rain pattered down onto the concrete. [First Name] looked up at the Vanilla Blonde haired woman, her lips twisting into a small smile. Lulu sighed softly and combed a hand through her long blonde locks, watching as a stern breeze rustled the leaves. All the three girls could do was watch the rain, knowing they couldn't exactly go anywhere with the rain being like this. Not when they had to be looking their best for where they needed to be going.

"Maybe we should call a taxi or something?" Lulu questioned as she placed her hands over her lap. Placing her finger under her chin in thought, [First Name] pondered in thought. Her lips twisting into a small smile; it wasn't the worst idea and she knew the Langley sisters had more than enough money. She on the other hand... Wasn't so lucky. She didn't want to feel indebted to the sisters if one of them were to pay for her. She already felt guilty enough as it was whenever they would pay for her lunch; sure they said she didn't have to pay them back, but she didn't want them to feel as though she was taking advantage of them.

Looking over at the girl, Alice sighed and shook her head. "We're paying, [First Name] and don't even try and talk your way out of it." Looking up at the blonde, her lips pulled into a frown. She knew that Alice was trying to be nice, but whenever she talked, she more often than not sounded pissed off. She knew the woman cared though. Ever since she started dating Solomon, a boy from another wealthy and elite school, she had started becoming a nicer and happier person. Ever since she had known her since childhood, Alice had always been someone who was difficult to get along with, due to her brash and sometimes violent personality traits.

"I don't want it to feel as though I'm taking advantage of you both though. You're both so kind to me and I don't think I can ever repay you for how you've treated me so nicely... Ever since childhood." Placing her hands over her lap, Lulu approached the girl and wrapped her arms around her, bringing the [Hair Colour] haired girl's head to rest on her chest. She could feel her cheeks beginning to turn a soft shade of pink as she could hear the soft and steady beating of Lulu's heart. By this point, it was common knowledge to both Alice and [First Name] herself, that she had romantic feelings for Lulu; she just couldn't bring herself to confess.

Lulu was about to say something, when the sudden sound of a horn beeping caught their attention. "That's the taxi, come on, let's go." [First Name] couldn't help but be surprised by how quickly that the taxi had arrived. Shielding their heads, the three girls hurried over to the taxi and climbed inside. With [First Name] climbing in the front and Alice and Lulu climbing in the back. Alice had already put the details into the app of where they needed to go, along with paying for the ride. Their destination wasn't too far away; so [First Name] wondered if she should even start up a conversation with the driver or just remain silent.

The driver was a handsome man, his hair was a soft creamy white colour and his eyes were a beautiful light brownish colour that verged on being gold rather than brown. Looking behind her from the corner of her eye, she could see Alice sorting out Lulu's hair. Ever since they were children, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous, she wished she had a twin sister. "So, you're going to a party?" He questioned. His voice was quite relaxing and sultry as he spoke. Looking over at him, [First Name] couldn't help but smile. Now that he was speaking, he seemed so much more friendlier than the first impression she had gotten off him.

"Ah, yeah, it's my friends' brother's birthday. He's come all the way from England for the event, so that he can spend time with his entire family," she smiled. Alice and Lulu still seemed to be too preoccupied with each other than listening to what the driver was saying; which [First Name] couldn't help but laugh at. They were always so preoccupied with each other; well, more so Alice with Lulu. Ever since they were kids, Alice had been staunchly protective over Lulu and refused to ever really let her leave her sight. Because of this, [First Name] was shocked she had managed to befriend Lulu, let alone the both of them.

"Mmm, explains why you're dressed up so nicely. My name is Yuzuki Shoto by the way; it's nice to meet you," he offered her a small smile. While she offered him one back, she couldn't help but feel dirty as she felt his eyes wander over her body. She watched as he licked lips lips, almost as though he was a predator hunting for its prey. She shifted in her seat and nervously stared down at her lap, her lips pulling themselves into a small frown. It felt all too long before she arrived at their destination and as soon as they did, she quickly got out of the car, uttering a quick 'thank you.' As soon as she reached the safety of the doors, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, what's wrong? You look really upset," Alice questioned. Lulu stood next to her, an equally worried expression plastered across her face. Swallowing nervously, [First Name] couldn't help but look to the side anxiously. She didn't want to blow anything out of proportion, especially when the day was supposed to be about Adam. Besides, what if she was worried about nothing and she had just imagined it? She didn't want to ruin someone's reputation over what could be her own mind playing tricks on her. Sensing her uneasiness, Alice wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and offered her a small smile.

"Hey, you know you can tell us anything, right?" She smiled. It was a genuine and kind smile; and [First Name] couldn't help but smile. She had the most beautiful smile. Whenever she was genuine with her actions, she really did light up the room. It was a shame she never showed that much and that was because of her parents. Alice's parents weren't nice people and as a result, this made Alice the way she was, and it was a complete and utter shame that was the affect it had on her. Her mother was a raging homophobe and because she could tell that [First Name] had romantic feelings for Lulu, she often tried to keep the two of them apart.

"It's just that driver... He really creeped me out. It was like he was undressing me with his eyes or something. I just... Ugh." Giving her shoulders a small squeeze, Alice pulled her close to her side and offered her a small frown. Before she could say anything, the door opened and Alice and Lulu's mother, Talia stood in the doorway. Her arms were folded tightly to her chest, her lips pursed into a stern frown and her eyes narrowed in disgust. Alice's entire body tensed up at this; and [First Name] found herself becoming extremely angry at how the older woman made Alice feel. But she kept her lips sealed, she didn't want to cause any fights or drama right now.

"You're late. Come on, inside," the four of them made their way inside. The entire building was alive with music and cheerful chatter as the guests socialized amongst themselves. As the three entered, Alice's gloomy face changed from sadness to one of happiness as she saw Solomon standing by the drinks table. Hurrying over to him, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a warm embrace. Resting his hands on her hips, he leaned down and pressed a gentle peck against her forehead. Watching the two of them, [First Name] couldn't help but smile as she placed her hands over her hips. They were cute together.

"I'm happy Alice found someone who can bring out the worst in her," Lulu's voice caused [First Name] to look over her shoulder. She smiled softly and nodded in agreement; the fact Alice found someone who made her happy was really great. Ever since she had known Alice, she had always seemed so guarded. It was due to how she was treated at home though and [First Name] knew this; because she had witnessed first hand how much of a wreck some of the treatment made her. She still remembered the first time Alice truly broke down because of something her mother had said to her and it destroyed her to see her usually strong and confident friend like that. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ "Hey, I was thinking maybe you could get Alice out of her room. Ever since she got into that argument with Mum, she's been in her room crying. She won't even come out to talk to me." [First Name] frowned as she followed Lulu up the stairs; by now her mother had left so the girls were on their own in the house. Reaching the top of the stairs, the two girls approached Alice's room. With a shaky and nervous breath, [First Name] raised her fist to knock on the door. There was no response, so she decided she would have to get in by other means. Lulu had already informed her ahead of time that Alice had locked the door.

"How am I supposed to get in?" She questioned with a frown. Lulu placed her index finger under her chin and pondered for a moment, before an idea eventually struck her. Taking [First Name]'s hand in hers, she guided her towards her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the bedroom door and headed over to a hatch in the wall. Opening it, she couldn't help but sigh, Alice's side was closed and all she could do was hope that it wasn't locked. "Right, you should be able to access Alice's room from here, if she hasn't locked it of course. It didn't cross my mind to try this for some reason," she frowned slightly.

Crouching down, [First Name] began to crawl through the space. Lulu closed the door so that Alice couldn't push her back out. Giving the door a small push, she expected it to be locked, but it wasn't. So she went tumbling onto the carpet. Alice's eyes narrowed as she got up from the bed, her eyes were puffy and face her face was covered in smeared makeup. "What the fuck are you doing in here?!" She yelled. Sitting up, she couldn't help but flinch at the sheer aggression in Alice's tone. She had never seen her like this before and it was heart-breaking. Drying her eyes with the backs of her wrists, Alice got to her feet.

"Get the fuck out!" She yelled, storming over towards the door. However, despite every instinct inside her telling her to leave, she couldn't just let her friend keep crying like this. So instead, she got to her feet and seized Alice's wrist. The girl immediately attempted to recoil her hand away from her, but [First Name] refused to let her go. "Let me go!" Yanking the girl down, she wrapped her arms around her torso and held her close to her chest. At first the girl struggled and kicked and screamed; however, eventually she settled down and relaxed into her embrace before beginning to sob loudly while holding onto her tightly.

"I don't get it. Why does she hate me so much? She says she's ashamed to have me as a daughter. What did I do to make her not want me? I just want her to love me," she wailed as she burrowed her face into the girl's shoulder. Combing her fingers through her long blonde locks, [First Name] couldn't help but swallow harshly as she allowed the girl to continue weeping. Seeing her like this shattered her heart; sure she knew that they didn't have the best relationship, but she didn't know it was to the point where Alice would cry over it. It was awful to know that her friend was being treated so horrifically at home, she wanted to ease her pain, even if it was just a little bit.

"Alice, you're worthy of so much, please don't let what she says affect you." Alice continued to sob loudly as she clung to the girl, almost as though her life depended. Due to having such kind parents, [First Name] didn't understand how she felt, but she knew that she must be torn up inside. Sure, Alice could be hard to handle sometimes, but she knew that was likely because of their horrible parenting. She had seen the nicer sides of Alice and the fact that something they said managed to send her crumbling and spiralling, it tore her up inside because usually Alice was so stern faced and headstrong. Now... She was vulnerable.

All Alice could do was cry as her fingers gripped onto the girl's body. Seeing her like this was painful; it was hard to see her be so emotionally damaged. Her parents were true monsters and she couldn't help but feel awful for Alice. So for a while, she just sat there, cradling the girl in her arms and allowing her to sob. By now, her shirt was damp with tears and slightly crumpled from the way she held onto her. However, she didn't care. All she cared for right now was getting Alice to feel better. And so the two girls sat there for a good few hours until Alice stopped crying and was thankfully in some way, feeling alright again. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ "Hey, are you sure you're okay after earlier? You seemed really shaken up about that driver," Lulu frowned. Reaching out a hand, she gently took [First Name]'s hand in hers before giving it a firm but reassuring squeeze. Looking over at Lulu, the girl tilted her head to the side slightly before giving her a warm smile. Wrapping her arms around the blonde, she held her in a warm embrace, holding her close to her chest. She couldn't help but let out a content sigh as she felt Lulu wrap her arms around her. The sensation caused her heart to flutter rapidly in her chest as she took in the woman's caramel and brownie scent; it felt nice.

"Hey... Lulu. I love you. I love you so much that I can't even stand it." The words just slipped out, she didn't intend for them to, they just did. Lulu instantly tensed up at this and she pulled away slightly before placing her hands on the girl's shoulders and looking into her eyes. The way she was staring... She stared straight at [First Name] in a way that she had never done before. Her eyes were serious and she held a look that she had never worn before. Lulu was always known for her gentle and kind hearted personality and approach to things. So to see her looking like this and being so different. It was strange... Uneasy even.

There was a moment, a brief moment where Lulu spoke, not a single world. The two of them said nothing to one another a few minutes. "I'm so sorry, [First Name]... But I don't feel the same way about you," she placed her hands over her lap. Her heart sank at this, she couldn't help but feel so humiliated. Before Lulu could say anything else, the girl turned on her heel and walked into the crowd. For a moment, she contemplated on following after her. However, she eventually decided that it was best if she left her be for a while and the two of them could talk about things later on once [First Name] was feeling better.

[First Name] took another swig of her vodka as he rested her head against the bar. Her lips were twisted into an uncomfortable frown. "Hey, don't you think you've had enough?" She felt someone place their hands on her shoulders. Looking up, she struggled to make out who the person was. But they looked an awful lot Adam... At least that's who she thought it. All [First Name] could let out was a feeble whine as she pressed her face into the table. The person sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist before lifting her up by swinging an arm over his shoulders and offering an apologetic frown to the bartender.

Taking her outside, he helped her over into a car, in the back seat and laid her down. "Get some rest, I'm taking you home," he offered her a smile. As he pulled away, his hand slid down her leg slightly before resting on her thigh and giving it a small squeeze. At this, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable once again. Adam had never done that before; as far as she was aware, he viewed her as a younger sister figure. So the fact that he did that seemed weird; even in this drunken state, she could tell that something was up. However, she attempted to shrug it off. She had been drinking her sorrows away for the past whoever knows how long.

As she laid on the back seat, she allowed her eyes to try and focus on the driver. "Adam... When did you get white hair?" She questioned groggily. However, he didn't respond and instead draped a blanket over her. A crooked smile twisted onto his features, not that she would be able to see that of course. She found herself being unable to stay awake; most likely due to the large amount of alcohol she had consumed. She knew that it wasn't the best idea to drink that much, but she couldn't help it. For all she knew, she had completely nuked her relationship with Lulu, and most likely Alice in the process. She needed something to take her mind off stuff.

As she rested in the car, she noticed her phone vibrating. It was Alice. She reached over and grabbed it; not noticing how tense the driver seemed. "Alice-" "Hey, [First Name], it's urgent. You know that taxi we got into earlier, that wasn't the taxi we were supposed to get into. I received a charge on my card today for a waiting fee because we made the driver wait ages. Whoever we got into that car with wasn't the right driver. Where are you right now?" It took a while for everything to sink in, but once it did [First Name]'s eyes widened in horror and she soon found herself becoming alert, even through the daze of her tipsiness.

"I'm in the car with Adam." The line went quiet for a couple of seconds before Alice spoke up once again. "That's not possible, I'm here with Adam right now. I'm actually just about to give him his Birthday present... [First Name], whoever you're with, you need to get out of there right now!" Her voice was desperate. However, before [First Name] even had the chance to respond, the car came to a sudden stop. The person reached into the back of the car and snatched her phone straight from her hands before throwing it out of the car. He then proceeded to drive over it before driving off, much to the girl's horror.

"Go to sleep love. We have a long journey ahead of us and you'll need all the rest you can for later..." however he didn't elaborate further on that fact. Before she could respond, he hit her in the neck, causing her to fall unconscious almost immediately. By the time she finally awoke, she was found herself tied to a bed with some sturdy rope. Looking at it, she could tell that it was a constrictor knot, so she knew it would be near impossible to get out of. "Oh? You're awake?" Hearing a familiar voice, she looked up and saw that damn fucking taxi driver entering the room. Or could she even call him a taxi driver at this point.

"You really don't recognize me, do you? I'm not surprised, I mean I look so different from that nerd you knew back in High School after all. I really hoped that you would recognize me though. However, I suppose it's a good thing that you didn't because that could have blown my cover after all. I've been watching you for a while now. Ever since we graduated high school." After a couple of moments, everything sunk in. It was that boy from her school that she had known all those years ago. She never spoke much to him, but she had always seen him hanging around, though she never spoke much to him.

"I can see by that look on your face, you're remembering me now. I'm glad. I was so worried that you would never remember me. After all, you leant me a pen once and ever since then, I knew you were the one." The girl attempted to shift away as he came towards her and climbed on top of her. Her legs flailed about as she began screaming loudly and attempting to get him off her. "Don't fight back please. I love you and I just want the best for you," he began to caress her cheek as she leaned towards her face. However she moved her face away from him, trying to get away from him. She didn't want him anywhere near her.

"Look, it's no use trying to escape. I made sure to tie you up real good. I love you and I'll do anything to make sure that you never leave my side ever again. I mean heck, I almost lost you... That was until I realized you were still friends with those Langley sisters. Stupid girls really. I mean what were they thinking? They post everything online and it makes it easy for people... Including myself, to find out everything I need to know," he smirked as he looked at her with a wide, predatory grin. She felt sick to her stomach. What was he getting at? Was he indicating that he was going to hurt her friends if she didn't comply?

"Hmm, so you are smart. Know that it's not a threat. It's a promise, I will kill your friends if you're not careful," climbing off her, he let out another sigh. "I'll be back with some food soon, so stay here... Heh, who am I kidding? It's not like you can go anywhere," he smirked as he placed a hand on his hip. All she could do was wait for him to come back as she stared up at the ceiling, her lips pulled themselves into a thin frown. What could she do in this situation? She had no idea what she was supposed to do. She missed Alice and Lulu already and she had no idea when she was going to be able to see them again.

After a couple of minutes, he finally returned. In his hand was a plate of food and a drink. "I'm going to untie you now, and you've got free reign so long as you behave. But trust me, if you attempt to escape, I'll find out about it," he frowned. Swallowing nervously, all the girl could do was nod her head. Placing the food down on the bed, he untied her before turning to leave. "I'll leave you to eat in peace and I'll be back to check on you in an hour... I have work I need to do." But before he could leave, she stopped him. "Wait... I need to ask you something," he stopped to look at her. "What is it Love?"

"Are you an actual taxi driver?" She questioned. He shook his head "No. It was pure luck that when I was following you, you were talking about hiring a taxi. I bugged your phone so I can hear what you talk about everything," he smiled. "So, I seized my opportunity to reintroduce myself into your life," he looked down at her. Furrowing her brows, her lips pulled themselves into a frown. "I'd do anything for you, you know that?" "Except for letting me go?" "Except for that," he stated with a cold frown. Placing a hand over hers, he offered her a smile, but she felt sick to her stomach just looking at him.

"Look, everything I do is for you and I'll do anything to make you love me because really at this point... You're just playing hard to get~" he smirked when he did this, but all [First Name] felt was disgust. Playing hard to get? Was he serious?! The young man's lips pulled into a large grin as he placed his hand on her cheek and brushed it over with his thumb. She attempted to shove him away, however, she was unable to even so much as push him away from her. "Stop fighting back. You know that fighting is completely futile, right?" He questioned as he looked down at the young woman with his lips pulling into a frown.

She scowled; she hated him so much. How could he so disgusting to her?! But she knew she had to behave him because she knew that he would hurt Alice and Lulu otherwise. Sighing, he combed his fingers through her hair and he leaned towards her and pressed his against hers. She let out a nervous whimper as he bit down on her lower lip; her lips parted slightly due to the shock. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth and began exploring her wet cavern as he gripped onto her arms. After a couple of seconds, he pulled away, a thin trail of salvia connecting their lips. "I've always wanted to do that, you know?"

Her lips twisted into a bitter frown as she looked up at him. Taking her jaw between his index finger and thumb, he forced her to look away from him. "I hate the fact that you keep pushing me away. I know you're just playing hard to get, but you'll learn to behave for me and you'll grow you appreciate me eventually," he stated as he looked into her eyes. Swallowing nervously, she attempted to push away from him. His cheeks flushed with a lewd pink hue as he looked down at her. "You know, I might have to break it out of you if you don't behave because I really don't want to have to hurt your friends," he smirked.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. "Just kidding~" he teased. "I'll let you at least try and get settled into your new life before doing anything too drastic," he teased. Pulling away from her, he patted her on the head and moved from the bed and leaving towards the door. His lips twisted themselves into a wide grin before leaving, Slumping back onto the bed, she brought her knees to her chest and began to sob quietly. She didn't want to eat or drink right now; she didn't feel happy, she felt sick to her stomach and just wanted to leave. She wanted to just go home and curl up and cry.

He was nothing like the person she knew in school; then again, she didn't know him back then. From what she had seen of him, he was aloof and a tad bit weird, but she didn't think too much of it back then. She could never have thought he could have turned into a complete and utter monster like this. She could only hope that Alice and Lulu would find her and rescue her; but she doubted that they would. After all, she had no idea how far he lived away. If he was willing to pretend to be a taxi driver to get closer to her, then she didn't know what he was willing to do to get closer to her. All she could do was hope and pray everything would be okay.

However, just as she sat wallowing and crying, there was a knock at the door. She wondered who it was; had someone come to help her. She heard Shoto open the door and so she quietly got to her feet and made her way towards the door to listen in (Of course the door was locked though). "Good afternoon officer, what seems to be the problem?" "Hey, we received a call from a concerned neighbour that they saw you with a girl that's been missing on the news. It also checks out with apparently you pretending to be a taxi driver, do you wanna explain yourself?" She heard the officer question him gruffly.

"Oh, she must be mistaken. I haven't had anyone over all day, but you're more than welcome to have a look around. Also, that was an accident. I simply went out for a drive to clear my mind and these girls climbed into my car. I felt bad for them since it was pouring it down and I didn't want to kick them out, so I took them to where they needed to go," Shoto offered the man a smile. Furrowing his brows, the officer stepped inside and proceeded to have a look around the house. Shoto was a usually anxious and pessimistic person, however, right now his resolve was strong and he only wanted [First Name] so he'd do anything for her.

After an hour or so, the officer came back downstairs. "My mistake, I'm sorry for bothering you. You're a good man, I'll let you go about your business. You have a nice day now sir." Shoto shook the officer's hand and allowed him to leave, before closing the door. At hearing him say that he found nothing, she couldn't help but be confused. How had he not found her?! The door began to rattle and [First Name] sprinted towards the bed before jumping onto her bed and pretended to be asleep. As the door opened, Shoto smirked down at her. "Hey~ Don't try and pretend to be asleep because I know you're awake and were listening into that."

[First Name]'s eyes opened as she looked up at him. "I've been planning to kidnap you one day. I just waited for the right moment to do so. I built this room a while ago and I made sure that only I would be able to find him," he stated as he folded his arms to his chest as he looked at her with a small smirk. "No one is coming to rescue you, I hope you know that." He placed one of his hands on his hips as he sauntered over to her. She had no idea how long she had been here for but she knew that it had certainly been more than a day and all she could do was silently pray that she wasn't going to be there much longer.

