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racheloveyunho · 3 years

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Till Death do us part - 1

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2486

TW: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

Chapter 1

I still wonder what would have happened if I didn’t meet him during this gloomy night? We were young and I was way too brave for my own good. Maybe it was my faith or maybe it was a sheer coincidence but now, I know that I will love him till death do us part.

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5 years ago.

"Hey Y/N, wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to go to school and I will surely not wait for the princess to wake up" my brother yelled loudly from the first floor, waking me up in the process.

I groaned and shifted uncomfortably in my bed; it was too much noise at such an early time of the day. My long-browned hair was messy from the last night, as always. I was the type of girl to move a lot during my sleep and my morning head was always a funny one, swollen, with small eyes and with some of my lightly curled hair stuck in my mouth. After five minutes of rethinking my life decisions, I found enough motivation to get out of my bed and walked down the stairs.

"Why the hell did I agree to help other students during holidays, huh?” I asked my brother as I lazily rubbed my tummy.

“Maybe because you are too dumb to say no to your teachers?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“Do you mind keeping your mouth shut while you are eating? It’s disgusting.” I shook my head disapprovingly.

I headed toward the kitchen to get a cup of fresh milk. Jin, my brother, childishly opened his mouth wide to show me the content of it. I let out a long “Ew!” before smashing his arm playfully.

“No, but seriously Y/N. There’s no use to be brilliant at school if that means you have to help your classmates with their studies during holidays” Jin said after taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, but the teacher who asked me this favor told me that he will write a recommendation for me if I agreed to help him” I answered.

“You don’t even need a recommendation, we’re from a rich family” Jin mumbled to himself but it was loud enough for me to hear it.

He wasn’t totally wrong and I knew it. We were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. We were “cake eater” as the other kids used to call us when we were younger, we never knew what it felt like to run out of money and everyone at school was jealous of me because of that.

But they didn’t know. No one knew how hard it actually was for me and my brother.

My mother passed away 2 years ago, and since then, my father didn’t stay at home with us longer than a week straight. He was always working, working, and working again, his job had literally become his life. He was one of the richest men in Korea and still, he was always eager for more and worked every day and night for it.

He wasn’t a good father for me and Jin. He never made any compliments to us, all he was able to do was to pressure us to be as perfect as possible or at least perfect enough to not ashamed him and his reputation. Unlike my brother, I wanted to hear my father say that he was proud of me, just for once. That’s why I was trying hard to be the perfect daughter, with good grades, good manners, and good appearance but even if I tried my best, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Do you know why I’m working so hard, Jin?” I asked him, voice as soft as a whisper, almost not daring to tell the truth.

“Why?” Jin put a hand on the top of mine, a sign of comfort since he already knew my upcoming answer.

“I don’t want to follow his rules forever. I’m still a minor so I had to stick at them but when I’ll turn 20, I will leave this house and will never come back” I sadly stated, “I want to marry a man I’m in love with, I want to do a job I like and most of all, I don’t want our father to commend my life.”

Jin tightened his grip on my hand. He understood me, he understood me too well. We were indeed rich but we were far from being happy. Jin was 6 years older than me which means he was already an adult. He wanted to leave this house as much as me but couldn’t bring himself to do so and leave me behind.

Unlike me, Jin has never been a good student, he always has been considered a failure to our father, and even if he finally was able to run away from here, he stayed there for me. I was really lucky to have a brother like him and I was well aware of that.

I took my breakfast and came back to my room to take a quick shower and get ready for this day I knew would be exhausting.

My brother was already waiting in his car. Jin took me to school as often as he could. He was working on a supermarket he owned and even if he was pretty busy, he wanted to spend his mornings with his “sweet baby sister” as he liked to call me.

I am indeed lucky to have a brother like him.

8 pm, it was already late when I heard the bell ring for the last time today. I was the last one to leave the class as I helped my teacher with the preparation of some material for the next day. It didn’t bother me too much, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home since I knew my dad was finally coming back home from his work.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t miss him at all, even after all this time. I wandered here and there even though the street was already pitch black.

“Oh! It’s been a while since I last went to the haunted alley!” I happily exclaimed to myself.

I knew every nook and cranny of Seoul, I grew up there after all. My favorite place was the haunted alley. As its name suggests and according to some beliefs, that path would be haunted.

It was an old story I heard with my friends when I was less than 10 years old. A grandma from our neighborhood scolded us and told us not to stay there because there was a woman who had been murdered in the walkway and that since then, one could hear her cry every night.

A simple way to scare naïve kids you may think, and you are more than right. However, this story is known by everyone, not just by kids. That’s the reason why I love this place, thanks to all of these rumors, no one uses this path except me. It was like my secret place.

I walked around the alley with heavy steps, thinking about my father and his upcoming lecture about how to be a good girl. My thoughts were suddenly stopped by the voice of two men who seemed to be fighting each other. I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.

“You piece of shit! And you claim yourself as the Boss” son?” One voice laughed.

I hid in the dark and saw what could have been mistaken with a scene from a horror movie. Between two old houses, a tall man was beating up a boy who seemed to be around my age.

I felt shivers down my spine but before I could even think straight, my body started to move with its own will.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted, my voice betraying me by showing how scared I really was.

I moved closer to the two men, I could now see them more clearly.

The young boy was sitting on the ground, badly bleeding, whereas the tall man was standing in front of him, blood on his hand and his nose broken.

They were watching me. The silence was heavy, the only thing I could hear was the beating of my racing heart and the shake of my knees that were begging me to run away from this place. The silence was soon replaced by an ominous laugh.

“Wow. What a beauty! Is she your girlfriend? Huh?” The tall man laughed and hit the youngest on his stomach before coming closer to me.

He came closer, until he was in front of me. I had a better view of his poor state. He wasn’t less bleeding than the other man, his blood was actually covering his whole face.

I don’t know what had taken into me at this exact moment, the adrenaline was rushing in my veins and even though my feet were stuck on the ground, unable to move, my hand reached