Sitting on the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. She didn't make a move to hug him back and all she could do was sit there and stare at the wall. "I love you and know that I will do whatever it takes to make sure that no one touches you again. You broke my heart a while ago by falling in love with Lulu, and for a while, I gave up on it because I just couldn't handle it. But I came back with a harder resolve. Because you're mine and mine alone and we were destined to be together. One day you'll grow to realize that I'm what's best for you and you'll grow to love me too." And that's when her living hell began.

#Dark Yandere #male yandere #female reader #dark aesthetic

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nolanell · 3 years

Text

Apartment 9: Writer Wednesday September 8th 2021

Writer Wednesday: @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) x Female Reader

Length: 2.8K

Warnings: Mention of divorce, being a single parent, brief consideration of being a woman alone in a big city. A lot of this takes place in a lift. Allusion to an age gap (not a big one, and reader is of age). Aside from being female and other characters describing her as pretty, there are no other descriptors of the reader. There is one kiss described, but no other physical intimacy.

Author's Note: My first ever Writer Wednesday submission! I hope you enjoy. I have read a few soft and fluffy things for Max Lord recently and he's just been in my head. Inspiration struck me with this week's prompt and I just went with it!

You didn’t know much about the man who lived down the hall. What you did know, you didn’t know if you could fully believe as a lot of it was snippets of lift gossip you had heard as you went to and from your apartment to the ground floor. That didn’t seem reliable, or like it would be particularly kind in the way it painted a picture. But if this gossip was to be believed, he had recently lost everything except his son, who he loved dearly. Essentially, he had made some bad decisions and was now paying for them.

You hadn’t seen him in person yourself until he had been there about six months. It so happened he was running for the lift and you held the door for him. You didn’t know who he was at first.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled softly as he stepped in.

You smiled back.

‘Have you… have you lived here long?’ he asked.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the question, but you couldn’t be too careful, a woman living on your own in the big city.

‘I- I just meant I’ve been here six months and we’ve not met before,’ he explained.

You softened a little bit. Whoever this was, was just trying to be friendly. ‘Two years, nearly,’ you replied.

The lift door dinged as you reached the ground floor. He motioned for you to go first. You paused a second, a little taken aback at his politeness, but walked out of the lift, turning around to face it once you came out. He stepped out after you, not quite sure what to do given you had stopped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

‘You live on the eighth floor too?’ you asked, a little surprised.

‘I do,’ he nodded. ‘Number 11.’

‘Number 9,’ you pointed toward yourself.

‘Wow, practically neighbours for half a year and we’ve only just met!’ he laughed. He had a genuine smile, but his laugh seemed a bit restrained, a bit guarded.

You couldn’t help but break into a big smile at the absurdity of it. ‘Right? How crazy!’

He seemed to perk up a bit at your smile; seemed to stand a bit straighter, his smile starting to reach his eyes a bit more. He pushed his floppy, blondish-brownish hair out of his eyes and smiled again.

‘I’m Max,’ he offered his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

You offered your hand in return and gave your name. ‘Nice to meet you too, Max.’

‘I’ve got to get going, I’m picking up my son,’ Max said, moving toward the exit.

‘Where from?’ you asked. Couldn’t be school at 10am on a Saturday.

‘From his mum,’ Max explained. ‘I get to see him this weekend.’ The smile on Max’s face showed just how happy he was about it. It was a much more genuine smile this time, and very infectious.

‘I won’t keep you then,’ you smiled back, moving to catch up to him. ‘Have a lovely time together.’

‘Thank you,’ Max was still smiling and this one had reached his eyes fully; he looked genuinely pleased at your remark. ‘Have a good rest of the day yourself.’

You parted ways as your came out of the apartment building. He seemed pleasant enough. Just a single dad, clearly loved his son, trying to get by, as far as you could tell. And after all, wasn’t everyone in the building just trying to get by? And if the lift gossip was true, was that really your business, or anyone else’s, for that matter? Max seemed nice enough to want to say hello to, and hold the lift door for again.

You didn’t see him again for a couple of days, and this time you were both waiting for the lift to arrive. After exchanging the standard ‘hello’, the silence was a little difficult; you weren’t one for inane small talk. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Max stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. He looked… nervous?

Come on, you must be able to think of something.

‘How was your time with your son?’ you asked, glancing over at Max.

He looked relieved that you had said something. ‘It was great, thank you,’ he smiled. ‘How have you been?’

‘Not too bad,’ you gave what you hoped was not a tired smile. ‘Just trying to get by.’

Max nodded. ‘I hear that,’ he agreed. ‘Just one foot in front of the other, it feels like some days.’

The lift dinged and the doors opened. Max motioned for you to go first again. ‘To the ground?’ he asked as he went to hit the floor button.

You nodded. ‘Are you seeing your son again today?’

‘No,’ Max said, more than a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘Just out for a walk and a coffee.’

‘There’s a great place round the corner from here, if you haven’t already been. Maria’s?’ you furrowed your brow trying to remember the name.

‘I think I’ve walked past it,’ Max nodded. ‘I’ll check it out. Anything exciting planned for you today?’

You shook your head and laughed. ‘I wish. Just errands.’

‘Never ends, does it?’ Max agreed.

The lift doors opened and again Max motioned for you to go first. As you left the building, Max wished you a nice rest of the day and that he would see you later. You smiled and nodded. You only had two interactions lasting less than five minutes, but Max seemed much nicer than the lift gossip suggested. Which is exactly why you tended not to not give it any credit. At least next time you had something to ask about; whether he tried the coffee at Maria’s, and what did he think of it. You found yourself hoping you saw him again fairly soon; it was nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t just want to gossip about the building residents. Or was it that he was kind of cute? Sure, he was a little older than you, but the way his hair flopped forward when he looked down was adorable. He had a nice smile too. But, you reminded yourself, he was just trying to get by, one foot in front of the other.

But weren’t you, too?

You didn’t see Max for a few days after that and even then, only very briefly. You were coming out of the lift having come up, as he was waiting for it to go down. There was a boy with him you assumed was his son; there wasn’t a huge resemblance, so you assumed he must look more like his mum.

‘Hello Max,’ you greeted him as you stepped out.

‘Hello,’ he smiled at you. ‘I’m so sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll hold the lift for you soon,’ you smirked over your shoulder as you walked to your door. You heard the lift doors close behind you, but not before you heard a chuckle from Max and a young voice ask ‘Dad, who is that?’. So you’d finally met Max’s son, sort of.

You did in fact hold the lift for Max a couple of days later, but on the way up this time. He was carrying a couple of grocery bags and smiled at you over the top of them.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he tried to hold the bags without anything slipping out.

‘Told you I would hold the door for you soon,’ you laughed softly. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Would you mind?’ Max looked relieved. ‘Only if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to impose.’ You motioned with your hands to pass you one and took the one in his left arm from him.

‘How was the coffee at Maria’s? Did you go in the end?’ you asked, once you were sure the grocery bag was secure.

‘I did, it was lovely,’ Max smiled. ‘Definitely one of the best I’ve had since I got here.’

‘It’s my favourite,’ you agreed. ‘Oooh, and it’s nice to see your son has your curiosity.’

Max blinked at you and looked genuinely confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘A few days ago, you were in a hurry as I was coming out the lift? He asked who was that as you got in?’ you explained.

‘Oh! Sorry, yes, I’d almost forgotten,’ he said as recognition crawled across his face. ‘I keep telling him to use his indoor voice. He does keep me on my toes.’

The lift doors dinged, and before stepping out you asked Max if he’d like some help carrying them to his apartment.

‘If you’d hold on to it while I get the door open, that would be wonderful,’ he said, motioning for you to leave the lift first. He followed you as you stepped out and nodded in the direction of his apartment door.

As you got to Max’s door, you were standing either side of the door itself, facing each other as Max fumbled in his pockets for his keys. This was the first time you’d properly looked at him, and you found yourself picking up details you’d not noticed before. His floppy blondish-brownish hair flicked down toward his eyes, that you’d seen before, but you hadn’t noticed how beautiful his deep brown eyes were, and you hadn’t taken in his gorgeous golden skin, and the size of his hands on the grocery bag…

Girl, get it together. This poor guy is probably reeling from who knows what, given he is a dad not living with his son he very clearly loves, and describes living as one foot in front of the other. He does not need you looking at him like that.

You heard Max say something.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ you ask.

‘I… I said thank you so much for helping,’ Max said, his skin a little pink.

His front door was open. He’d found his keys and opened the door while you’d been gawking at him. Your cheeks burned slightly at the thought he might have noticed.

‘Oh! It’s no trouble,’ you smile. ‘Want me to bring this in?’ You raised the bag you were still holding.

‘No, don’t worry, I’ve got it from here,’ Max chuckled. He seemed to be avoiding your gaze.

You straightened up and smiled again as you passed the bag over. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. See you later, Max!’

‘See you later,’ Max replied, as you were already walking back to your own door.

Later turned out to be a couple of days later, and again you met Max going up in the lift. He had his son with him again.

‘This is Alistair,’ Max beamed proudly, after introducing you to his son.

You knelt down, and smiled at Max’s son. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alistair,’ you hold your hand out.

‘You too!’ he smiles in that adorable, excited way most children do, and shakes your hand.

You stand back up again as the lift dings and you all get in, Max holding Alistair back as he lets you go first again. In the lift, Alistair presses the button for the eighth floor, and looks up at you.

‘Can I press the button for you?’ he asks.

‘You already have,’ you smile down at him. ‘I live on the same floor as your dad.’

Alistair smiles. He gets this expression on his face you can’t place. You don’t dwell on it as you hurriedly try to think of small talk; what can you ask that doesn’t ignore one or the other? Then it hits you.

‘Alistair, has your dad taken you to Maria’s?’ you ask him, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth.

‘The coffee shop?’ Alistair looks at you, confused, as you nod. ‘No, he says coffee is for grown ups,’ Alistair rolls his eyes.

‘That’s true, but you know what? Maria’s also does amazing milkshakes,’ you grin as you look at Max. He smiles at you.

‘Ooooh,’ Alistair gasps.

The lift dings. Max motions for you to go first. You step out and kneel down to Alistair again. ‘It was nice meeting you, Alistair. See you soon?’

Alistair nods with a smile. You stand up and smile at Max ‘I’ll see you soon,’ you say as you walk toward your door.

‘Dad, is that the pretty lady from number 9?’ you hear Alistair’s voice, and you’re glad you’re walking away as your face flushes red.

‘Indoor voice, please, Alistair,’ you hear Max sigh, as their footsteps move away from you.

You’re beginning to think Max is avoiding you. It’s been almost a week since you met Alistair and you’ve not seen him. You’re standing in the lift waiting for it to start moving, staring at your shoes, as you hear someone get in. Your eyes flick up for a second and you see Max standing in the lift with you.

The lift doors close and it begins descending.

For the first time, you actually feel like there is an awkward silence between you two. You dare another glance at Max and he is doing the same as you, staring at his shoes. That gorgeous hair has flipped forward again, hands stuffed into his pockets…

You clear your throat. ‘Do you normally tell Alistair about all the pretty ladies you see?’

Max’s head whips round to you, so fast your surprised he’s not given himself whiplash. ‘I’m… I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

You smile kindly at Max. ‘Not at all,’ you reply. ‘But that’s not what I asked,’ your expression turns into something of a mischievous grin.

Max blushes. Those stunning eyes meet yours. ‘I… I told him… well, you’re the only one I’ve ever mentioned.’

It was your turn to flush red. ‘Really?’

Max nods as the lift dings for the ground floor, and gestures for you to go first. ‘And even then, it was his idea.’

‘What?’ you ask, confused.

Max looks at the floor, smiling nervously. ‘Remember when we were on our way down, when we were in a rush? Well, he asked who you were, as you heard, and I explained you lived at number 9 and we got the lift together sometimes.’

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

‘And Alistair really does keep me on my toes because he said you were really pretty, and I agreed. And of course he decides to remember that at the point it would cause the most embarrassment,’ Max sighs, risking a glance over to you.

‘I think it was more the lack of indoor voice that was the problem,’ you giggle.

Max laughs, another genuine one that reaches his eyes, and he nods in agreement. ‘It certainly was,’ he smiles, a sweet little dimple emerging on one side of his face. He was so cute, and you were starting to think he had absolutely no idea.

You both stood there for a few seconds in silence, not really knowing what to do next but also not really wanting to end the encounter.

‘Where are you off to?’ Max asks you.

‘Nothing too exciting, just a walk and then coffee at Maria’s,’ you reply.

‘What a coincidence,’ Max smiles. ‘Would you mind if I join you?’

‘Of course,’ you nod. ‘Who would turn down the gorgeous guy from number 11?’

Max flushes red. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’m glad the pretty lady from number 9 wouldn’t.’

Damn, he really had no idea how cute he was, did he?

As you step out of the building, Max offers you his arm, and you loop yours through it as you walk down the steps from the entrance. You pause at the bottom, smile and gaze into those incredible dark brown eyes. Before you know where you are, your lips are on his and you’re running your hands through his hair, curling your fingers at the back of his neck. His lips are impossibly soft, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close to him. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking permission, and you are all too happy to grant it. He’s gentle, almost hesitant at first, but his kiss deepens into something so passionate you’re glad he’s holding your waist, as he’s making you weak at the knees.

Eventually you pull back, breathless, giddy, smiling. ‘Wow,’ is all you can offer.

Max smiles and blushes for about the third time in five minutes. ‘Wow indeed,’ he agrees. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee and you can tell me about this gorgeous guy at number 11.’

You roll your eyes, loop your arm in his and start walking. ‘Sure thing, but only if there’s more of those kisses in it for me,’ you tease.

#writer wednesday #max lord fanfic #max lord x you #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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inessencedevided · 3 years

Note

Wei Wuxian enters the Underworld Chamber with several scrolls clutched in his arms, struggling to keep them all together but he is able to settle them down on a table next to the one that is holding his client with a great clatter. For a moment he entertains himself with thinking what the Second Jade who was known to be very rule abiding would say to his general … everything. He would probably have those straight, black eyebrows furrowed and reprimand him with a single word.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here, hm?”, he offers and sifts through his collection of scrolls from the library of the Lan sect. “Your older brother gave me access to some very interesting scrolls, you know?! Your sect is famous for musical cultivation, he told me that you were on your way to become the best guqin player, close to Lan Yi. Fascinating stuff, this. Inquiry. Talking to the dead through the means of music. Maybe this will help me before I use Empathy. Which is a method I invented.”

He does this a lot, chattering away at people to break the ice. There is not a lot of ice to break because the person he is talking to is dead but it still feels nicer than to be completely quiet. And according to ZewuJun, his brother is still here, so maybe he will feel less alone like this. So he shuffles over to the guqin that seems to have been repaired. There is still some brownish-red residue on the wood and he knows that it only can be one thing. Blood. “Alright. Let’s do this,” he says softly. Carefully, he follows the movements that are described on the page, lets the notes ring out, waits for an answer in the dark.

There is silence for a moment and he is afraid he played so badly that the ghost is somehow offended and doesn’t want to come. But then, suddenly, there is an answer. No unnecessary embellishments, played slowly so he can understand but still so beautiful that he knows who it is. Who it only can be.

Who are you sings the instrument and he makes an excited sound, shuffling even closer. Wei Wuxian he answers, carefully playing out the notes. Your brother. Asked for help. he answers haltingly. It is almost like learning a new language. I go through memories. Am I allowed? There is another moment of silence, then he swears the answer sounds almost surprised. Yes. You may, Wei Wuxian. He giggles and bites his lip. “Call me Wei Ying,” he tells the room before remembering that he should have used the guqin. The instruments sings out, completely unprompted. Wei Ying.

His grin threatens to split his face and he gets up, walking towards the body, taking in the serene face, the inky hair, the creamy skin. He really is a beauty. “Just a moment,” he tells him and pats his hand, walking to the door and calling Lan Xichen in, who comes without any further prompting. “He gave me permission,” Wei Wuxian explains and then hands the sect leader a Clarity Bell, a thank you from Jiang Yanli for helping her sect when it called for it. “Ring this when things get sticky or I do not wake up. It will call me back.”

ZewuJun nods, taking the Bell, settling in, watching them both with a worried expression but Wei Wuxian just smiles and kneels next to the body, taking his hands, noticing how cold and yet soft they are, callouses at their fingertips from playing the guqin. “Lan Wangji,” he whispers. “Show me. Show me what is keeping you here.”

The memories feel like the first snow beneath naked feet, dropping into a body of cold water but also like standing on a mountain and letting the winds rush by. They start with a little boy kneeling in front of a house surrounded by gentians, clad in the same white the whole sect wears. He is six at most and why this memory is shown, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know but he keeps concentrating, diving deeper. He sees a strikingly handsome teenager studying in the library, copying old scrolls, playing quin and sneaking vegetables to the back hills where white bunnies roam. The images flash by, a lecture with disciples from other sects, Wen Chao and his entourage arriving and making a scene.

One moment stands out. The same teenager who must be Lan Wangji catches a young female disciple roaming the back hills, a Wen from the red of her robes. He walks away with her and the scenery shifts. They are in a building that is most likely the home of the sect leader, ZewuJun and his brother who stands next to him, straight-backed and breathtaking. He can hear voices, hears them talking of something Wen Ruohan wants, that he will raze the Cloud Recesses to the ground for it. The Yin Iron. Part of it is hidden away here. They will need to prepare for the worst.

The scene shifts again, to Caiyi and Lan Wangji walking through the busy market, holding his sword in his hand, one hand in a fist behind his back like a proper gentleman. He can hear crying and both of them look for the source of it, Wei Wuxian constricted by the limited sight he has. It is little girl with braided buns, crying heartbreakingly next to a stall with animals made from colourful cloth.

The cultivator with the severe face and the countenance of a remote, snow-capped mountain, kneels next to her and hands her a bunny rabbit made from colourful cloth, just purchased apparently, waiting for her to talk. “I lost my gege,” she sobs and shuffles closer, hugging him, getting his white robes dirty. He does not seem to care, instead looks at her and gently lays a hand on her shoulder. “I have a gege as well. I would be scared if I lost him in the crowd,” he says and oh, his voice. It’s calm and deep, trying to settle the little girl. “Shall we look for him together?”

She sniffles and nods, taking his hand in hers, looking up at him in awe and Wei Wuxian can relate. After just a moment, they have found her big brother and the little girl runs to hug him with a shriek of delight. He can see the corners of Lan Wangji’s mouth tilt up into a soft smile, barely noticeable but it is there. He seems to be content with a job well done.

Another shift. They seem to come quicker now, more talk of the Yin Iron, someone he recognises as Lan Qiren taking stock of their most valuable scriptures, letting it be taken away. It is terribly busy but Lan Wangji is a mountain in a rushing stream, carrying what he can with his impressive arm strength.

Yet another and the Cloud Recesses are burning. The disciples are running, many of them armed, some carrying instruments. Caiyi is in disarray as well, people barricading their homes, locking up their animals. Lan Wangji is making a sweep through town, his immaculate robes already stained with soot. The little girl from before runs towards him and hugs his leg, tearful and scared but she knows she is safe with the young cultivator. He gently pats her head and does the same to her rabbit doll.

Then, his face grows serious and he kneels down to look at her, reaching up and undoing his ribbon that falls into his hands, carefully tying it around her wrist. “Keep this safe. Go and take your brother, your parents and look for a grey mountain with yellow veins. This will give you free passage through the secret entrance. You will be safe,” he tells her gently and gets up. “Look for a man who looks like me but older. Lan Xichen.”

Another shift. This one seems to be the last. Lan Wangji is riddled with arrows, bleeding profusely, staggering but still standing upright. His forehead is bare, his hands around the hilt of his sword are bloodied but he carries himself with grace and sheer bullheaded stubbornness. What was that saying again? No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it. He is so very brave. Wei Wuxian can feel his need to protect the ones who are hidden in the cave behind him even at the cost of his own life.

He seems to have set his mind on something, following Wen Xu, even as another arrow buries itself in his back and a voice cries out “A-Zhan! No!”. A sharp crack, bones crunching. His leg is broken but Wen Xu is dead, staring into nothingness. Lan Wangji does not cry out, instead uses his sword to get up again, breathing hard, spitting blood but still, there is a defiant light in his eyes. Someone trips him up and he falls to his knees, his head held high, his guqin on the ground next to him, strings bloodied. As the sword finds its mark, Wei Wuxian does not look away. Dares not look away. Lan Wangji stays proud and brave until he crumples to the ground and stops breathing.

Ringing, silvery and gentle, pulls him out of the cold waters, guides him back into his own body. As he comes to with a gasp, he notices that he has been crying. He wipes his eyes and looks at the body in front of him, at this brave and stubborn man who died defending those he cared about. “You were so good. So good, Lan Zhan,” he whispers, the personal name slipping out as he squeezes the cold hands, looks into his serene face. “The best.”

He turns to Lan Xichen who looks like he has been crying as well. “He died with the deep wish to protect still ingrained into him. He wants to make sure you are alright. And… he is guarding something. I… you spoke of the Yin Iron.”

The way Lan Xichen pales is answer enough.

- 🍄 anon

(Part one for all who didn't read it)

Omg!!! You sent me through every feeling IMAGINABLE 🍄 anon 😭😭😭

That line about there being a lot of ice to crack made me laugh and then you just came at me like that with feelings about lwj dieing! Not. Fair. 🥺

And lwj + little kids = love :D

#🍄 anon #ask #undead lwj fic #that's going to be the tag now #because he's not a fierce corpse not really a ghost either so ... generally undead it is ^^#the untamed #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #wangxian fic #cql #mdzs

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hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

The good ol' days...?

Rex layed in his bed with his wife, Quetzalcoatl laying across from him. The two we're falling asleep for the night, Quetz's hands holding Rex's as they drift off.

Then in his dreams, Rex found himself in a huge jungle, that looks to be in the middle of hellish fire-storm! He starts to see huge dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals running past him in a panic! "What the hell is going on!?" He asks himself! Then as he watches on, he sees a huge Quetzalcoatlus pterosaur run by, with what seem to be a strange green substance covering portions of it's body. Some of the substance covered it's mouth, which gave the shape of sharp teeth. Then Rex's eyes locked on to the creature's eyes and it was like time stopped! For some reason... he recognized those eyes... shining jade like eyes...

"...mi corazon?"

For some reason he could recognize the creature as Quetzalcoatl... the goddess he married...

Then time continued as normal, and he sees the creature fly off, away from the hellscape... then Rex remembered what she told him in the past...

"I'm a...symbiotic alien ... that came to earth with a meteor, millions of years ago..."

That's what she meant... the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs... that was the first host she took on when first arriving...

Then Rex found himself somewhere else... he saw people. The people were in the middle of building something... he recognized the structure... it was Quetz's old temple... long before it was finished... if that is the case... it's likely he was witnessing the Olmecs... one of, if not the oldest mesoamerican civilizations to exist... or at the very least it was the people of Teotihuacan, a slightly less ancient civilization...

Then he noticed someone who stood out compared to the other people... a very tall women, in a much nicer tunic compared to the others, and a simple feathered headdress. It was clear she was in charge... another interesting detail was her height, compared to the others, she was massive!

Then something else stood out to him, after her head moved in a way that allowed Rex to get a good look at her eyes, he saw them. Just like before, shining green jade eyes... it was her again... Quetzalcoatl... he knew for sure it was her... one of her older forms... from long long ago... he knew her anywhere!

Then he was somewhere else... some other time... in a huge and elaborate mesoamerican city... it was night time and he was surrounded by huge Temples and smaller buildings that also dotted the city.

He wasn't entirely sure which city this could be... perhaps it was Tenochtitlan... the capital of the Aztec capital, in the place of modern day Mexico city...

*Boom!*

A huge boom was heard, Rex looked towards the direction of the sound and saw a building had been wrecked! There was a huge hole and some smoke was coming out of the hole.

He then saw a woman climb out of the hole. The woman was tall, and was wearing an outfit somewhat similar to the outfit Quetz wore to battle, but some details differed. One major one was a headdress made to look like a snake's head. She was tan, and had brownish hair that faded into a firey red. The woman was injured, one hand seemed limp and was being supported by the other. She was also bleeding and didn't seem like she could move much...

Her jade green eyes burned with hatred, then Rex heard someone else talking.

"Hahahaha! What a sad showing Quetzalcoatl!"

Rex looked over and saw someone else. A man in a Jaguar pelt with yellow and back stripes on his face. It was Tezcalipoca...

"Maybe you shouldn't have been drinking so much!? Maybe you could've won this battle!"

The Jaguar god taunted the Serpent goddess...

"Bastard! You tricked me into drinking that much with that stupid mirror for your's!"

The injured goddess was angry, but it didn't seem like she could do much more against her rival.

"Either way, you're done! Now I banish you, Quetzalcoatl! Don't try to fight anymore!"

It was clear she had little choice but to abide by his words... she was injured and fighting more would be suicide...

"Fine, bastard! But I'll be back..."

She gave a promise to return... this moment may be what solidified her to the Avenger class Rex knew she qualified for...

"But first, a parting gift"

And after she says this, she's seen zooming out of the hole, and crashing into a huge palace! Causing a giant burning explosion!

"NOOO!!!"

The Jaguar god was angry at what she did. At first Rex wasn't sure why... then he remembered something. Xiuhcoatl, the main noble phantasm that Quetz used in battle, this was the story that that noble phantasm came from. Her destroying her palace to prevent Tezcalipoca from getting her treasures...

Then he found himself in another place and time. He was in a stadium...

He looked on forward, and saw something that had become very familiar... a lucha match.

He watched the match for a short while, before the very enthusiastic cheers of a woman drew his attention. He looked towards the crowd cheering the fighters on, and saw an extra enthusiastic woman watching the match. Just like before, the woman was tall, with green eyes and sharp teeth. It was Quetzalcoatl once again... tho also just like before, she had the appearance of another body, a different host this time too.

When Rex saw his wife, he remembered something.

"I was once summoned into the modern age, and bore witness to the art of Lucha Libre! The beauty of it moved me to tears and I knew I HAD to master it!"

This must've been that moment. The woman was in fact, moved to tears, and she was cheering on more enthusiastically then anyone else in the stands.

Then things changed one last time... but this time... he recognized the setting. It was the summoning room of the original Chaldea... and there he stood, right in front of the summoning circle, and before him stood Quetzalcoatl. It was all just like when he first summoned her. Then she spoke up.

"Hiiii! The Goddess Quetzalcoatl arrives in the ring! Huh? I expected nude priests, but you're an adorable little summoner. Heehee, I don't suppose you're interested in tall, older women?"

And just like the first time, Rex's mouth said something before his brain could process what was going on...

"YES! That's my favorite kind of woman!"

Then he was awake... it was day time and he was in his bed, finally awakening from that dream. He saw his wife also awaken.

"Buenos dias mi amor! Did you have a good dream?"

Then Rex answered...

"Si! It was very good, because I dreamt of you, mi corazon!"

"Aaawww! I dreamt of you too mi amor!"

A/N: so I was reminded of how Quetz and the other mesoamerican deities use human hosts to manifest in Fate and how masters dream of their servants and decided to write about Rex dreaming of previous manifestations of Quetz. There's probably way more, but decided on a few I think seemed important enough, also a bit of a history lesson too!

Some tags...

@hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @grievouslyxorvia @exmeowstic @panyum

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #mastersona #rex #rexcoatl

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cordria · 4 years

Text

Fav AU

Danny yawned as he flew through the ghost zone, taking a leisurely track through some of the nicer sections. If luck was with him, he wouldn’t run into a single ghost that would attempt to pick a fight. It had taken months of work to convince his mother that the ghost zone wasn’t nearly as dangerous as she thought it was - no need to ruin that on the first trip.

“Why are you going so fast?” came a voice in his ear.

“I’m not?” Danny answered with a roll of his eyes. “If I go any slower, I’ll never get home.”

There was a clicking of keys on a keyboard. “We’re not getting clear enough data on certain things. We’ll have to come up with a better plan than a backpack full of sensors.” His mother sounded like she was scowling.

Danny grinned. There was no way she’d suggest he spend more time in the ghost zone - she was still convinced the place was full of murderers and other despicable characters, and was only barely allowing this trip - but she had to be frustrated that she wasn’t getting her data. She’d spent weeks planning out this trip.

“Are you sure you can’t slow down, just a little?”

“I’m sure,” Danny said, snugging the backpack full of sensors a little higher on his back. The constantly shifting physics of the ghost zone made slow travel much more complicated. Speed and distance seemed to be connected; the slower he went, the longer physical distance he would have to travel.

Besides, at the rate he was going, he had a nice, safe path back to the portal. Any slower, and the path back to the portal would get longer and it would route him past Walker’s prison and just a little too close to Skulker’s hunting grounds for his peace of mind. His mother didn’t need to know those two places existed.

She sighed, and Danny could hear the chair squeak as she shifted her weight. “Maybe we could set up a probe network or something.”

Danny fought back a smile at the thought of peppering Walker’s section of the ghost zone with ghost-proof human technology. It would definitely drive the ghost up the wall. “Or something, for sure.”

Looping over a little floating island, Danny glanced around. This was a quiet, peaceful part of the ghost zone, one that allowed Danny to actually take in how beautiful this place was. The shifting gasses and colors, the creatures that scurried around, and the alien pieces of land floating around.

“Wait!” his mother shouted suddenly.

Danny stopped, glancing around in a moment of panic. The sudden spike of adrenaline made his heart beat loud in his ears, imagining all the horrible things that could be about to descend on him. “What?”

The ghost zone still seemed peaceful and quiet. His heart slowly sank back down out of his throat.

“We’re getting back some odd data from one of the sensors.”

Danny swallowed back some angry words at that. After all that work to convince her that this world wasn’t dangerous, he couldn’t possibly explain to her why he had a trigger reaction to shouting. “What kind of data?” he asked instead, when he was sure his voice was steady.

“The oxygen levels, oddly. They have gone up nearly fifty percent.”

“Neat,” Danny said. “Not sure it’s worth the scream in my ears,” he grumbled.

“Sorry. I’m trying to figure out if it’s a sensor error,” her voice was quiet, and the keys on her keyboard were clicking furiously. “The oxygen levels have stayed remarkably steady through this whole trip. It’s an anomaly.”

Danny chewed on his tongue for a moment, debating, before turning a bit to his right and heading towards a particular spit of land.

“Sweetie, can you hold still just a bit longer? I’m still debugging the sensors.”

“I think your sensors work just fine,” Danny said. “I’m taking a detour. I know where the oxygen is coming from. Or I think I do, anyways.” He twirled in the air, taking a lazy route over several little rocks. Ahead of him, the odd spot in the ghost zone came into view. “See that?” he asked, pointing towards it.

“What is that?” she asked.

Unlike the alien, greenish landscape he’d been traveling through, this area glowed a soft orange. Leafy trees reached high in the sky, creating a forest that covered every inch of ground. “Do you want to know what I know for a fact, or do you want to know what I think it is?”

“Facts, please.”

“It’s located right here.” Danny grinned, deliberately staying quiet as he got closer.

“That’s it?” she asked. She sighed; Danny imagined she was shaking her head and had that half-amused smile on her face. “You’re right about the sensor though, the oxygen levels are getting higher the closer you get to that island.”

Danny chuckled. “I think it used to be part of the human world. You know how Amity Park got pulled into the ghost zone last year? I think it’s like that. A part of our world that got pulled in… and just never got pushed back.” He spiraled in, brushing over the tops of the trees. Each tree sported odd-colored leaves and hundreds of brilliantly glowing orange fruits. He snagged one of the leaves and held it up so she’d be able to see it in the camera. The leaf was an odd shade of purple, and glowed faintly. “See? It looks like a normal, human-world leaf, minus the color.”

“You’re talking about a forest full of plants that have somehow existed in, reproduced in, the ghost zone for enough generations that they’ve turned purple and started to glow.” Her voice was quiet.

With a shrug, Danny dropped the leaf. “Yeah. They still produce oxygen, I guess. You know, trees do that.”

There was a dead silence over the headset.

It went on long enough that Danny stopped and tapped his ear. “Hello?” he asked, trying to figure out if it was still functional.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie. I just… you don’t understand the implications of what you’ve found.”

“Oxygen?”

She laughed breathlessly. “I… Just... Wow. You need to bring home a sample.”

Danny scowled a little. “How do I bring home a sample of oxygen?”

“Of the tree, Sweetheart. Preferably a seedling so we have a complete plant. And any other plant species you can find.”

“It’s just these trees,” Danny swooped down through a hole between the branches. Under the thick canopy, it was a forest of tree trunks and bare ground. The purple from the leaves, the bright orange of the fruit, and the green of the ground blended into a brownish smear of color. “Nothing else is here. What’s so important about some trees anyway?”

His mother was babbling to herself, no doubt scribbling notes on paper so fast she would need help deciphering them later. Chattering about geneticists and botanists and other titles Danny didn’t understand.

Danny rolled his eyes and got to searching for a good sample for her. It’d be several minutes before she would be ready to talk. Small trees grew here and there, but most were far too big to bring home.

“Oh, Sweetie, grab a couple of those fruits too. Just dump the sensors out the backpack; you can fill up the backpack with samples.”

“The oh-so-precious sensors I got the hour long lecture about being careful with?” Danny arched an eyebrow, lacing his voice with sarcasm. “Just dump them on the ground?”

“Child of mine, I’ve been incredibly wonderful the last two months about this year-long-secret-keeping-mistake of yours. Would you like me to change my mind about that?”

Danny scowled and ducked through a thicker section of the forest. “No.”

“Then drop the sarcasm and pick up a few of those fruits. Try to grab a few at different stages of ripeness.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered. He hesitated when he spotted a small seedling. Dropping down to the ground, he crouched and studied it. Maybe a foot tall, with a dozen small leaves. “How about this one?”

“Perfect!” his mother said. “Do you think you can dig it out? Bring some of the ground with so we don’t disturb the roots too much. I want to see if I can keep it alive.”

Danny snorted. “Never thought you’d be talking about living samples from the ghost zone, huh?”

“You’ve been turning my world upside down since you were born, Sweetie. The last few months especially. Think you can get that home?”

He dug a toe into the ground. It was almost rock-hard. He’d hate to dig with his hands. “Yeah… let me see if I can find a good stick to dig with.” Danny got to his feet and started wandering around, studying the ground. The place was remarkably clear of broken limbs. Perhaps with no storms or wind, trees just didn’t lose branches as fast.

“Just think,” his mother was saying, “of what we can learn from these trees. Jack and I don’t have enough knowledge of genetics and biology to really do much with you, and we can’t, for obvious reasons, send any of your samples away for testing. But a plant?”

Danny wrinkled his nose. Sounded boring.

“It opens up so many doors! And now we’ll be able to study if ectoplasm can be carried through genetic markers, and passed down through generations, and how it affects DNA…” she trailed off, the keys on her keyboard clicking away.

Danny spotted something long and skinny and stick-like on the ground. “Perfect,” he murmured, jogging over to grab it.

But it wasn’t a stick. “Um… Mom?” he said.

“Hmm?” The quick clicking stopped. “Oh, my lord,” she whispered. “Forget about the seedling. Bring that home.”

(to be continued...)

#dannymay2020 #quick writing #sorry for being gone a few days #had some... bad days #my favorite au i've never written about #just keep it in my mind #it's been my fav au for over a decade now #this is a small part of a story i'm writing #that maybe some year i'll finish #and post #to be continued next time i post

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dredgenshrike-defunct · 3 years

Note

quondam - belonging to some time long past; once but no longer; - a drabble about Gospel? I need more of this man in my life :3

Gospel picks at a pile of rocks- his hands sifting through the rubble until he finds what he's looking for. It's only a tiny gem of the past- a rosary, the cross busted and some of the gems far past saving. Beads fall off the old string as he picks it up, holding it up to the light. It hits the cross in a way that turns the brownish white tan.

"Is that it?" Sloth asks, at his side. Gospel matches the Ghost with a look that Sloth can't quite place.

"I don't really know..." He mutters, sitting back down heavily. His eyes go back up from under his helmet- looking at the burn marks that scorch the rocks and rubar. He remembers this place. He remembers it well.

His grip on the cross tightens.

"None of them- they really didn't deserve that." He says after a moment, remembering so vivdly the screams of humans. All flesh and bones. Gospel has to take a moment- shifting the corss into his other hand and unfurling his fingers. He stares into his skin, where his loveline crosses his palm for a while. Is he human?

He isn't sure.

"Sure, none of them did. But that's how it was back then. Risens just...did that. You haven't done it in a long time though, right? Shaxx is still in Tower too. You've gotta think about what he must have done." Sloth bobs in the air, and turns back to him. "Risen are nicer now though. You wouldn't go burn holes into the city nowadays."

Gospel feels his head throb. He furrows his brow. "Why do you still call us that? Risen?" He asks, looking back at Sloth.

Sloth's optic flickers. "That's what you are, yea?"

Gospel looks back at his hands. That does not quell the identity crisis. He couldn't even have the death Humans could have. The more centuries that past, the more he began to struggle with any human emotion either. "They call us Guardians now. I think thats a better word."

Risen used to be spoken in tones of fear- when mortals were scared to die their only death by one of them. Guardian was spoken in tones of hope. Gospel thinks he likes that one more, but when another Guardian challenges him (Like Alphas threats, and Shrikes little chase) he thinks Risen should still be something humans should know. They would never wrong their protectors, but in the case one did...would he fall to the same path Shrike had?

Sloth's shell tilts back, and the ghost begins to speak again. It drags Gospel from his thoughts once again. "I think Risen is better. For you atleast. You don't really protect the city that much and-"

Gospel gives the Ghost an exhausted look. Sloth's gives a small beep. "That... wasn't a compliment was it?"

Gospel drags a hand down his face. "Could the Traveler not have granted me a Ghost with any more intelligence?"

Sloth's beeping intensifies. "HEY- you know what, die again and see who helps you! If I don't have intelligence...You don't have it either! We are one in the same! You humans are always so finnicky...."

Gospel can't help but smile. He listens (or atleast pretends to) his Ghost chew him out in the background. Somewhere in his mind echoes that Sloth is right. Risen fits him much more- he has never done anything substantial like the Young Wolf. Maybe the Praxic experiments push him even further. But he doesn't entirely care.

He tosses the cross back into the rocks. It belongs to the desert as much as he does. Sand kicks up at his robes- like the desert is alive under him and he stands, as his Ghost goes quiet. It gives him a confused look but he has no right taking something he stole the owner from in the first place.

Gospel knows his actions should remove him from the title of Guardian at all. He finds some solace in the memory of how children look at him with wonder though. He thinks distantly that the title of Risen owns him no longer; he'll spend his days fighting for the tower, up until his final breath. If the cross belongs here, than he belongs back, researching a new way to keep the city safe. "Let's go home, Sloth." He says, reaching to drag the tiny light closer.

#//asks #//Uhhh i write in present tense when im drabbling so this is gonna look different than my rp #//anyways I hope this is good #//Gospel...u weird weird bitch

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robinsdoghouseofwhump · 4 years

Text

Gabriel's Dangerous New Owners (AU)

(Aaaaaah! We finally finished this! Me and miss @whumping-every-day have been working on this piece since November! I'm soso glad to be able to work with her again)

(So backstory, this piece came from an ask that I sent her and it turned into a full blown project. This is the only chapter of this but I think it's my best writing yet. All characters belong to @whumping-every-day)

"Here it is," A small thing was shoved to the floor in front of the cherry wood desk with a thud. "It’s in very good condition, and very well behaved."

The woman behind the desk was impassive. “This is what you’re trying to trade us?” She pursed her lips, eyes cold. “What do you think, Stefan?”

The second figure looming behind her didn’t respond at first, except to cross his arms and frown. “Doesn’t look worth thirty grand to me.”

“No, it doesn’t, does he.” The first man shifted uneasily; this was his last-ditch effort, after all. He didn’t have thirty grand to give them.

“I assure you that it’s worth it. I’ve had a few pets, this one is by far the most obedient. And still so responsive.” The man fisted a hand in the kneeling figure’s hair; there was a small whimper, but no other sound. The narrowing of Stefan’s eyes and the tensing of Maria’s shoulders could almost be mistaken for a trick of the light.

“Here’s a thought,” Maria purred. She leaned forward against the desk, and despite her being perhaps half the weight of the two men in the room, she radiated danger. “We take your boy. And in exchange, instead of breaking every bone in your body and then dumping it into a vat of acid, you can have another month to get us our money.”

“But-” The man balked, and indignation flared in his eyes. “That wasn’t the deal. I’ll give him to you in exchange for waiving my debt.”

“Mmm…” Maria paused, cocked her head, smiled. “Nope.”

Stefan outright laughed behind her, shaking his head. “There you have it. We’ll take what you’re offering… and then, if you haven’t found a way to pay us properly within a month, we’ll take everything else.”

“Really, you’re getting a better deal than most.” Her nails drummed a tat-tat-tat pattern against the polished cherry as Maria spoke. “See, normally when people can’t pay, they don’t walk out in one peice.”

The threat, as tame as it was, elicited another tiny whimper from the boy kneeling on their floor.

"Come on, please, I need more than a month for that much money! Please give me more time." The man's voice wavered a bit, and the two siblings smirked at his begging.

"If you thought that one of your old pets was going to cut it, you're wrong." Stefen frowned. "Come on Todd, I thought you knew how we operate. Human property will buy you an extension. That’s all." The sound of a gun being clicked made the boy duck his head down and cower where he knelt.

Tod went pale, took a step back. “Oh, come on… I’ve got a month, right? I can make that work.” His voice shook ever so slightly, giving away his fear. “I can get your money.”

“Oh?” Maria’s lips pulled up in a grin, saccharine and threatening. “Well now, that’s a change in tune. You have a month. No more.” The man nodded frantically, apparently having given up on words, and Maria waved a hand. “That’s good enough for me, then. You, get out.” The words are very clearly directed at Todd. “And of course, leave your pet plaything.”

Todd nodded shakily, and there was a visible tremor in his hands as he backed away, eyes still fixed on the weapon at Stefan’s hip.

“I’ll get your money,” he squeaked. Then he was at the door, and a guard opened it from the outside. It thudded shut behind him, and then the two siblings were alone with the quivering boy on the floor.

Stefan sighed, and his hand fell from the butt of his weapon. Then he crouched down in front of the little thing. "Hey bud, look at me." The man tipped his chin up with a finger, and frightened blue sapphires welled up with tears met his eyes. "Are you alright?"

No response.

"I asked you a question little one, can you answer for me?" His tone turned softer, but firmer. "Do you have a name?"

The boy only whimpered and shook as tears washed down his dirty cheeks. He was trembling faintly, something distant in his eyes.

"Do you think he's mute?" Maria looked down at the boy and ran a hand along his dark curls. "I wouldn't be surprised, Todd doesn't take very good care of his possessions."

"No, I think he's just scared." Stefan frowned a bit and tapped the boy's chin. "He has a right to be, though. We did just send his owner running like a beaten dog."

“Mm.”

At the mention of a beating, even in passing, the boy trembled harder. It seemed like he was doing his best to be quiet, but he couldn’t help the way his breath was shaky, or the little not-quite-whimpers that escaped every few seconds.

“You’re not going to calm him down right away,” Maria said, pushing to her feet from the plush chair. “I’ll tell you what. Here’s what I think might help…”

She crossed out from behind the desk, and even though she was smaller than her brother, the fluidity in her motions spoke to something deadly. Stefan stepped aside automatically.

The leather of the boy’s collar was stiff against her fingers. Maria tested the give of it as gently as possible, frowning at the state of his neck; it had been rubbed raw from the tightness of it. "Up, little one. Don't be shy." Her words were soft, and the boy shakily scrambled up to his feet, sheer terror etched in sapphire eyes.

"Good boy. Now come along, we need to get you fed and bathed." A warm smile starkly contrasted her demeanor from earlier as she rubbed a thumb along his cheek. "And definitely some rest in a proper bed. These bags aren't flattering at all under your pretty eyes."

"Maria? What are you doing? I thought we were gonna put him with the rest of the other pets." Stefan's tone turned sharper, clearly not amused with the idea of keeping a house pet in their mansion.

"Oh come, brother, can I not give our new guest some comfort?" The woman gently took hold of the boy's hand, noting the redness and bruises on his wrist. "Come along, little one." She led him out of the room with a warm and gentle hand towards the bathroom, the boy trying not to look in awe at the lavish mansion hallway they walked down.

“This is the public wing,” Maria explained as they walked. “This is where we entertain guests, throw balls, conduct business.” And threaten people who owed them money, she finished in her head.

They passed two security guards on the way, both silent and shadowed. They both nodded to Maria as they passed, and she waved them off, signalling that everything was okay. The boy watched them with big, hollow eyes, before refastening his gaze to the carpet.

“And this,” Maria continued like she had never stopped, “is the private wing.” They stopped in front of a pair of oak doors, and they opened soundlessly when she pushed.

There was a lot to see; rich colors, expensive furnishings, decorative rugs and soft throws. But Maria just took the boy’s shoulder and guided him with her to the upstairs bathroom.

He was trembling when they stopped.

"There there, let's get you in the bath, little one." Maria sat on the edge of the tub and turned the dial on the faucet. Warm, steamy water rushed out and quickly filled the marble bath.

"Can you take your clothes off for me?" She gave a gentle smile, and her eyes were warm, dimples showing in olive skin. "We need to get you cleaned up. Then I’ll have one of the kitchen staff bring us something to eat.”

His stomach growled audibly at the mention of food, and the boy’s eyes widened in horror at the sound. But Maria only shook her head.

“Clothes now, food soon,” she murmured, and he nodded quickly and stiffly began pulling his clothes off. “Can you talk, hmm?” The question was gentle, but the boy still flinched, ducked his head. Maria watched him carefully, and her eyes were serious under the warmth.

He seemed to be waiting for something, stuck halfway with one arm in his shirt and one out. They were cheap clothes, Maria noted with displeasure; dirty and ill-fitted. She would get him something nicer soon, perhaps something loose and silky…

"How about you tell me your name? Don't be shy, little bird." Maria ran a hand along his dark curls gently as she helped guide the shirt over his head properly. Then she offered a hand, and the boy hesitated, but still held on tightly as she helped him into the warm tub. The water made him tense up as goosebumps travelled up his bare skin, but he settled in the tub without a fuss.

"I bet you have a beautiful name, and a beautiful voice too." She tried to coax him with a tender tone as she slid a hand down his back with a washcloth, wiping off a sheet of dirt and blood.

"Todd needs to take better care of his things, huh." It wasn’t really a question, and the boy’s big eyes followed her hands as she reached up to stroke his cheek, tenderly tracing across a yellowing bruise. “But then… you’re not Todd’s anymore, are you.” The boy shivered, dropped his eyes, and Maria just smiled faintly.

He didn’t seem inclined to speak; in fact, the boy still looked utterly terrified, and Maria’s smile faded.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s going to be better here,” she promised gently. More silence. “Come on, then,” she added after a moment. “Time to clean you up. You're doing great, pumpkin. Can you lift your arms so I can wash you down?" She took a shower sponge and pressed it against the bruises on his back, (which was pretty much the entirety of it) gently getting all the dirt and caked on blood off.

Soon, the bath water turned to an ugly brownish-grey.

“Hair next,” she said, and the boy flinched. Maria frowned, but she just squirted the shampoo onto her hands and gently instructed the boy to lie back. “There you go, good.” His hair was oily and dirty, and Maria washed it twice, being careful of the knots and tangles. When it was done she had him sit up, and then offered a hand to help him out of the bathtub. "Oh, sweet thing. You're shivering like a kitten." She wrapped Stefan's heavy robe around him, easily burying the boy in soft and fluffy material.

He looked younger like that, somehow; fresh-faced and shivering, despite the bruises and bloodied lip.

"There, now I can see your handsome face better." She pushed his wet hair past his eyes, still tired and dark. "Let's get you dressed and then we can get you fed. We have lots of fruit and sweets for good boys like you." A hand grabbed his as she led him out to the foyer, where a fresh change of clothes were already set out by the servants.

"I can take it from here, if you want." Stefan's voice came from behind them, and the boy jumped, earning a chuckle from the giant man. "He didn't give you trouble, did he?"

Maria just laughed. “Trouble? From this one?” She shook her head, reached out to gently pet the boy’s wet curls. “You might as well expect trouble from a skittish puppy.”

"That's good at least. He still hasn't spoken, has he?" The question was directed to his sibling, but the pet shrunk down at his tone as Stefan walked over with a clean set of clothes in hand.

He was holding out the silky bottoms in front of the boy, expecting him to step in them. "Come on buddy, one foot first, then the other."

Beside him, Maria raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to keep a pet in the manor? You were grouchy about it.”

Stefan huffed, didn’t meet her eyes. “Don’t buy too much into it,” he muttered. Then, to the pet, “You, in the pants, come on. Hold on to me if you have to.”

The boy only looked at the larger man with terror in his eyes, but he reached out with a shaking hand to steady himself against Stefan’s shoulder, then clumsily stepped into the pants.

In the end, the boy was swimming in the clothes. The shirt hung off of his skinny frame, slipping down one shoulder to showcase delicate collarbones and the ring of bruises around his neck.

“Poor thing,” Maria murmured. “Stefan, love, would you ask the kitchen staff to send something up to eat? Something light on his stomach?”

"Some fruit and oatmeal sounds nice doesn't it?" Stefan rang the bell on the wall, signaling the servants to come up. "But I would like him to ask for the food himself."

The boy looked up with wide eyes as a pitiful whine came out of his throat. Nonononono please… don't make me talk.

"Stefan, you can't ask him to do that, he hasn't spoken a word since he's been here." Maria wrapped her arms around the shaking boy, stilling him as she ran her fingers past his curls more. "We'll work on getting him to talk later, right now he needs to eat."

The boy only trembled in her arms, eyes darting fearfully between Stefan and the floor. He didn’t understand what was going on. These two were strange; the woman had been gentle with him so far, but Gabriel knew that it wouldn’t last for long. And the man… the man frightened him. These two had frightened his Master - or, his former Master, now.

The servants came in silently as Stefan ordered dinner for the boy. “Stefan, I’m going to take him upstairs,” she murmured. “Meet us there?” She waited for a nod, before gently steering the boy out of the room.

He still wouldn’t look up at her. His wrist was limp where she held his hand, and every time she reached out to steady him, he would flinch away minutely before going still. Maria was careful not to let her calm demeanor falter, but her lips thinned just a little as the extent of the boy’s treatment. He really did act like a beaten dog, head-shy and scared out of his mind.

She got him upstairs, and for a moment, she hesitated between the small, private living room or one of the spare bedrooms. Beside her, the boy’s eyes drifted down the hall, past open doors, to one of the beds - his eyes fastened on it, and he immediately went pale.

“No no, hey,” Maria murmured quickly. “This way, sweetheart.” She pulled him along gently, and it took a few moments, but the stricken, horrified expression eventually shuttered and dimmed. “Here we go, sit.”

She tried to steer him to the couch, but the boy dropped like a stone at the command to sit. He folded to his knees on the plush carpet, and then he huddled there, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I - hmm.” Maria opened her mouth, hesitated, thought better of it. Instead of objecting, she slid around him and sunk onto the couch herself. The position put them at a considerable height difference, but the boy only shied away at her movement and then froze.

Neither of them moved for a long moment, but soon Stefan came upstairs with a silver tray of food. Golden pineapple slices, ruby red cherries, and juicy strawberries adorned the plate, and a large bowl of oatmeal sat in the center of it all. A swirl of maple syrup in it, like liquid amber made the food look so good. Off to the side was a tall glass of a weird brown liquid that bubbled and fizzed and popped.

"Hey there bud, we have food for you." The tall man smiled and set it down on the coffee table. Maria beckoned him to sit as well while her brother got on the other side of the white velvet couch. "Good boys use the furniture here, don't worry."

"That's right, so come up here so we can get some food in that stomach of yours." Stefan's voice was much more soft than it was downstairs, which either made the boy less scared or more uneasy, which seemed like the latter was happening.

“We should send for one of the doctors, tomorrow,” Maria said, mostly ignoring the quiet panic that the boy was having.

The boy knew that pets didn’t belong on the furniture. He had been punished for this before, a snapped backhand to the face if he was lucky, a caning or burns if he wasn’t. Tears rose in his eyes as he hung there in confusion.

He wanted to be good. But good boys use the furniture here - that’s what his new Mistress had said. Was this a new test? Was this his first lesson, to be learned and re-learned until it stuck?

The boy sniffled softly. He wanted to be good. And to be good, this time… he had to do as he was told.

His trembling instantly worsened at the feeling of soft fabric under his hands. He slunk up into the couch like a wounded animal, and when Maria smiled and went to pat his hair again, the boy yelped and twisted his face away to avoid the slap.

“... Yikes.” Stefan raised an eyebrow, frowning at where the boy was still waiting for a blow that wasn’t coming.

“I’m not going to hit you, baby.” There’s an undeniable sadness in Maria’s voice. The boy’s face was still all scrunched up, but he peeled an eye open as the seconds kept ticking by and no slap came.

There were so many bruises staining his skin that Maria didn’t blame him.

"Let's just get him fed and off to bed, I'm too tired for this." Stefen set the platter down on the coffee table, right in front of the shaking boy.

The food smelled so good, and it looked like better food than he had ever had in his life. But… he still couldn't eat until…

"Go on hun, it's all for you." That same sweet voice beckoned him, urged him to take a bite, and he did.

He let a shaky hand pick up a slice of pineapple, yellow like the sun, and not unlike some of the bruises on his neck. He brought the sweet fruit to his teeth and bit down, letting a torrent of nectar burst out and into his mouth. It tasted so good, and soon, the whole platter was cleared of fruit. The bowl of oatmeal was next, and that proved to be a bigger challenge to him. His shaking hand couldn't grip the spoon very well and it kept falling back on the platter. Eventually Stefan had to take the spoon himself and feed the boy.

"You know, the last thing I thought I was going to do tonight was baby a pet too scared to feed himself oatmeal." The dark haired man had a slightly flippant tone, which made the boy fold in on himself even more.

"Brother, be nice to him, you can't blame him for being like this. I mean, who would want to be around a smelly oaf like Todd? I would be shaking too." Maria's voice was less flippant and more sarcastic, but it wasn't directed towards the boy.

"Whatever, let's just get this over with. Where should we put him?" Stefan fed him the last spoonful of oatmeal, his face now a tad messy from the hot cereal.

“I was thinking the second spare room,” Maria answered. “It’s a bit smaller, might be less overwhelming.”

"A spare bedroom? Have you lost your mind sis?" Stefan practically scoffed at the idea of a pet staying in one of their spare bedrooms. "Why not the garage?"

Maria went very still for a moment, and she looked across at her brother with something like disbelief in her eyes. Then her expression clouded and went dark.

“Why a bedroom? Because we live in a goddamn mansion, Stefan. We have so many extra rooms to spare. Also, and I feel like perhaps you have forgotten this, but…” Maria lifted a hand to rest carefully at the back of the boy’s neck, just over the crude collar. “This one isn’t for resale,” she reminded. “This one is ours, personally. So he stays in a bedroom, where he’s close, and he’s getting a custom collar tomorrow.” The words end of story were pretty clear, if unspoken.

"Whatever. He can stay here in a bedroom, but I don't want to be responsible for him." Stefan knew not to argue with his sis too much, he could attest that to the amount of bodies she's racked up alone.

“Fine, you don’t have to be here.” There was a healthy amount of displeasure in Maria’s voice - but then there was a soft whimper and a tremor from beside her, and she winced. The boy had gone ashen pale, and he was hugging his middle, shoulders hunched up around his ears. Maria grit her teeth and made a conscious effort to even out her tone.

“Stefan, if you’re not going to help, you are free to go. I am going to help little mouse here get settled.”

She didn’t wait for her brother’s response; instead she climbed off the couch, and then snapped her fingers gently and patted her thigh.

Clearly the boy had at least some proper training, because as soon as she clicked her fingers he was tripping over himself to follow. He gave Stefan a wide berth on the way past; the boy trembled in the man’s shadow, and there was a wide-eyed terror in his eyes that did not ease till they were out of the room.

Maria took the boy's hand once he was at her side. She led him down the private wing of the mansion and into a narrow hallway. A click of a doorknob, and the creaking of unoiled hinges made way for a small bedroom, though significantly nicer than the small boy thought possible for someone like him.

"This will be your room sweetheart. I hope it'll be ok for you. There is a small bathroom attached that you can use if you need." Maria's warm hands guided him to the bed, and pulled the satin covers back. "Now, you need your sleep. Off to bed with you, chop chop."

For the first time that night the boy hesitated, staring at the soft mattress. It was a test, surely. He couldn’t simply go to bed like he was their guest. He needed to be helpful, useful, good. He balked when his new Mistress gave him a gentle nudge towards the bed, and that made him whimper, because resistance of any kind was bad.

“What’s the matter, love?” Maria wasn’t impatient; not yet, anyway. She reached up to pet her fingers through his hair, and the boy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and quivered. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” she told him softly.

"P-please M-Mistress…" The boy finally whimpered out, though it was nearly too soft to hear. "I-I w-want, want to help, I don't want to be bad."

"Well there we are, I was beginning to think you couldn't talk at all." The woman smiled a bit. "Why don't you just lie down for me and then we'll talk about being useful tomorrow.”

The boy looked up with big, scared blue eyes at that, afraid that he’s done something wrong.

"Come on. Please?" She cupped his cheek gently. "If you be a good boy and go to sleep then I promise I'll give you something to help me with tomorrow. Sound fair?"

It took a moment, and the boy clearly didn’t trust her word. But in the end, his drive to obey her was stronger than his fear of the bed. He crawled in slowly, like the sheets might bite him, and curled into a little ball.

“There you go.” Maria smiled down at him proudly and tucked the blanket in around him. The fluffy blanket dwarfed the boy; he was curled up so small that the lump he made could have just been another fold of the blanket.

“Good boy, sweetheart,” Maria murmured, one last time. She could already tell that praise and encouragement would work wonders with this one. She stroked his soft curls away from his neck softly, and cooed inwardly at the way he shivered. “Sleep well.”

She left him like that, curled up small on the softest mattress he’d ever laid on, under the softest blanket he’d ever touched. A click of the bedroom lock was soon heard, and for a moment, the little boy felt a bit safer in his now brand new home.

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megalodon-writes · 4 years

Note

hello! i was wondering if i could get a matchup? i’m an (almost) 5’2” asian-American girl with brown eyes (my eyesight is really bad, so i wear contacts ) and really long brownish hair (lighter towards the bottom because i used to swim). i’m a very chaotic capricorn, an istp-t, and a slytherin. i’m perceived as rude or mean a lot of the time, so i’ve been trying to be a nicer person lately, but i’m very sensitive sometimes (i cry a lot and very easily haha). [1/3] 🌱💫

I like drawing and doodling, and i listen to all kinds of music depending on my mood (musical soundtracks are always a fun time though). my favorite subject is science, and i really don’t like history or writing. i try to be productive most of the time, but i do get distracted quickly. i really like tea of all kinds and i also like bubble tea if i’m in the mood. i like being around people who are kinda playfully rude/sarcastic; it makes my life a bit more fun [2/3] 🌱💫 I’m also very physically affectionate, though i do get embarrassed/flustered pretty easily. I don’t dislike any specific characters, preferably not someone from dateko, with the exception of futakuchi haha. Thank you so much!! :D [3/3] 🌱💫 (Also i just realized, i don’t think i specified in the first part, but i’m looking for a haikyuu!! matchup). Thanks again 💕

Ah you sound so sweet!! Yes of course you can have a matchup! Thank you sm for asking! I started writing for someone who was a lot nicer but instead I give you the assless ass himself…

I match you with Toru Oikawa!

First off, his nephew loves you. Plain and simple.

The look you and Oikawa would have together is *chefs kiss*

You first caught his attention because you kinda reminded him of Iwa

He knows you’re a bit sensitive, so he pays attention and when things are said that hurt you he changes the topic if you’re somewhere. But if you’re alone he’ll want to help you calm down by cuddling, kissing, whatever you need

This man loves tea… like wow. You two make it a goal to try every cup of tea you can get your hands on. Though he makes really good tea, so date nights are just as simple as tea and a movie

Rude/sarcastic? Listen, the two of you banter so much that people think you actually hate each other

Sometimes you can get a little worried about how many fangirls he’s got, but he makes sure everyone knows he’s taken by his girl.

One time at the end of the game you heard him scream your name and point up at you

Physical? Oh boy, when he’s by you he will constantly be touching you. Holding hands, arm around shoulders, hand on lower back… you name it

One of his favorite things to do is look you straight in the eye and lay his lips on your hand in a soft kiss

Especially in public he loves getting reactions out of you

He constantly walks around and will randomly pose to say ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ and then wink. - he’s def. laid on the couch before and sometimes you can’t resist so you do actually draw him

you give them to the team for blackmail

BONUS: he loves musical soundtracks and will belt all of them whether you want him to or not

#Oikawa #haikyuu

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nitewrighter · 5 years

Text

Of Blades and Broomsticks Pt. XV

I have no excuse. Have some Widowmaker in a Lestat cosplay.

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12, 13, 14

Read it on AO3 here.

----

“Seek me if you have the sight.”

“Meet me at the city gates if you’re in.”

“What’s out there?”

The inscription on the cell, the words of the self-proclaimed hunter, and Pharah’s own hunger for answers rang in her head all night, round and round, swapping off with each heartbeat in her ear. Thankfully the continuous exhaustion from trying to cobble Adlersbrunn together kept her from tossing and turning, but she remembered the witch hunter Gabriel in her dreams.

You wish to help me you will be walking a gray and dangerous path. Dogs guard flocks of sheep from wolves, but all dogs were wolves once.

If there is evil in our midst, to treat it with indifference is to enable its existence.

Pharah woke in the dark pre-dawn hours with a sour hunger in her bones. She looked around her bare room, then looked to her window. The moon was shining brightly that night, but the smoke staining the glass rendered it brownish yellow. Pharah wondered if the scent of smoke--not the smoke of a blacksmith forge, but the searing, sometimes sulfurous smoke of magic---would ever leave Adlersbrunn.

Still so much work to do... It would be very easy, she thought, To let him leave. To keep working on rebuilding the town here. To hope vagabonds like him are enough to keep whatever’s lurking out in the shadows at bay.

She furrowed her brow and looked to the adder stone she kept on her bedside table. No. She wouldn’t leave it like this. And she certainly wasn’t going to leave this situation in the hands of an excommunicated rogue. She rose to her feet, cleaned herself in her washbasin, put on her cleanest, strongest armor, and scrawled out a missive for her fellow guards, establishing the new chain of command in her absence. She sealed the missive with wax and set it on her table in the chamber of the captain of the guards. She wrote another, shorter, more sentimental letter for Torbjörn as well, and left that one on the desk of the castle’s man-at-arms. She packed a few days of supplies for herself and her horse, then mounted a bay rouncey and rode for the city gates.

True to his word, Jehoshaphat Maccrea of Helsing was waiting by the city gates in the mists of the following dawn. She didn’t like the smirk he gave her.

“I like you,” he said as they rode out of Adlersbrunn, leaving the stone of the city walls behind them and heading out into the surrounding farmland.

“And how did you decide that?” said Pharah.

“I like to think everyone’s got that hunger, that curiosity--it’d be too easy to lie down and let death take you otherwise, but few really follow it through to the end,” said Jesse.

“Would you still like me if I had chosen to stay behind?”

“Well I’d respect you, gotta respect anyone who protects their own, but it wouldn’t really matter if I liked you, would it? I’d be long gone.”

Pharah frowned a little, “I suppose so,” she said, looking off.

“I think it makes things more pleasant to like one’s traveling companion, don’t you?”

“I don’t have to like you,” said Pharah.

“It’d make things nicer if you did,” said Jesse with an easy smile.

“I wouldn’t be riding with an excommunicated scoundrel unless it meant making sure what happened to my city never happens again,” said Pharah.

“Scoundrel?” Jesse repeated.

“Yes, scoundrel. It sort of comes with the whole ‘excommunicated’ thing,” said Pharah.

“That is exactly the kind of black and white thinking that’s gonna get you killed out there,” said Jesse.

“I thought you said you’d probably die if you didn’t have me backing you up?” said Pharah.

“I probably would,” Jesse conceded.

“That’s morbid,” said Pharah as they rode past a pumpkin patch. She wondered if it was the one they found the blood in.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to be as honest as I can with you?” said Jesse.

Pharah furrowed her brow and readjusted herself in her saddle.

“This is why I don’t have to like you,” said Pharah, looking straight forward as they rode.

“That’s why I like you,” said Jesse with a smirk. She didn’t like that smirk.

-----

Mercy woke the morning after the banquet in a haze of half-sleep. The moans coming from the courtyard of the monastery from the cultists’ revelries lasted into the gray light of dawn. She did her best to try and push what was going on to the back of her consciousness, to treat it like the night birds of the woods or the wind blowing through the trees, but she knew the forests of Adlersbrunn were far behind her now.

She rose up to a seated position in bed and looked out her window. A part of her was regretting leaving such a remote sanctuary as this, especially with so much still to learn from its library, but at the same time, the previous night had confirmed her feelings that she didn’t really have a place here. The monastery had the feel of a swirling vortex, like the dark portals Zenyatta could summon--and the flame of creation within her thrashed against that void like a wild bird caged. She washed and dressed herself, then proceeded to the library of the monastery for one last look through for anything that might help her better understand the Flame of Creation--a long shot, in a temple to the void, but a shot worth making all the same.

Her perusing though the shelves of the library was half-distracted by her own plans for the journey. She knew she and Genji had agreed to go west, and the Monastery sat on some grim black sea cliffs that.. treacherous as they were, would at least provide a decent amount of visual reference of the area for them to make significant headway in their journey--easier than wandering through the woods, at least. She decided would swing by the refectory for some supplies for their journey when she next met up with Genji. She wondered if he would want human food of if he would prefer to take the form of a sparrowhawk and just swoop up whatever unfortunate creature he could for convenience’s sake. He was certainly strong enough to help carry some supplies--no, no, he was her protector, not her porter. She would carry her pack for herself.

She was distractedly looking at the illustration in some text of what was supposedly erotic Enochian poetry but just looked like a mass of wings and eyes and circles when Junkenstein suddenly stumbled, swaying as he brought himself to his full height.

Oh that’s right, she thought, with a brief beat of ‘Oh gods, what’s going to happen,’ He was at the banquet too.

“Hoo!” Junkenstein stretched his arms above his head, “What a night!”

Mercy bit the inside of her lip and smiled a little as he walked over. A bit relieved that this was another instance in which she could trust Junkenstein to be Junkenstein.

“You enjoyed the banquet?” said Mercy, glancing up.

“Well that was... anthropologically fascinating. Not a religious man myself but... I understand the appeal.”

Mercy just grinned. “How did they take to your creation?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Oh they like him. I got so much data on his...” Junkenstein cleared his throat, “Social capabilities.”

“Really?” said Mercy.

“Well they aren’t picky about tentacles, so I imagine there’s not a whole lot they are picky about,” said Junkenstein, “And if he has the approval of old Squidface, they’re all over him.”

“Well that’s good,” said Mercy, “I do worry about him... I suppose I worry about all of us having a place in this world...”

“I had to shovel some of them off of him this morning,” said Junkenstein, “Tragically he rolled over on one but, y’know with all the stabbing they do, they don’t get all that upset about that sort of stuff.”

“You still want to leave with us?” said Mercy.

“I told you, you wouldn’t last a second without us,” said Junkenstein, smiling, “Just... don’t mind me if I’m walking funny for the next few days. Well.. funnier than usual.” Junkenstein paused, “You and the demon took off soon as the meal was over, didn’t you?”

“Well after all the excitement back in Adlersbrunn, I didn’t really have the energy for all that revelry,” said Mercy.

“Right, and you certainly weren’t sneaking off for some moments of privacy with the demon you keep insisting to me that you can’t trust.”

“He was just making sure I made it back safely to my chambers,” said Mercy, folding her arms.

“Suuuuuure,” said Junkenstein with a wink.

“He was!” said Mercy.

“Nothing happened, I mean--I was covering my face and he kissed my knuckles but that was it. We went to bed---or I went to bed and he... I don’t know. He just flies off at night sometimes. Maybe he turned into a wolf and ate some rabbits or something.”

“You’re joking,” said Junkenstein.

“Look, my cat broke a tea leaf pot, we worked out a deal, he held up his end of the deal, and I spat some blood into his mouth so he wouldn’t die, that doesn’t mean we’re soulmates--”

“Conveniently leaving out the dramatic rescue (with help from yours truly, of course), riding him in dragon form out of the city---”

“Sprouting wings...” Mercy admitted.

“Sprouting wings!” Junkenstein pointed an accusing finger at her, “Not to mention all the dancing by the light of the cultist fires---”

“What is your point, Jamison?”

“You’re in deep, Gramercy. I know you. You make a point of not getting in deep with anyone, and as your friend I think I have a responsibility to let you know when you are a lot more emotionally involved with someone than you’re telling yourself you are---especially when, as you said, we may have broken something, we may be kicking off something big that none of us has any control over. And I think we should all be on the same page if we’re going to be traveling together---”

He was cut off by the sound of the door opening, not with the usual grunting of whoever was pushing it open. Both Mercy and Junkenstein looked up to see Zenyatta at the doorway of the library. He hadn’t even pushed on the door, but it had opened for him. Perhaps the stone of this monastery obeyed him just as loyally as any of the cultists.

“Witch,” Zenyatta spoke to Mercy, the tentacles of his face slowly shifting with thought, “A word?”

Mercy looked at Junkenstein.

“Don’t let me hold you up,” said Junkenstein with a shrug, “I’ll keep making the preparations.”

Mercy nodded and walked out of the library.

-----

“So you and Genji are departing?” said Zenyatta as they walked on the cliffs outside the monastery, the white waves and green brackish water crashing on the black rocks below.

“With your permission, of course,” said Mercy, “Genji is my protector, but he was your student before that. I would hate to undermine that. And it is nice to have a place to stay where I’m not too worried of being burned at the stake. But seeing as I am not a cultist myself I don’t want to impose too much on your hospitality.”

“You have my permission--” said Zenyatta, “There are few places you or Genji could travel in this plane that I wouldn’t know where you were.”

A long pause passed between them.

“Was there something in particular you wished to discuss?” asked Mercy.

“Earlier this morning I asked Genji a few questions about the nature of your relationship---what his plans for the future were. He stated that, as payment for his protection, you would give him your first-born.”

“...That was our deal, yes,” said Mercy, pausing to pick some samphire from a cleft in one of the black rocks.

“And are you aware that I have known the Goddess Satya for longer than mankind has walked the earth? And you can assume, thusly, that I was there when we both gathered our first worshippers?”

“I... I can assume that, yes,” said Mercy.

“And as such I am aware of both the abilities and the physical limitations of those who bear Satya’s flame of creation,” said Zenyatta. His voice deepened and suddenly seemed to surge around her like water , “No seed of man can flourish in a field of fire.”

Another long pause passed before Mercy drew herself to her full height.

“Have you told Genji?” she asked calmly.

“That you cannot give him a first-born? No. No, I haven’t,” said Zenyatta, looking out to the ocean, “I am his teacher, but I find some of the hardest lessons are the ones he must learn on his own. I suggest you break the news to him. Do it on your own terms while you still can.”

“I will,” said Mercy.

“Will you?” Zenyatta’s tentacles tensed.

“The only reason I lied in the first place was because--well, I suppose since he was a demon, I assumed he wouldn’t keep his word, so there was no more harm in me not keeping mine. But he saved my life, he protected me, true to his word. So I will tell him,” she bit the inside of her lip, “When the time’s right.”

“Do you fear his wrath?” said Zenyatta.

“I don’t know,” said Mercy, “He’s always going on about how dangerous he is, and his swift and mighty sword but...” Mercy huffed, “I think I fear hurting him, more--but---that’s silly, isn’t it? I mean, isn’t it more horrible of him to want a newborn baby? He’s probably going to--to-eat it or something, isn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t eat it,” said Zenyatta.

“You know why he wants one?” said Mercy.

“I do,” said Zenyatta.

“You must tell me what for!” said Mercy.

“That is for him to tell you,” said Zenyatta, “Just as this is for you to tell him.”

“For an all-knowing god, that isn’t very helpful,” said Mercy, folding her arms.

“As is the case with most gods, ‘All-knowing’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘helpful,’” said Zenyatta.

Mercy heard a screech and turned her head to see a handsome silvery skua diving amongst the waves. It wheeled in the white foam, then seemed to catch sight of them and swoop toward them with a cry. The skua swept in overhead, turned in a somersault, and then shape-shifted into a scarred man in black and purple cultist robes, landing lightly on his feet.

“I was wondering where you two were!” said Genji, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ve missed the brisk sea air of your monastery, Master, it saddens me to leave it. But the world calls me--does it not call you, Witch?”

“There is a lot to learn out there,” said Mercy.

“If you have a journey, you have a journey,” said Zenyatta, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You will always have a place here.”

“Thank you, Master,” said Genji, before smiling and looking at Mercy, “And what of you, Witch? Are you ready to leave as well?”

Mercy tucked her hair back and found she was gripping the samphire she had plucked with white knuckles, “I--yes--yes I am,” she said, looking up at Genji.

----

“Remind me again, the point of this,” said Gabriel as he and Moira stood in an ornate septagonal chamber. The chamber had six mirrors, one on each wall, with the exception of the wall containing the door they had just walked through to enter.

“You now walk a line between two worlds, Gabriel,” said Moira, walking to the mirror closest to them, “If we are to free you from the witch’s magic, we will need the help of others who walk that same line.”

Gabriel would have frowned if his pumpkin head was capable of any other expression.

“We’re bringing more demons into this?” said Gabriel, “More damned?”

“If the flame of creation is ignited and spreading in the mortal world, then war is coming. A war between the seen and unseen. We will need allies,” said Moira.

“I was already fighting that war,” said Gabriel.

“You were a child digging a line in a sand to catch the waves washing in amongst his ankles. The tide is coming in now,” said Moira, putting a hand to the glass, “I doubt your god is on your side now, so you will have to make do with me.”

The glass seemed to shift and melt under her touch, their reflections dissolving into darkness and mist. Moira held out her other hand to him and he took it, and they both took a few brisk steps through. There was a sound like the last bits of water in a tub rushing down the drain, and then a brief dipping sensation, like reaching the bottom of the stairs, expecting floor, and finding there was another stair, and then they found themselves on a stone threshold in a high-ceilinged stone room. There was a guard slumped against the wall, dressed in a fine uniform of black velvet and partially leaning on his halberd like a drunkard on a lamppost. He shook himself up to attention as Gabriel’s boots thudded clumsily on the stone floor and he flinched hard at the sight of Moira.

“Oh merde--” he drew a horn from the interior of his cloak and blew it in a stumbling fanfare. Four other guards suddenly charged into the room, halberds at the ready and looked genuinely stunned at the appearance of Moira and Gabriel. He had a corpse-like scent hanging about him that Gabriel thought should bother him more than it did. He noticed his sense of smell was a lot stronger now than it had been when he was alive. He didn’t like it. He couldn’t shut out senses to sleep--he wasn’t even sure if he could sleep anymore.

“Announce my arrival to your comtesse and have her gather her court,” said Moira.

“Th-The comtesse is indisposed---” the guard stammered.

“Do you know why she had this mirror in her chateau?” said Moira, stepping forward.

“Y-yes, Madame, but--”

“But? But what?”

There was a brief tense silence in the room.

“But... the last time you were here was, according to the records, 114 years ago,” said another guard.

“And?” said Moira, “Was there an expiration date set on the terms of her recognition of my sovereignty?”

“N-no, Madame--”

“Then have her gather her court,” said Moira.

“You heard our honored guest,” said another voice, smoky and smirking. There was a purple flash and guards parted to reveal a woman in an armored doublet and a black hood. She seemed to be fussing with the last buckles of her doublet, and a few stray strands of dark hair hung out from under her hood, as if she had just been roused from bed. Human. Gabriel could smell it on her, warm, and distinct from the rest of the guards. He could smell a faint stench of death on her too, but it clung to her skin like a lover. He could smell magic on her, too, but not like the Witch, more like the metallic smell that issued off of his own adder stone after he had it for years.

“Who are you?” said Moira.

“I serve the comtesse. Come with me,” said the woman, walking out of the room. Moira and Gabriel followed after,

“You would think the comtesse would keep her estate in better condition,” murmured Moira, “Guards in disarray... food lying around...”

All of the guards escorting them toward the throne room suddenly stopped. The woman glanced over her shoulder at Moira and Gabriel.

“What?” said Moira.

One of the guards leaned close to the hooded woman, “What would you have us do, Spymaster?”

The spymaster shrugged, “She is visiting royalty. Let her have her words. They reflect more on her than on me. Just continue escorting our guests to the throne room.”

“Spymaster?” Moira repeated, incredulously, “Since when would the comtesse keep a human spymaster?!”

“We’re very progressive here,” said the spymaster, a smile in her voice.

There was a brief second where Moira’s eyes flashed yellow, cruel and dead like ghost lights, and a few white streaks suddenly threaded through her hair, but she seemed to regain her composure and her eyes and hair returned to normal.

“Hard to keep the glamour up when you’re mad, huh?” said the spymaster, as they continued down the halls.

“I know saplings older than you, little insect,” Moira scowled.

“Invite them to court, then,” said the Spymaster, pushing open two massive doors into a throne room.

The comtesse sat on a throne in the center of the room, a guard at either side of her. Her skin was deathly white, her lips were red and wet, her eyes were yellow as an owl’s, and her black hair was tied back in a loose and low ponytail in a red velvet ribbon. She wore a loose white shirt, the frilled collar of it plunging to her sternum, and high-waisted black trousers. She leaned her head against the knuckles of her hand, looking like all patience was already exhausted by the time court was called.

“Queen Máire. It has been some time,” said the comtesse, not making any movement to rise from her seat as the spymaster took her place at her side.

“Comtesse Amélie,” Moira bowed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Amélie.

“Would that I could have called in happier times, comtesse,” Moira started.

“Only had 114 years,” the spymaster whispered into the comtesse’s ear and the comtesse snickered.

Moira briefly bristled but continued, ignoring the slight. “I’m sure by now you have already heard of the events at Adlersbrunn,” she said.

“Yes,” said the Comtesse, “My spymaster is very good at keeping me abreast of the news of the world.”

“Then you know that that news shall spread. It spreads faster in shadows but soon, more mortal ears will hear of it, and more weapons will be drawn against us,” Moira gestured at Gabriel, “I have with me the first casualty of the war to come--bound by magic in servitude to a human, denied the dignity of death.”

“So the pumpkin’s not a fashion choice?” said the spymaster, leaning against the throne.

“This is a perversion of what magic is supposed to be!” said Moira, gesturing at Gabriel, “This is pain and suffering, wrought by human hands!”

Thanks, thought Gabriel, who would have rolled his eyes if his pumpkin head allowed it.

“And it was wrought by the flame of creation,” said Moira, “Something never meant for a human to wield!”

The comtesse sat up in her seat slightly, apparently more interested now. “The flame of creation hasn’t been snuffed out?”

“It nearly was, but apparently it has been passed down, from human witch to human witch,” said Moira, “I can see through the eyes of crow and hare and hound, but you, comtesse, have far more eyes on wings. If the flame of creation is spreading through the world, then that means this world will re-make itself. It means that war is coming. And I would ask for your allegiance in the war that is to come. Lend me your eyes. Join your strength with mine, and we may survive it.”

The comtesse kept a steady, yellow-eyed look at Moira and Gabriel, and then sat up in her seat slightly. She put a hand on the shoulder of her spymaster and they shared a few whispers. The spymaster shook her head and the comtesse seemed thoughtful for a few seconds, then whispered something more to the spymaster. The spymaster gave a shrugging concession and the comtesse seemed satisfied before turning her attention back to Moira and Gabriel.

“I do not deny that a war is coming, my Queen,” said the comtesse, sitting up in her seat in a bit more stately fashion, “However, my kind can endure through war, and it has endured by not drawing attention to itself. We will clean up the bodies, we will keep ourselves fed, perhaps even grow our ranks in the bloodshed that is to come, but only a few of my kind can even walk in daylight-and we have come to far more...” she glanced at her spymaster, “Symbiotic relations with the humans in our land rather than isolating ourselves. War may be coming, but I will not seek it. Not until it is fully necessary.”

“But our allegiance--” Moira started.

“Was one of non-aggression,” said the Comtesse, “I remember the terms well. But my duty is to my people, first and foremost. Surely your majesty understands that?”

“Of course,” said Moira through gritted teeth.

“Is there any other way I may be of service to you, your majesty?” asked the comtesse.

“No,” Moira’s voice was sharp and brittle.

“You are welcome to stay in the château for as long as--”

“I have my own estate,” said Moira, drawing herself up to her full height, “I thank you for your time.”

“I understand. Guards, see to it that her majesty finds her way back to the mirrorgate,” said the comtesse, “It’s been an honor, Queen Máire.”

“Lady Amélie,” Moira said with a bow before turning on her heel and walking out with Gabriel and the guards.

Gabriel didn’t say anything as they were guided back to the room with the mirror in it. And he found it prudent not to mention the streaks of white that where threading through Moira’s hair with fury as they walked. They stepped back through the mirror with little ceremony and after another stomach-turning trip through darkness, found themselves back in the septagonal room of Moira’s own underground queendom.

“Well...” said Gabriel folding his arms, “That was a wash.”

“It wasn’t,” said Moira, looking back in the mirror and inhaling to bring her hair back to its previous red shade.

“Please tell me we aren’t going to try the other five mirrors,” said Gabriel.

“No, not yet. I believe it should be very easy to convince the Comtesse to see our view of things,” said the Moira.

“She sounded pretty sure of herself back there,” said Gabriel.

“There’s more than one way to make your point,” said Moira, alighting a violet sphere of black magic in one hand.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” said Gabriel.

“I said I would help break the magic binding you, Gabriel,” said Moira, “I didn’t say you would like it.”

#gency #roadrat #spiderbyte #witch mercy au

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datarevived · 4 years

Text

-- Ⅲ : ʙᴇx

It had been three days since she arrived at the Tower.

The Warlock's voice still resting in the back of the Awokens’ mind, each time in passing the crowded Bazaar with hesitation. A stealth maneuver to remain unseen, unheard -- as she made her way to and fro the Courtyard. With few hours spent upon the Tower's rooftop, the past few days had been favored to feet resting upon dirt, taking the elevator down to the City where citizens just barely outmatched the presence of other Guardians.

Something was different about the air - its' touch more sincere than the crafted winds by Ghost piloted ships. The natural state of order carried between those who only had one life to live - their smiles more forgiving, while their work expressed an exhaustion more real than those who arrived back into the Tower with battered merit. In a way, something that she terribly missed... the emptiness that once rested upon her chest, now so full of unanswered questions.

An unapproved sense of responsibility... she didn't ask for, nor wished it.

" Ahhh~ "

With a blinking light, the tiny Ghost reveals itself to burden - welcomed by the sunrise across wooden canopy that surrounded the state of the city and its' preparation for new defenses. In some places, a wall that was already finished, while in others - parts that refused to fall since the beginning. Both citizen and Guardian alike, a mute coexistence that seemed more flavorful than those handled upon the Tower. It felt nicer here. More trustworthy. More real.

" Another stroll around the block? " the Ghost hums.

" Mm, " comes the quiet response. Still having yet attuned to the permanent company of ones' own Ghost. It's reveal always something startling, yet... welcomed. Even if it had the habit to talk too much.

" I'm surprised you haven't memorized the place yet. To whom are we paying a visit to today? "

A subtle hint in her active route of avoiding visits... one in particular, that weighed both on she and her Ghost's fate. Three days in, and she'd hardly spoken back to Hawthorne since getting settled. Hadn't really spoken to anyone, aside from her Ghost. Let alone, returned to Ikora. How upset she'd be if she decided to avoid the woman all together, she wonders. For how long would she be able to avoid the Vanguard's stare, knowing full well they could see her light?

" There's a tent I wanted to visit... " the Awoken says, pausing in her step within the City as she turned to her Ghost. " It smelled really good yesterday, almost like the Ramen place Hawthorne took us... but it wasn't noodles. "

" Good as in...? " her Ghost tilts, questionable expression dotted upon its' optic.

" I think I overheard someone use the term... ' curry '? " she ponders, lowering her gaze temporarily as she raises a hand to her chest. Violet brows furrowing in decision, her gaze then lifts to observe their surroundings and to which direction she'd remember such smells taking place. A bit further from the Tower, but still inward of the walls. " This way... I think. "

Upon gifted boots, her tracks follow in unison with several others. A frequent walkway between the markets that hung clothing from string and hand-held fruit in barrels. Ornaments that could be placed in jewelry displayed in sheered plastic cut outs, while suppliers stacked their wooden tables with revised weaponry - tweaks made to decommissioned wears. Trade made in other wears, or glimmer, or cheap pieces of gold from the Golden Age - the nostalgia to some older than several Wars and counting.

It wasn't until she by-passed the quiet corner of the market did the scent catch her nose in a hook -- its' flavor not yet rested in the air, but brewing still. The tent which had previously been opened yesterday to her knowledge, tied shut with a little white parchment resting upon knotted string.

Closed.

" I think we've shown up a bit too early, " her Ghost whirls, scanning the paper for confirmation before hovering back to the Awoken's side. " Maybe try again later? "

A disappointed furrow of ones' looks, the Guardian simply stands. The decision on whether to wait it out or not - she had already looped the place more than twice in the previous days. Nothing else having caught her eye in particular with the small set of glimmer she had been gifted. The only other thing on her list, the very subject she had been avoiding. They would have to go back to the Tower, and find Ikora.

" Heeey! "

" ...? "

" Heeeeeeey! You there, Guardian! "

A nervous chill rings down her back at the call, the womans' attention turning briefly from which the voice came. Somewhere further up the pathway, the shade of another being waving its' hand against the sun's rays, providing merely a silhouette to detail. Two yellow optics piercing against the distorted color of ones clothes - its shape getting closer and closer as it jogged towards she and her companion.

" Hey!, Sorry - I, whew- - I didn't know what else to, awh man - outta shape, uh, I didn't know what else to call you to get your attention, " the person speaks, its' mouth glowing in an orangish tint per every syllable spoken. Upon proper inspection - the being wasn’t even human, but something else. Some of which she had witnessed many and above those in the Tower. The ones that were known as Exo-Units. " I uh, saw ya - standin' here, looked like you were gonna leave, " it continues, briefly crouching its knees in as hands rested upon its' kneecaps, a mechanical pant wheezing between its' speech. " This place, it opens. In uh.. Screws, Screws! What time is it? "

As on call, another flicker of light ignites to the scene. A strange looking Ghost if Selene ever did see one - its' shape much rounder than the shell upon her very own. Like a chubby side-ways cross, if the cross's edges were insanely curved. Its' colors, an assortment of teal on yellow - not the most... coordinated of schemes. A bit hard to look at, actually.

" ɪᴛ ɪs ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ 𝟿:𝟻𝟹, " it's voice chirps. It's tone far more mechanical than any Ghost thus observed, as if running through a Golden Age computer tech. Something that was truly more machine than sentient being. Causing that of Selene and her own Ghost to exchange glances before turning back to the Exo in question.

" Seven minutes - probably six, really - she's always out here untying the knot a minute early, " the Exo explained, waving a hand. " Stick around, promise its' worth it. I'll even - I pay your way. I pay your way, and you - ugh - you tell me about yourself. Nice chat - none the pervy stuff. Not into it -- " another wave, followed by the attempt of standing back at ones' full height, " But just a friendly, chat with a stranger. No strange stuff. Except... well... "

" ʜᴇ ʜᴀs -- ɴ𝟶 ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs, " the strange Ghost clicks, an unintentional emphasis on the ' no ', but it seems to hurt the others' feelings all the same.

" Auwh, come on, Screws! " the Exo cried, shaking its' head in defeat. " Why ya' gotta do that?! "

" I uh... " Selene starts, a perplexed blink as she stared at the two, " I don't... have any friends either? So maybe we can... work somethin' out... “

" Honestly, it seems one of you have a few screws' loose, " her Ghost retorts, whirling between the space of the other two beings.

" Well, he is my missing link, " the Exo snorts, motioning towards its' Ghost. " A basket case without'm. Hence the name - eh? Eh? "

" His... name is ' Screws '? " the Awoken squints.

" And I'm BEX! Nice to meet'ya! " the Exo grins, jabbing a hand in greeting. An awkward pause in between before Selene reaches out to return the favor; its’ grip seemingly more eager than anticipated as she felt her head spin at the force. " One of the most handsome Exo's in town! "

" H-Handsome --? " Selene repeats, shaking her head to cease the spinning. She offers the other an examining glance before pulling words together. What little of its’ frame she could tell... it was something between a brownish bronze with silver. " I suppose you're... not too bad to look at. “

" You suppose?! “ comes the exclamation, another sudden look of defeat grazed upon the Exo’s features. " Y'know what, just take'm, " he pushes his Ghost, Screws, over towards her, " You'll get along g r e a t. "

" Hey, wait a minute...! No, no! This ones' mine, " the other Ghost retaliated, its shell then zooming between Selene and the floating oddity. A violent shake, as if trying a scare tactic from the nameless, the more colorful of the two merely stays in place - indifferent to the situation at hand.

" I don't... think I can even take someone elses' Ghost, " the Awoken speaks, the lack of confidence in her voice astute. This whole situation having got out of hand too quickly - all for the sake of trying new foods. All to be interrupted by the rattle of ones' tent prying open - revealing a human woman, seemingly mid aged with a apron around her waist.

" I thought that was you who was causin' a ruckus, " she sighs, shaking her head towards the Exo. " You harrassin' this poor girl? You drivin' out my business. "

" No -- I'm increasing business, " Bex corrected, raising a single digit in accusation before walking over and assisting in the ties of the tent doors. " She was here before I was, anyway. About to walk away, too, if it wasn't for me. "

" I... well, yes... " Selene nods, her expression blank. " He's... also offered to pay my way. So I'll have the most expensive dish you have. "

" Hear that Chef? The most expens-- hey, wait a dang minute! That's not how to treat someone! " he turns his head mid sentence, another wail coming from his sensors. The Awoken in standing offering a small giggle in the sense - waving a hand of her own, " It's a joke, a joke... "

" Consider me feeling generous today, " the human woman scoffed, tying off the last string to reveal the few stools at a bar. " Ye' both can have whatever you want on the house. But you better bring back some new friends with wallets I can tamper in, " she turns toward Bex, a stoic scowl drift upon her face as she walked toward the back of the tent. A double unit, by the looks - half of its' width hidden behind another layer of fabric - the sounds of stirring pots and pans to be heard.

" Heard..." the Exo sighed, raising a hand behind his head in a scratch before looking back over toward his newly acquainted ' friend '. " Well? The waits' over, what're you standin' for? "

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

" Ah new Lihght? Dat's always fuhn," the Exo quirked a mechanical brow, still managing through a tuff of meat as he chewed. " I rehember when I firs woke up. "

" You do? " Selene questioned, having taken a break from her bowl. A quarter remains of curry sitting beneath spoons' edge as arms folded themselves across the countertop.

" Yeh - well, kinda, " Bex started, trying his damnest to finish the meal in tow before continuing. " As an Exo, kinda got a jail outta free card if you catch my drift. Went through the process of turnin' flesh to metal, body didn't wanna cooperate, failed transfer, yadda yadda, " he waves a hand, fingers wiggling at the thought. " I was suppose to have been dead, then and there. No flesh, no metal, no nada. But apparently - and this was news to everyone at that point, that the Traveler - handy dandy up there in the sky, can chose to bring back even the failed chaps' from Clovis's basement. Without the stinky rotting smell. "

" So you... died, trying to become an Exo, and then was brought back as... an Exo...? "

" Crazy, right? "

" But how did you... do you... I can't remember anything before hand, " Selene spoke, a tint of confusion in her voice. " How was it that you were able to remember something even before the Traveler.. "

" On-file documents. Somethin' the big ball didn't take into consideration, really. Kinda like a taboo, " Bex answered. Finishing the remains of his meal in a gulp, he exhaled a content burp before turning in his seat toward the woman. A shrug of shoulders as he clasps fingers together in a hutched position. " S'why Screws sounds a little funny, actually. Apparently the computers didn't approve of me tamperin' with the tech of where I woke up. Managed to get my stuff, but, other things - either already removed or too corrupted to tell. "

" The computer attacked your Ghost? "

" Not the computer, but the computer, yes. "

" I... sure, " Selene gave a single nod, knowing all too well that more questions would just send her further down the hole of insanity with this one. Perhaps she judged too soon of her own Ghost, it and its' chatty habits.

" I know you just said ye' don't know 'bout the past, but, what about you? What are you doing now? Have you been to the Tower? " the Exo then asks, tilting its head some. " They set ya' with a team? "

A team?

Right...

Hawthorne had briefly mentioned it when she was getting settled in. Fireteams -- groups that worked in favor of the Vanguard, doing patrol chores or strikes in high concentrated areas. Consisting from any combination of front line, be it Titan, Warlock or Hunters.

" I... I've been there, yeah. Met... Ikora? "

" Another Warlock? I'm a Warlock! " Bex grinned excitedly, quickly unraveling fingertips as he threw both hands in the air. " Not lucky enough to get under Ikora's perch, no no, but, a mentor all the same! "

" N-Not a Warlock, " Selene corrected, raising a small hand to settle the others' glee, “ Just, she's the only one I've talked to so far. Just, about... normal stuff... "

" Oh? Oh -- well, I mean, that's okay too. Gotta, figure out just what sorta tricks ye' got up yourself, y'know, " the Exo says, bringing back his hands into little light punching motions, the movement briefly twisting his stool to and back.

" Yeh know, betcha' a Hunter. You look it. Bet you got the skills for it too. "

" A Hunter, huh? "

" Oh, totally. Slim build, poker face, betcha' good with a dagger. We're already at like three check marks outta somethin' else. "

Tilting her head in curiosity, Selene returns the words with a shorten smile. The thought of being on the front lines still terrifying at the thought... but more along the lines of ones' confidence in her. Someone else who could see something she couldn't. Could he be trusted?

" That reminds me... I should probably get going, " the Awoken stirs, staring upon ones' reflection against the porcelain of the bowl before bringing her eyes back to height with yellow optics. " Thank you, for the meal. "

" No problem! " Bex offered another grin, hopping off his seat and extending a hand in assist. " Thank you for the company! S'really made my day. "

Despite having been tall enough to touch the ground from her seat, the Awoken accepts the temporary assistance in twisting out of her chair. The cooling touch of the Exo's frame unfamiliar to her as the two walk outside the tent. Chilling, yet... gentle.

" Y'know... if you're ever up in the Tower, " she starts, offering the Exo a glance before departing. " I'm... not a hard person to find. And if we're friends now, then... it means we can hang out again, right? "

" So you're admitting that we're totally friends? " Bex confirmed, brows raising upward in a suave manner.

" I'm saying that it wouldn't hurt to have someone else to hang out with, " she scoffs, albeit while wearing a smile. The sudden twinkle of light igniting ones' Ghost back to view, the pallid texture of the Traveler twisting in offense. " Well, that wasn't very nice to say! You do know I hear nearly everything you say, right? That this is how this relationship is going to go? "

" What, you don't want more friends either? " she coos, cocking an eyebrow in teasing notion as she extends a finger in poke toward the Ghost. " We got a long ride, might as well make friends along the way, right? "

The Ghost hovered in the air, spinning its' optic back toward the Exo then back to its' original Guardian. An audible huff coming from its' speaker before dissipating back into the wind. Another chuckle is pardoned under Selene’s breath before turning eyes back towards Bex. The Exo remaining stand-still with unblinking features as if absent for words.

" I'll see you some day in the Tower, yeah? " Selene asks.

" If I don't see you back here first, " Bex smiled, motioning a thumb over his shoulder toward the tent. " There's still two whole meals you gotta try! "

#✦ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴ / drabble #destiny 2 #d2 short-story #destiny 2 rp #d2 rp #destiny short story

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calucadu · 5 years

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The Camping Trip, a Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia One Shot.

This is my piece for the @summerexplosionzine! I love going camping and I couldn’t this year so at least I still got the chance to experience it by writing this. I had so much fun writing it and I'm actually really proud and happy with the result! I hope you like it too ❤ It's a free zine full of incredible content and vibrant colours and I really recommend downloading it!

Summary: Kirishima, Bakugou and Uraraka go on a camping trip together!

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Kirishima Eijirou/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Uraraka Ochako.

Rating: Teen and up

Read on AO3

Or read below the cut

I feel like a little kid again as I kick my legs, enjoying being driven around. I’m in the back seat of Eijirou’s car, and he’s taking us to the campsite where we’re going to be spending the next day and night. We weren’t able to get more time off work, unfortunately, but I’m still looking forward to our small trip.

Since the redhead is driving, he has total control of the music being played. He brought a mixtape he’d made and is now blasting it at full volume while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the songs I know he picked for us. I know this because the first one that starts playing is Katsuki’s favourite.

The blond, who called shotgun weeks before our trip, gives an exasperated sigh as he looks at Eijirou before snorting and rolling his eyes. The redhead excitedly slaps his arm, trying to verbally encourage him to sing along with him. The other just looks away, hiding his mouth with his hand, which I know he’s doing because he’s trying to pretend he’s not actually smiling. I squeal, watching as his reflection blushes.

The next song that starts playing is a soft piano melody. The redhead adjusts his rear-view mirror to look at me cheekily before nudging Kat again.

“Hey, sing this one with me.”

“Hell no! This is one of those romantic slow ones. I ain’t singing shit.”

Ei chuckles, but clutches his heart dramatically, belting out the first few words of the lyrics. The blond groans audibly and shakes his head as he feigns having lost interest. The redhead persists, tilting his head towards Katsuki when traffic allows him to and singing romantically to our boyfriend.

“Shove off!” Comes his answer, pushing the other away gently.

Eijirou laughs just as the melody slows down again but continues intoning. “And you’re my sun and my moon, you’re my stars” I croon with it, since I know the song well. The redhead lifts his gaze and our eyes interlock through the reflection in the rear-view mirror. He smiles at me and I feel my heart swell in my chest.

The ballad ends with Katsuki threatening to go back home the moment we arrive if Eijirou plays another romantic song. The latter chuckles but puts another one of the blond’s favourites on to lighten the mood.

The rest of the drive goes by quickly enough. It’s not far anyway, and since it’s not a holiday there’s not much traffic. I spot the sign for the campsite when we’re still on the highway and I immediately start bouncing up and down in my seat excitedly. I’ve never been camping before, and if I recall correctly, neither has Eijirou. We both know Katsuki used to do it a lot with his parents when he was small, and when the redhead decided to surprise him with this nostalgia trip, neither of us missed the glint of happiness in the blond’s eyes. We knew just how important camping and hiking is for our little hothead, and how much he enjoys doing these sorts of things, so we planned this holiday for him. He helped us with the details of it, since he’s the one with experience, but now I’m as excited for the trip as he is. I know he worked hard on it so we could enjoy our first time and I’m very proud of him.

The campsite is gorgeous! The entrance is in the middle of the forest, but there’s a giant sign at the entryway, like in a film. I gape at the parked caravans in amazement as we drive by them. There are also cabins, but we drive past them as well, since we’re heading over to the area reserved for tents. They give you a spot in the middle of the woods and you can park your vehicle there. There are plenty of trees surrounding our section, isolating us from any potential neighbours – although they seem pretty far away so they won’t be much of a problem – and giving us a lot of shade.

The first thing Katsuki does when we arrive is set up his hammock. He lies on it as he watches us struggle to pitch the tent, smiling smugly and boasting about how easy his job was.

“You’re helping with this too!” Ei counters, going over the instructions again. He frowns as he reads. “After all, you’re supposed to be the one that’s good at this sort of thing.”

The canvas is a small four-person dome tent that was the Bakugous until their son decided to take off with it a couple years ago. It’s a bit battered and old because they used it a lot when Katsuki was younger and they took him on camping trips. It’s got a few holes here and there, but it still works perfectly. It’s not really visually appealing, since it’s a creamy sort of colour, but it’s supposed to be functional and practical, not pretty. It seems relatively easy to set up, even though both Eijirou and I are having trouble figuring it out.

Katsuki grumbles and hops off from the hammock, going over to us in two strides and extending his hand to ask for the instructions. The redhead clicks his tongue, frowning slightly as he gives them to him.

Turns out that even the blond finds setting the tent harder than he thought. He complains that it’s been a while since he last used it, and even then, he’d been a child and didn’t recall helping his parents, to which Eijirou remarks a low ‘what a surprise’ that Katsuki outright ignores. I manage to calm him down by pressing my lips lightly to his, and he immediately gets his act together, picking up the poles and instructing us on what to do.

We end up setting it up pretty quickly after that. It isn’t perfect – especially on my side, I don’t think I pulled the corner guyline as far as it could go, and I didn’t have enough force to put the pegs in properly – but it’ll do. Ei makes it steadier by hammering my loose pegs into the ground a bit better and then he smiles at me proudly.

“I knew we could do it!” He announces, tying the door flaps to the side neatly so the mesh entryway is open.

“Don’t do that, you’re going to let the bloody spiders in.” Katsuki scolds, coming over to quickly undo his knots.

Eijirou huffs, rolling his eyes lightly. “Whatever you say.”

“Of course it’s whatever I say. I’m the one with the experience.”

I stop their stupid bickering by asking them if they want to eat, which they gladly prefer to do. Lunch consists of the sandwiches we brought. We all made different types to share with each other, sort of like in a picnic. Katsuki eats his in his hammock, gently rocking himself in the shade. Ei tries to get him out of it – I suspect so he can have his turn – but the blond won’t budge. I eat my tuna fish, mayonnaise and sweetcorn sandwich sitting in the front seat of the car, fiddling with the radio while they’re distracted squabbling.

I feel so content just by listening to a low song play, the musical notes intermixing with the various sounds of nature. I can hear some insects buzzing in the background, and instead of finding it creepy or disgusting like always, I think it’s interesting. My eyes roam over the leaf shaped shades dancing on my legs as I dangle them out of the seat. Everything’s perfect.

We head out for our walk after lunch but not before Eijirou’s finished fussing about us. He always does this, and while I should probably be annoyed about it, it honestly makes my heart swell that he’s there to take care of us in his own way.

Kat and I are prone to getting sunburnt. Ei, on the other hand, easily tans. It’s only been half a day and he’s already a lovely brownish colour, his freckles showing thanks to the sun.

He’s overprotective of us, though, especially about this. He’s the one carrying the cream and applying coat after coat of it all over our skin, tenderly reminding us that it’s for our own good.

I don’t complain; it’s fun to watch Katsuki squirm as Eijirou rubs sun cream on his nose while saying “remember what happened last year?” until the blond finally gives in and stops struggling, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

And he got us hats for this trip too. Mine’s a pretty pastel pink sunhat and Katsuki’s is a rather tacky looking black cap, a skeleton on it probably with the only purpose of satisfying the blond. Ei insists we wear them before going on our walk and puts them on both of our heads after applying a generous amount of sun cream on us. He puts on his own ugly red cap and beams at us.

The redhead offers me his hand, which I of course take. He smiles at me as we stroll, watching as Katsuki quickly overtakes us, grumbling at us to hurry up.

The chirping of the birds mixed with the slight breeze rustling the leaves in the trees makes the walk all the nicer. It’s comforting to hear my other boyfriend treading hard in front of me. Kind of makes me feel like I’m not alone, that he’ll be there in case I need him. I know it’s stupid to think that, especially when I’m walking hand in hand with Ei, but I just feel complete when I’m with them.

I find that the trail is pretty simple. It’s not a long or hard walk by any means, so it’s a nice opportunity for us to relax as we enjoy nature. I amble at a leisurely pace and stop from time to time to have a better look at interesting insects and pretty plants. Eijirou sticks with me, maintaining an engaging conversation as Katsuki marches off on his own, glaring at us from time to time and complaining about how slow we are. I laugh it off because I know he’ll never really leave us behind.

My feet are a little sore by the time we get back. It’s obvious I’m not used to my mountain boots, so it’s comes as a relief when the redhead suggests we play in the little stream near the campsite.

We change into our swimming gear quickly and head over there. Ei is wearing those ridiculous lime swim trunks he likes so much. They’re flashy and tacky, but at least it makes him easier to spot when at the beach. Kat’s are a dark red, a white pattern all over them; and I’m wearing the pink and purple bikini they got me as a present for my last birthday.

It isn’t a long walk to the river, but as we make our way towards it, we cross by friendly people who wave at us and wish as a pleasant day. Eijirou and I answer back cheerly while Katsuki mumbles out a curt hello when the redhead remembers to nudge him in the ribs.

The area we finally decide to relax at is mainly in the shade, and it’s littered with big rocks. We’re far away from the families with kids and couples being all affectionate in public, so we’re in a relatively peaceful spot. I make my way over to one of the boulders and sit myself on it, taking my flipflops off to soak my sore feet in the cool water. A relieved sigh escapes my lips as the cold temperature soothes them.

The stream is nice, and the water is so clear that I can see the little insects and fish that live there play around and do their things. Sadly, their peace is violently disturbed by Ei and Kat, who jump in and start splashing around.

I would normally be annoyed, but I care too much for them to find their shenanigans anything but adorable and charming. The redhead howls in laughter as he chases the other around, trying to get him wet, but the blond is agile even in water and manages to not get drenched.

He goes over to where I am and threatens to use me as a shield. I shriek, playing along, until I have to actually cover my face because the redhead has decided that I’m worth sacrificing for the greater good.

It’s cute how they have fun. I pretend I’m above their childish playing, but I indulge myself and splash them too, which spurs them on. The three of us end up turning it into a competition to see who can wet the others the most and we scream and giggle as we run around.

We play, splash and laugh for what seems like hours until we get tired and go back to sitting on a rock big enough for the three of us. Ei intertwines our hands together and kisses me on the cheek lovingly before rubbing our noses together cutely. Kat pretends to be jealous and starts splashing him again, but the redhead laughs and pecks me on my lips before asking us if we’ve had enough.

Since I can’t feel my feet because of how cold the water is and Kat seems to be getting tired, we get out of the river and dry ourselves before heading back to the campsite. Ei talks excitedly about how lovely the day’s been and how pretty the sun is now that it’s setting as we walk, towels wrapped around our necks.

Katsuki made our dinner at home, which is a relief since by the time we get to our car and tent, the sky’s already dark. When we’d been preparing the trip, we’d gone over the equipment we would need, and found his parent’s old camping stove. He had complained bitterly about how much of a safety hazard it seemed and had forbidden Ei from even coming close to him while he was using it, if he decided to use it. Instead he’d chosen to bring a nice pasta salad that we could enjoy cold.

We take turns to grab a plate and sit in a circle this time; the hammock completely forgotten at this point. The meal is really nice, and unlike Kat’s usual cooking, it isn’t spicy. We devour it quickly and in silence, tired from all the fun we’d had all day.

After we’ve eaten and we’ve cleared the plates up, Ei picks up his guitar and sits on the ground in front of the tent. He strums his instrument, humming lightly to himself. I turn my head to watch him just as his head drops back and his eyes glance at the sky, a smile forming on his lips. He agilely moves his fingers of his left hand to form the chords he needs for his song, and immediately starts playing. His voice starts off low as he glances nervously between me and Katsuki.

Surprisingly, the blond doesn’t even click his tongue. He sits down next to him, his eyes fixed on the ground as he starts to sing along with him. It’s a song I don’t recognise, but it sounds lovely. It’s not slow but it isn’t fast paced either; the rhythm is gentle and sweet.

There’s something about the melody that raises goose bumps all over my arms and legs. It’s not a sad song, but I feel myself being moved by it nonetheless. It looks like they’re both quite fond of it, too, especially since the blond is singing along. It feels powerful for some reason I don’t understand, and, for a moment, I feel left out.

Ei and Kat are glancing at each other. They share this song and whatever memories they formed while listening to it the first few times they did. I’ve never heard it before. I don’t know anything about it.

It’s true that they started dating before they included me in their special relationship, and, sometimes, more often than not, and despite how hard they try to not make me feel like this, I feel weird. I feel like a stranger in their love. Not because they don’t love me – they do, and I know, I can tell – but because of their history together. They did so many things before I arrived that it makes me feel insecure. Like I don’t belong with them, like they’re better off without me.

I try not to let the sadness overcome me as I sit myself on the redhead’s other side. Clenching my fists against my legs I force a smile on my face and wait until they’ve finished.

“Chako.” Ei mutters, his eyes never leaving his guitar. He’s still strumming it, his movements slower and less fluid than before. “That’s the song I wrote for Katsuki. I wanted to confess to him with it.”

“But you never did.” The blond whispers.

“But I never did.” He chuckles, but it sounds dejected and wrong, like he forced himself to do it.

“It’s only ‘cause I did it first, dummy. Don’t get all sad and nostalgic on us.” Katsuki berates him, but his voice lacks his usual gruff tone, and instead just seems tired.

“Yeah. He’s right. And I ended up singing it to him a lot anyway. I don’t want you to pull that face ever again, Chako.”

“Wh… what face?” I stammer, trying to laugh it off.

“I saw you. You looked sad. I’m going to play it again, so you can listen to the lyrics.”

“Ei…” Katsuki warns him, his voice softer than before.

“But it’s okay, I wrote a song for you too.” The redhead whispers, locking his eyes with mine. The melody starts again and they both start singing.

It is about Katsuki. It never says his name, but now that I know the meaning behind it, I can tell it’s about how brave and strong he is, how he looks like he’s hard and undefeated on the outside, but he’s actually as human as the rest of us are. It speaks of how soft he is with the people he loves and how he’ll do whatever he can to make them happy, in his own way. Every word in the lyrics is beautifully arranged to make the most perfect song to describe the most perfect blond I know. Speaking of, when I manage to peel my eyes off of Eijirou, I spot tears running down Katsuki’s cheeks. He wipes them away discreetly, but we’ve already noticed the song brings out an emotion he tries to keep locked away.

The song slowly dies down and the redhead clears his throat before he starts a new one. This new melody is much more upbeat, but the lyrics are no less deep. It’s about a pretty face that doesn’t try to deceive you, because she’s as sweet as she looks; cute, simple and strong in her own way. It tells a story of how she saved two boys and how she never knew just what she meant to them. It’s beautiful, too, far prettier than I expected anything sang for me could be. Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time the song ends. Ei is looking at me expectantly while Kat is doing his best to avert his eyes.

“We kind of wrote it together.” The redhead mutters, a small smile on his face.

“He wrote it basically. It was also his idea. I just helped.”

“You called her pretty and insisted I added that into the song.” Ei teases him, nudgingly him gently in the ribs.

“Shut up!”

I can’t help myself and start laughing, closing my eyes to try and stop the emotions bubbling out of me. The tears can’t be halted at this point, but it’s okay, because I’m smiling despite them. Before I know it, I’m being pulled into a hug, and I feel overwhelmed by their warmth and love.

When I’ve finally calmed down enough, I ask them to let me go and they do, slowly releasing me from their embrace. Kat looks at me worriedly, but I reassure him that I’m fine with a sweet smile and he ruffles my hair lovingly. Ei picks the guitar again and positions himself once more to continue playing songs. This time he sings some classics and I try to keep up to him, but I can’t remember most of the lyrics, so I just hum along when I don’t. The blond sometimes sings too, but he prefers to look up at the sky and enjoy listening to us.

I mimic Katsuki and tilt my head up. The stars look lovely in the sky tonight. There’s just something in the atmosphere that makes me feel happy, blessed to be there with them and glad to be alive. The gentle music in the background, the lovely sparkling lights, the feeling of love and friendship and being with the people you can’t live without make me feel elated. I don’t want this to end.

“Do you think it’s going to be colder later tonight?” I ask a bit later, frowning as I gaze at the dark sky. I got lost in the songs and time flew by, and now it’s a little bit chilly.

Ei sets his guitar aside before moving closer to me and wrapping an arm over my shoulders. He pulls me in tightly, nuzzling me against his broad chest. “You’re not cold, are you?” He asks, worriedly.

I snuggle closer to him and shake my head. “I’m fine like this.”

“Good!” He hugs me closer to himself, and even invites Kat into the embrace as he whispers: “I’m having the best day!”

It doesn’t take us much longer to crawl into the tent. We’re tired and I can feel my own eyes closing. Once inside, we spread out our sleeping bags and mats, trying to decide how to lay them and where to sleep.

Katsu’s looking at his dark blue sleeping bag in disgust, pondering something. When he finally gives in to his thoughts, he sighs, letting it drop onto his lap.

“It’s going to be hot tonight. In the tent I mean.” He mutters, calmly.

Ei looks up at him, frowning. “So?”

“So, we won’t need these.” He answers back, sounding exasperated.

“What if it gets colder later on?” I ask, unzipping my red one.

The blond grumbles something under his breath before he picks his sleeping bag again and tosses it to me. I just look at him, watching as his eyebrows frown and his lip curls slightly.

“Just… fucking… understand me already or whatever.”

Ei laughs gently, crawling over to the other.

“You okay there, bud?”

“I… just… look. Let’s just sleep together.”

The redhead pulls away and looks at me with his ‘adoring Katsuki’ face. “He wants us to open the sleeping bags and use them like blankets.” He coos lovingly.

“Oh my god, that’s adorable! He’s so cute!”

“He is!”

“Shut up. I can hear you perfectly and it’s creepy.”

“You want to sleep with us so much, Katsuki?”

“Stop talking like that or I’ll change my mind!”

“Okay, okay!” I whisper, unzipping my sleeping bag completely and spreading it. “Let’s do it!”

“Alright!” Ei enthusiastically nearly yells as he forcefully unzips his. Kat does his very unenthusiastically, and still blushing. He avoids looking at us as he lies down next to me and spreads his sleeping bag over me.

“Wait.” I say, pulling his down a little bit and taking a closer look at it. “We could zip them together.”

“That’d be so cool! But is it possible with our sleeping bags?” Kiri asks, searching for his zipper.

It turns out it’s very possible and we link all of them together to form a blanket of sorts. Katsuki pushes me back so that I’m lying in the middle and tells Eijirou to hug me too. The redhead smiles and snuggles up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me towards him just slightly. The other grunts as I’m taken away from him but gets up just slightly to kiss me on the mouth and wish me a good night. He presses his lips to Eijirou’s too and turns the light off before going back to my side, where his arm goes to join the redhead’s at my waist.

Honestly, I’ve never been happier.

#bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #Kirishima Eijirou #the camping trip #summer explosion zine #summer explosion #bnha #my writing #my fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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defleurtradingco · 4 years

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Éclaire de la Lune- Honesty

(Previous: Heartache, Next: Home)

Queens always did turn out to be a bit of a drive from the company location. Not that he minded it. Traffic aside, it was a fairly peaceful drive.

Flushing Cemetery was Fortunato's destination.

He arrived, parked, and sat in the car for several minutes, listening to the city noises. They were distant. Cemeteries were like that, and he could never figure out why.

They were quieter, sometimes peaceful. Even if ghouls did tend to roam about the grounds by nightfall. And even if the entire property was surrounded by the bustling city.

Deep breath…

He got out of the car, wincing at the sunlight. Bright and cheery. A nice day in February. And still chilly. The snow had yet to melt, blanketing the lawn in white and speckling the trees.

For not visiting for almost a little over fourty years, it hadn't changed all that much. Maybe a new section here or there he didn't recall, or it being more crowded in general. With tombstones that is.

With a sigh he put his hands into his coat pockets and began walking.

It was...strange.

He felt cold, but it wasn't as sharp or as biting as he thought it'd be. That was the glamour doing its job. Allowing him to feel anything at all. Heat, cold, hunger, hurt and a whole myriad of other human things.

Just subdued.

As he found the winding path buried under snow that had been pushed aside by visitors, he looked at the stones he passed by.

He never did plan on ending up in a place like this. Death, quite frankly, terrified him. As it did anyone else. Mostly anyone else.

But he was beyond that. Especially now.

Now whether or not it was a curse or a blessing-

The lawn quickly became more elaborate and expensive looking, with upright tombs and large monuments lining the roads, decorated in flowers and pictures and tinsel and all sorts of things leftover from the holidays.

Some remained bare and weathered, which was to be expected.

Fortunato slowed to a stop, furrowing his brows as he came over to one monument covered in snow. He couldn't remember if this was the one.

He reached forward and brushed the snow and loose ice off of the face of the bronze plaque that rested on the granite. It had gone green long ago.

SERGEANT AMOU IVANOVICH DeFLEUR

1916 - 1951

A brave son, a loving father, a loyal friend.

A DeFleur in all but name.

N.Y.P.D 17th Precinct

His badge number was engraved towards the side.

Sergeant had such an odd ring to it. It sounded far too militaristic for the man. But it was a postmortem promotion.

It was such a sad day. The entire department had been there along with the family. Amou's daughter had just been born the morning of his death, and Kiryak didn't have enough money saved to give his son a proper burial after it all. A situation in which Fortunato was more than willing to foot the bill and then some.

He took care of his brother's wife, took in their child and taught her the ins and outs of the company (begrudgingly) along with his own son.

What a coward that one…

He never would have guessed Amou's daughter Madeline had it in her to run the company. Nor Solaina after her.

The sons turned out to be a disappointment.

Scowling, he let out a low hum. "You see how it is now? You wanted absolutely no part in this company and now you have taken it from me." Despite saying it like that, a part of him was relieved. Relieved in that he didn't have to carry such a burden anymore.

No one answered him.

"...Solaina may be like me in that she… is not very expressive of how she feels. But she is like you in every other way. It is infuriating."

A pair of birds landed on a tombstone nearby, noisily tweeting away.

Fortunato sucked in a breath and rolled his eyes a little. "...No matter… there is no one left to visit you. Not something I would prefer for myself." With a huff of finality he moved on, not looking back.

Amou wasn't who he had come to visit.

On another lawn nearby was a much smaller line of tombstones by a row of trees that had remained full, even in the winter time.

He moved down the aisle until he reached the right one, letting his shoulders drop.

His jaw was so tense. He'd hardly noticed.

KIRYAK IVANOVICH

1890 - 1977

It was so plain.

He told Fortunato over and over that he didn't want anything fancy. He wanted it to be simple.

And simple was what he had got.

If only he had let him buy him something a bit nicer. It looked like the tomb of some peasant.

Kiryak was more than that.

The cobra shifted his weight uneasily, almost as if he were nervous. Reminiscent of some child who waited anxiously to tell their parent something.

Kiryak was something like a father-figure in the short time he'd stayed with their family. Much warmer certainly than his own father. Much more patient.

And understanding.

"...I cleaned off your son's grave." He said, sounding a touch annoyed and like he'd done Kiryak some great service. "Yours I am surprised to see is not buried in snow like the others."

It was true. Kiryak's gravestone was oddly cleaner than the surrounding ones. Almost as if someone, or something, had kept it maintained.

"Things are so different now. Even from how I remember them to be not twenty or so years ago. Maybe a bit more.

The world is… different."

Now whether or not that was a good thing…

"But I am the same. Solaina says I cannot be anymore. I disagree. Do you have any idea what she decided my new name should be?"

He spoke about the documents, and the ridiculous name, and the new bakery and how it was something different. Somehow, the words came pouring through easily. He never was this talkative with anyone else, though, that could have simply been because he was alone.

He didn't think about it.

"I need to do something different… but I am afraid I don't know how.

You were always better at such things than I ever was." His Russian was more than a bit rusty, but he could get his point across.

And then his head fell blank.

What else to say? There wasn't much. He missed Kiryak terribly but he couldn't bring himself to actually say so. That felt too vulnerable, even if no one was watching or paying him any mind.

...or so he thought.

From behind the stone came a sudden meow.

"Huh?"

And then, following that meow came a chubby white cat with dark brownish gray splotches on its back and over its eye. And two floppy little ears with no tail.

It sat in front of the stone, looking up at the man before meowing again and coming forward to rub on his pant leg.

Fortunato took a step backwards, avoiding the cat all together. "What? Go on, shoo- go!"

The cat did not.

He pulled one hand out of his pocket and waved it away, but that didn't work either.

Maybe that was the signal that his time was up for the day.

"Fine. I will go then."

And again without hesitation, he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

The cat quickly followed and trotted behind him. Fortunato could hear the little sounds of paws in the snow.

Quite honestly, the cat reminded him of the one Kiryak used to keep at his apartment. The same kind of ears, similar coloring, same chubby face and no tail.

What were the odds?

The feline continued to pursue him all the way to his parked car. He got in, waited a moment and saw it sitting in the view of the mirror.

"Hmph." He let a cat chase him away? No one was going to hear about that one.

His thoughts inevitably turned towards his bakery-café however, and with that in mind, he pulled out of the parking spot and drove away.

He took one more look at his rear view mirror for good measure, but the cat was already gone.

#eclaire de la lune #chapter three of fortun bein a bitch

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lywinis · 5 years

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SCREW YOU TUMBLR STOP EATING MY CUTS.

AO3

[1986]

Crowley liked Soho. As far as places went, it was hardly a den of iniquity, but he’d always felt that there should be some sort of decorum to one’s descent into Hell. He’d seen other demons go at it slapdash, tempting with drugs and alcohol and sex, but it had all seemed rather crass, especially when one considered that humans tended to get there all on their own without outside influence.

He was hardly feeling unfulfilled at his job, however. He was secure in his spot; he hadn’t been ousted in nearly six milennia. While he’d almost been discorporated a handful of times – and actually discorporated a handful more, but he’d hung onto this body for quite a while now. There’d been no paperwork of that sort and no stretching out a new vessel, getting used to the kinks and working out how to feel comfortable in his skin again.

Humans had gotten simultaneously more and less violent. Wars were global, with bombs and protests and more bombs. The world held its breath as Russia and the US sized each other up.

The tension was something that hung over the world like a miasma, but it was hardly something anyone could do something about – even though Heaven and Hell had been working on it. Heaven was fighting against it, whispering suggestions into ears on both sides; Hell was ramping it up, enunciating the machismo and chest beating so that someone would get angry and hit a button. Crowley stayed out of it for the most part. Bringing about the apocalypse early would put a feather in his cap, with the right words whispered in the right ears, but Crowley thought of the bigger picture.

Earth was interesting, far more so than the crowded, dank and dripping hallways of the Pit, a proper bureaucrat’s wet dream with all the paperwork and queueing. No, Earth was much nicer. It had alcohol, rock and roll, good soft mattresses with duvets that felt like a caress.

Earth also had Aziraphale, and Crowley was damned glad for it.

In short, he was feeling very good about his place in the world; naturally that was when it all went to shit.

He was going out, in that way that he had when he’d had enough of telly and enough of remaining cooped up in his flat with his houseplants, but he hadn’t a clue as to what he wanted to do. Drinks were likely, but he’d seen Aziraphale almost six months ago. Too early to call on him, even at the bookshop. He took a risk every time he went; that day could be the day he was found out. Best not to draw too much attention to the bookshop nestled on the busiest corner in Soho, looking less like a shop and more like part of the background, no doubt something the angel had done to discourage customers.

That was hilarious in its own way, really. Crowley never got tired of watching Aziraphale annoy people away from his book collection. Technically angels weren’t supposed to own Things, but Aziraphale had never been shy of his admiration for humans and their words. Nor had he ever been shy about partaking in the physical world’s pleasures, such as eating or drinking.

Crowley cursed to himself. His feet had taken him toward the bookshop regardless of his own intent. He was almost there, in fact. He needed to think of something else. Aziraphale had distracted him, and the angel wasn’t even present.

That was dangerous, even moreso that he was trying to avoid whatever had been following him.

The last month or so, it had felt like he was being watched. Not in the way that Hell had, when they wanted to transmit new orders to him – if it were that, they would have just blared it through his stereo, interrupting wherever he happened to be on the Very Best of Queen. No, this was different.

This felt like being stalked by a predator. Crowley had been stalked before; wolves in Scotland, tigers in Burma, seagulls in Melbourne. It was hardly a new thing for him, but the way it made him feel was startling in its newness. The feeling had a razor sharp edge to it, enough to make the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end.

He was in danger, he could feel it in the shudder that rippled up his spine and rattled his pinfeathers.

Whatever it was, the chance of discorporation had become rather real. All the more reason to lure whatever it was away from A.Z. Fell & Co. He swaggered past, using the reflection in the glass, making a pretense of checking his hair in the mirrored surface. (A slicked back style this decade, something just as flashy as he was, a couple strands artfully escaping to make him seem just a little more approachable.) He gave himself a rather cocky set of finger guns, another recent invention that irritated people the world over, and moved on.

He sauntered through the streets, walking in random circles. He stopped for a pint here, grabbed a packet of smokes from a side shop that was still open this time of night. He irritated a whole night club by wiggling his fingers at the DJ’s equipment and putting it just out of calibration enough to be annoying.

Still, the feeling didn’t fade. In fact, it only seemed to intensify, moving slowly closer. Crowley had walked nearly to Whitechapel at this point, but the feeling was still behind him, sending chills up his spine.

Clouds passed over the moon, darkening the streets a bit. Crowley ducked behind a couple of rubbish bins, making for an alley. Maybe he could lose whatever it was by taking to the air.

It wasn’t to be, though. Whatever had been following him thought that stepping down the alley had been a marvelous idea, and he felt himself slammed up against the brick outer wall of a little cafe. The air rushed out of his lungs, but it was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe. He snapped his fingers, reappearing a couple of feet away from this new, unknown enemy.

Well…not entirely unknown.

“Nybbas,” he said, wiping at the thin stream of blood from his lower lip. “They let you out of preschool?”

“You’re always so funny.” Nybbas smiled. “Always with the jokes.”

It didn’t reassure Crowley. Nybbas’s smiles were always…off. A touch too wide, a hair too long, with an eerie tilt to his head. A minor duke in hell, he was low enough on the totem pole that he shouldn’t have been let up here at all, at least not without good reason.

He was plain looking, a shock of brown hair and dull brown eyes. It was when he smiled that it was…creepy. Where you could tell something was off.

“Why the warm welcome?” Crowley asked, gesturing with his bloodied fingers. A snap of his hand and he’d righted himself, but it was the way he was being studied.

Nybbas was smaller than he was, though no less strong; strength was measured in age and in how powerful you were when you Fell. Angels had certain skills you never lost, and demons squabbled over artifacts and knowledge to extend and hone those skills. Falling twisted most powers, though the general idea remained the same.

Nybbas, however, had always been an idealist. He oversaw visions, sending wonky prophecies to earth in order to keep people on their toes. Menial work in this day and age, but still.

“Well,” Nybbas said, scratching at his cheek. “I was coming up for confirmation of something. And for you.”

“For me?” Crowley asked. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, yes,” Nybbas said, smiling again. “You see, I found something, and I want to test it out.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Shit,” Crowley breathed.

“Oh, did you know?” Nybbas’s smile faded. “Well, that takes out at least half the fun of it. Hm. The other half should be all right.”

He tilted his head, withdrawing something from his sleeve. Crowley squinted, until the thing caught the moonlight. A long, sharp dagger, rusted and pitted with flecks of brownish mess. Rust, perhaps – or blood.

No. Not a dagger. It was too long, the blade too tapered. His heart started to hammer in his chest.

“So, you know what this is,” Nybbas said.

“I know what you think it is,” Crowley replied. Bluffing, perhaps. They’d been searching for that for ages, there was no way they’d found it.

Long ago, in Golgotha, a Roman had taken pity on the poor Christ, piercing his side with a spear as he hung dying from the cross. The Lancaea had been lost to time, the shaft snapped during the act and the weapon thought discarded.

If this was indeed the Spear of Destiny, he was in quite a bit of trouble.

Crowley had liked the young man when he’d met him. It was a shame his death had come so early. Crowley figured it was a bit of justice if this hurt as much as he thought it might.

Just a little bit.

Nybbas was watching him, turning the spearhead in his hand. Either the wood had rotted away with time, or the fanatics had carted it off piecemeal to various shrines and holy places, as though that would somehow make them holier or change them for the better.

There wasn’t anything to that sort of rubbish – it was all about their free will and how they used it, after all.

“I’d heard you were taking to sleep, Crawly.”

“It’s Crowley, now.”

“I don’t care,” Nybbas said. His smile never faded, but his eyes were flat, dull. “Yes or no?”

“A bit, yes,” he said. He glossed over the century he’d spent asleep, instead rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Everything,” Nybbas singsonged. “You forgot what I rule over already?”

Shit.

Nybbas’s other domain was dreams. Specifically, nightmares or dreams of temptation.

“Such lovely, vivid dreams,” Nybbas sighed, wistful. “I’ve never seen a demon have dreams before. How do you do it?”

“I…just do.” Crowley had no idea why they’d started, though he wasn’t about to tell Nybbas that.

“Who’s the blond?” Nybbas asked.

Crowley froze. Of course he’d have seen. Crowley dreamt of Aziraphale often, not that he could really help that.

“No one. I made him up.”

“Liar. Demons can’t do that.”

“I can.”

“What’s the Arrangement?” Nybbas focused on him like a cat that had caught a mouse and intended on playing with it.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“LIAR!”

Nybbas was fast. Faster than Crowley had anticipated, and he had been ready for him. The smaller demon darted forward, and though Crowley hopped backward, he still took a hard gash across the forearm from the rusty spearhead.

It was a brilliant bolt of agony.

Crowley would have screamed, but all the air was sucked out of him in a wheeze, pulled from him by the slice to his forearm.

He’d been hanging here for hours, in the hot Golgotha sun. His arms were tired, his body flagging. Crowley stumbled, mashing his face against the brick of the wall. He scraped himself raw, sliding down against the filthy alleyway, sharp and shallow breaths not getting him the air he needed. The Romans laughed beneath him, even as he lifted himself up to take a breath.

He was weeping blood.

“Oh, so it is what I’ve been looking for,” Nybbas said.

His smile returned.

—–

Aziraphale was worried. He thought he’d seen Crowley, primping in his store front. He’d been poring over another misprinted bible, but had noticed the movement out of his peripheral. He’d been just about to invite the demon in for a drink, but Crowley had glanced at something over his shoulder, given his reflection those ridiculous finger thingies, and had sauntered on.

It had only really made Aziraphale curious.

It had only taken him a moment to put on his coat and grab his umbrella, but there was definitely a lack of Crowley as he stepped out of the shop and locked the doors with a twitch of his fingers.

So, he followed his nose.

Admittedly, he wasn’t as good as Crowley with that sort of thing, but over the milennia he’d learned to look. Along with Crowley’s presence came his scent; Aziraphale had to admit it had become something of a comfort these days. New leather, good earthy greenhouses, the hint of a campfire. There had been the sharp smell of good pipe tobacco, but it had gone and been replaced with the faint scent of engine oil once he’d bought the Bentley at the turn of the century.

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he preferred one or the other. They all smelled like Crowley, that was enough.

He ignored the track that thought was taking and followed his nose. He found the mischief wreaked at each spot he’d stopped, following Crowley’s looping path all the way through Soho and into Whitechapel.

An hour or more of walking, and Aziraphale’s worry hadn’t abated. He was hardly exhaustible, but if this was Crowley playing with him, he’d rather be at his shop. Something in him, however, told him to keep going. It was the same quiet voice that had told him to help those poor people in the Garden, and he’d gotten better about listening to it.

“Dear St. Anthony, look around. Something’s lost that can’t be found,” he muttered to himself, flexing his hands over his umbrella, looking this way and that, trying to pick out where the scents were coming from.

Close enough, and he could feel the demon’s presence. It was a small pressure behind his eyes, something he’d been looking for, but as he turned another corner, he realized why it had faded as he got closer to it.

Something else had overwhelmed it.

A smaller man, his head tilted oddly and his lips pulled back in a rictus, stood over Crowley. There was a bloodied knife in his hand, and Aziraphale’s brain stopped making anything but a roar of white noise as he started forward.

Not a man. Not a man. Not a man.

——

Barely able to breathe.

The effects were fading, but Crowley was still gasping like a grounded fish. He was getting feeling back into his arms and legs, but he knew that Nybbas wasn’t about to let him get away with just a cut. He was going to slice into him so he could feel that agony over and over, until his body gave out. Then he’d wait until Crowley recorporated, and then do it again.

It was now or never, while he still had some sense left in him. He couldn’t die, not now.

He could run. Head to his flat. He had the holy water, he could–

“B E G O N E !”

The voice cracked the pavement. It was a roar of white noise, a howl in the night that set off car alarms and roused dogs and cats of all kinds, sending them vocalizing into the once-quiet London night.

Nybbas turned, and Crowley struggled to see through the red haze that was his vision, but there was too much white. Blazing nothingness, shining straight into his eyes and he squinted, trying to see.

——

Aziraphale cracked the demon across the face with the handle of his umbrella so hard that the wood cracked. Splinters shattered into the being’s jaw, and there was an unearthly scream as it fell back against the wall, clutching at its face. Its true form was nothing to sneer at, all smiling jaws and gnashing teeth, but Aziraphale jammed the rest of the umbrella into its sternum, angelic strength cleaving the breastbone in twain.

There was a crackle, a rush of flame, and a pop. The rusty knife clattered to the ground at his feet.

He and Crowley were alone, nothing but a scorchmark on the wall to mark the demon’s passing.

——

Crowley forced himself upward into consciousness. He was in danger, he needed to–

He groaned, audibly. Well, he wheezed. It was close. In the ballpark.

His tripled vision doubled, then singled in on Aziraphale, his divine radiance leaking through his vessel, haloing him in light. His eyes blazed with a blue-white radiance, his mouth drawn tight with disapproval. A broken umbrella in his hand might as well have been a blade; Crowley saw why they’d given him the flaming sword.

He was beautiful and terrible to behold, and Crowley loved him effortlessly, though it would consume him.

Aziraphale turned to him, and the light faded, revealing the same familiar, soft man, moonlight threading through his white-blond curls. He’d never seen a better sight in his entire life.

“Angel,” Crowley wheezed.

“Crowley!”

Crowley’s eyes started to roll back into his head, and he fought unconsciousness for all he was worth. Unfortunately, unconsciousness sucker punched him in the solar plexus and everything faded to black.

——

It was warm and soft where he awoke, and Crowley hesitated to open his eyes just yet. His head was throbbing, but compared to the last time he was conscious, that was a marked improvement. He slowly sat up, cataloguing his hurts.

The gash on his forearm was bandaged, and he could already feel it healing. His gaze was caught by the sight of his shirt.

He looked down at himself.

Tartan pyjamas. Of course. He sighed.

Aziraphale had rescued him. He could let him have that one, at least.

He pressed his feet to the rug, unsurprised to find it as comfortable and plush as everything else.

He had to get up. Everything in here smelled like the angel and he really, really needed to go, before he buried his face in the pillow and didn’t leave.

He snapped his fingers, the pyjamas replaced with clean attire that was more his style. Inhaling, he reached for the doorknob–

–only to almost be knocked over by Aziraphale bustling in with two mugs of tea and breakfast on a tray.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, stopping short and righting the tray. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rusty. “How long was I out?”

“A month and a half.” Crowley frowned. A month and a half, spent under the angel’s roof? He’d have to explain his disappearance. “How are you feeling, my dear boy?”

“Turned inside out,” Crowley said. “Tartan, really?”

“It was all I had.”

Crowley shot him a look over his glasses. Aziraphale colored a bright pink. He shuffled into the room and set the tray on a table.

“Won’t you join me? I made coffee.”

“How did you–”

“My umbrella,” Aziraphale said, stirring sugar into his tea. “Made from a staff I had long ago. It’s blessed by St. Anthony. Was blessed, I mean. It’s broken now.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, unsure what to say to that. “What about the–”

“Shh-ssh!” Aziraphale said, shooting him a Look. “You don’t need to know where It’s gone. It’s been taken care of.”

Crowley considered that. Probably for the best, lest someone figure out he knew where the Spear was. He let that one go, nodding slowly.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Aziraphale said. “And you should try the biscuits. At least a nibble.”

Crowley waved a hand and another squashy armchair floated over to where the table was, settling opposite Aziraphale.

There was no word to describe what he was feeling now. He couldn’t thank Aziraphale. Not for this. They’d get wind downstairs and it would be a nightmare. He could spin it that he’d just gotten away, trying to warn poor Nybbus…yeah, that could work.

He sat, taking the cup and saucer the angel pushed toward him.

The coffee was the perfect temperature.

#Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #Kamidoodles #lywinis writes

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theonetrueotaku · 5 years

Text

Just Another Game

A canon-based Yoongi/everyone fic

Set in 2019, after their world tour and after Answer’s release.

Min Yoongi’s career has put him in bisexual hell: living with six hot bandmates who think it’s really funny to flirt and get handsy with him and with each other all the time. Between constant struggles like not knowing whether he and Jimin nearly made out while drunk, to bed sharing with Jungkook every other night, to not being sure how to stop imagining what it’d be like to kiss Namjoon, it’s only a matter of time before he loses his mind as he realizes he’s in love with six perfect but very straight boys.

After Yoongi drunkenly comes out as bi, he can’t remember the confession the next day. Taken by surprise, the boys lightheartedly start a competition to see who Yoongi finds the most attractive in the group. The objective is set to getting a kiss from Yoongi before he finds out about the competition. Though they mean well, things go downhill fast for all of them. As they each realize they are attracted to Yoongi, they start taking things too far beyond what they’d signed up for.

Chapter 1: Prologue is below the cut.

At the very least, Yoongi could still see his hands clear as day.

That was it. That was the test. Yoongi’s standard for being too drunk was as simple as whether or not he could see his fingers clearly if his eyes darted down at them quickly. If he could see the perfect cut of his nails then he was safe enough.

The laughter that would echo after every little thing he said was not concerning anymore so long as he passed this test. As long as the boys were enjoying his company, the consequences of his words weren’t really top of mind at the moment. In fact, all he could feel was the pleasant warmth that came every time one of the boys smiled at him over something he said. It was happening pretty often. What Yoongi wasn’t aware of was that he was cajoling these reactions out of them through lavish compliments and embarrassing behaviors.

Seeing them all so tipsy and calm after an intense week gave Yoongi some hope for the rest of this wretched break Big Hit had them on. The most pessimistic of the group, Yoongi was bitter that the band was being given the worst kind of time off the company could have possibly envisioned.

Everyone was scrambling.

The stress all started with the Big Initiative. One year of time off, that was the premise. According to Big Hit, it was the real deal: Time for the boys to improve themselves, time for the company to expand. It was supposed to make things easier on both groups. If you heard the boys retell the story, though, their takes were very different. If they really were to take a whole year off for the sake of putting more time into their next release, that wasn’t any kind of vacation offer. That just meant more time to work harder than they ever have before.

It was right about time for Yoongi to start getting bitter when this drinking opportunity came around. He was sure that the boys were happier seeing him make an ass of himself than seeing him preach about the amount of work they do that others don’t give them credit for. Truth be told, Yoongi hated getting like that. It made him sound unappreciative and callous. Conversations like that would always end in a reminder that he was giving ARMY too little credit, and all it would serve to do is sour his mood and leave him feeling guilty.

Being drunk off his ass and having fun for a night was a better alternative. Even Jin must have known that when he’d made the reservation.

Yoongi giggled to himself again. ‘Reservation’ was a strong word.

“What are you laughing at?” Jin asked, reminding Yoongi that his current pillow was living and breathing. A jokingly bitter Jin rubbed at his arm as if it was bruised from how long Yoongi had been lying there. Rolling his eyes, Yoongi didn’t even answer.

A malicious spirit in Yoongi was pretty amused at the idea of how many people Jin must have fought out of their spot just to close an entire in-demand karaoke venue on a Saturday night. Only the finest for the band, echoed Jin’s words in Yoongi’s head.

The youngest half of the band was especially appreciative considering they were supposed to be sitting at home with their tails between their legs. Off-handedly caught playing tag in the building during their practice hours, their instructors treated them to an unnecessary lecture that took Namjoon and Jin everything not to eat their own words over. Yoongi knew those two had the highest respect for their elders, but he could read on their faces how badly they wanted to tell the instructors to bite it after looking at Jimin, Jungkook and Tae’s guilt-ridden faces.

Jin must have sensed how badly they had needed that time off when he made the call. Sure Namjoon was pissed when he heard they wouldn’t be getting the sleep necessary for their practice the next day, but even he seemed to understand that Jin had the right idea.

For someone who got his way, Yoongi would think that Jin would be smiling just a bit more.

“My shoulder is falling asleep,” Jin complained as Yoongi’s head continued to rest on his arm, sharply nestled in muscle there that Yoongi was doing his best not to comment on aloud. It’d come out as a compliment, yes, but he was managing to hold onto this one. That was more than could be said about most other thoughts he’s had so far.

“You’re comfortable,” Yoongi mumbled back, a bit grumpy that Jin was complaining at all. His eyes were focused firmly on the flashing, dizzying lyrics projected onto their screen.

“Oh come on, he’s tired,” Namjoon joked back with a slight tease in his voice that Yoongi worried wasn’t aimed at Jin. “Look at him.”

“I am looking at him - and all I can see is that he’s cutting off my circulation.”

“Leave him alone,” Hobi teased. “When’s the last time you’ve seen him so comfortable?”

“He napped in a massage chair four hours ago,” Jin pointed out. Jimin started giggling at this point. The laugh went on so absurdly long that Yoongi very belatedly began giggling too. “What are you laughing at now?”

Yoongi shrugged, looking up at the glass chandeliers hanging all along the ceiling. Jin had picked a beautiful place. Though he’d never been there before, it didn’t take Yoongi long to feel at home there. Even though they were seven in a private bar for 100 people, they’d made it as cozy as they could by sitting along the stage. Sitting on the longest couch, Yoongi and the eldest of the group were spread out with still enough space for them to all put their feet up on the coffee table - if only Namjoon would let them. Yoongi had to settle for getting his legs up on Namjoon and Hobi’s laps after he complained long enough, leaving Jin with the better but still unenviable position of ‘designated neck pillow’.

It was the least they could do after forcing Yoongi to promise he wouldn’t actually leave them and fall asleep in a corner of the bar. For as long as they were forcing him to stay awake, he would be as comfortable as he could make himself.

Slamming down shots with a very stiff rap line wasn’t the best idea. He could tell they three were the least sober of the bunch. Namjoon and Hobi were lucky enough to be calm drunks, though. Meanwhile, when intoxicated, Yoongi enjoyed an arsenal of personality type potentials. They were rarely in a color the band didn’t love, though, as evidenced now by their smirks and giggles whenever Yoongi made little comments or snips at each of them.

It was comfortable like this, even if he was slowly losing sight of his hands on the next vision test. His sobriety was fading like his once vibrant red hair was paling into a strange brownish-pink. At least he knew he was safe and in for a great night no matter what. His boys would make sure he made it out alright. He was going to sit back and enjoy it. This was the relief he needed. He felt this strange completeness, as if too whole or too happy to care what happened with him.

Draped along one of the giant bean bag chairs was Jimin, looking regal as ever. Yoongi was so paranoid about looking at him nowadays. As he realized now that he was staring at Jimin, he all but blushed when Jimin noticed and threw a casual smile his way.

Unknowingly, Namjoon distracted him as he ruffled his hair. By the time Yoongi looked up, the purple-haired band leader was turning his eyes back to Tae and Jungkook. “Don’t worry about Jin. You rest as long as you like. You deserve it after today.”

“What happened today?” Jin asked, the concern hiding somewhere so deep in his tone that Yoongi decided against teasing him for it. Namjoon didn’t answer, which left Yoongi curious as to exactly what he meant.

“He’s very hard on himself lately,” he heard Hobi say instead. Yoongi made a face and focused back on Tae and Jungkook, in their performance of a lifetime. They were both putting their hearts into it but Yoongi had to resist a giggle. Tae tried his best to make it through an English-language rap while Jungkook hummed syllables in the right notes. Charlie Puth was a favorite of theirs, and See You Again was a great song….Well, where Jungkook could mimic notes just fine without the words, Tae found it much more difficult to rap as Wiz Khalifa, let alone without even knowing the lyrics.

Tae was enjoying it though. No one could put his energy into question. He was ten times more invested in this than anyone in the room. Yoongi immediately had the urge to tease him for it but held back. He needed to be nicer to Tae. It’d only been a few days since he’d been called out on his behavior lately and he intended to make a change.

He debated calling out a compliment to Jungkook, silencing himself when he thought of where that boy’s head seemed to be lately. He didn’t know quite how to move forward with him but it seemed like making him the center of attention would be the wrong move. The more concerned Yoongi acted, the more he knew the boys would get on Jungkook’s case. Worried as he was, Yoongi knew that attention wasn’t what Jungkook wanted.

Turning back to his present company on the large couch, Hobi’s yawn made Yoongi remember the work day they’d had before this. Earlier that day, he, Namjoon, and Hobi spent countless hours at the studio, writing while the others trained. Glancing over at Namjoon now, Yoongi appreciated the difference between how Namjoon had been feeling before and how happy he looked now.

Playing leader and songwriter at once was weighing on Namjoon, apparent by the subtle bags forming under his eyes. They were all going to be called out soon for not getting enough sleep, but Namjoon in particular looked exhausted. The entire time they were working at the studio, he’d bring up the others and how he wanted to check in on them during their break. The rap line never took breaks, so Namjoon withered away in his thoughts all day as Yoongi watched. Looking at his lip, his memory was served with confirmation that Namjoon was still mercilessly peeling away at his bottom lip whenever he got too distracted.

After him, Jin was the closest to match Namjoon’s tired posture. As the oldest, Jin determined the tone of the group. So long as he kept his head up, Yoongi knew they had a chance of surviving. It was only after turning his head and staring up at Jin for far too long that Yoongi even noticed it looked like he was losing sleep too.

Pouting, Yoongi’s stare moved right back to Namjoon at just the wrong time. Reminded again of Namjoon’s new hair color, Yoongi kept his eyes on the way the color would weave in shades that matched his skin tone so perfectly. It brought out his eyes in ways Yoongi had once gotten far too used to.

Namjoon’s eyes were meeting Yoongi’s gaze for a very long time before Yoongi finally startled. By the time he realized he’d been caught, he had to wonder how long he must have been staring. Namjoon’s smile had disappeared. The concern in his gaze immediately had Yoongi stammering for an excuse only to get cut off:

“Is there something on my face, hyung?” Namjoon swiped a finger across his cheek and pouted when he found nothing, a little too tipsy to realize that he was misunderstanding.

Yoongi took the excuse for what it was worth. Pretending to wipe something off the corner of Namjoon’s lip, Yoongi had tried to concentrate on one patch of his skin to really sell the lie. Unfortunately, his eyes wandered and he found himself looking up at Namjoon’s hair again as his finger swiped the edge of his lip.

“I really love your hair like this,” Yoongi said so quickly that he didn’t even register his own words for a minute. The sincerity of the complement, his hand right on Namjoon’s mouth, and the lack of distance between them all spelled out immediate regrets for Yoongi.

For some reason or another, Namjoon seemed equally shaken by their proximity.

“I miss the blue,” Jin interrupted without looking away from his phone. Though Hobi made a tsking sound at the rudeness of the comment, he didn’t defend anyone, clearly resigned to accepting this is the way these boys would talk to each other.

“Me too,” Yoongi mumbled, still startled and not coming to his senses.

“Which one is it, Yoongi? Do you like his purple now or do you miss the blue?” Hobi asked, calling him out on his words. Now Namjoon even looked a little bothered.

“Blue was good, but I like purple the most,” Yoongi said, choosing honesty and the resulting embarrassment over stressing Namjoon out about his choice of hair color. Or maybe Yoongi was honestly afraid Namjoon would change it if he thought people didn’t like it. He had just barely started enjoying the view-

Ooh, that thought was dangerous.

Swallowing hard, Yoongi avoided all of their eyes and looked forward instead. Almost on cue, he made eye contact with a tired-looking Jimin.

He was still sitting alone while Tae and Jungkook went for a well-requested encore. Yoongi wished he was leaning his body on him instead. Unlike Jin, Jimin wouldn’t complain about the weight or the burden. Yoongi would even be pulled in tightly and cud-

These thoughts were getting carried away.

Yoongi knew he and Jimin needed a tiny bit of space between them, especially while drunk. Especially after last time.

Even so, that part of him that kept thinking dangerous things suddenly wanted to hear Jimin sing. He wanted a serenade at least if he couldn’t touch him instead.

Dangerous thinking.

As Jungkook and Tae finished, Yoongi almost immediately blurted out his thoughts as the boys handed a mic to Jimin. “Jiminie, sing me a song!” he announced across the couch to a very amused blond vocalist.

“Hyung, don’t worry. I’m singing everyone a song,” he teased back in a slanted tone. He was tipsy too, huh.

“No, Jimin, sing me a song,” Yoongi called back over the noise of the karaoke machine prompting a new song selection. Jimin looked confronted, even nervous for the entire time that he was choosing a song.

Read the rest of this chapter “Prologue” on AO3.

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#min yoongi #kim taehyung #taegi #jeon jungkook #yoonkook #park jimin #yoonmin #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #sope

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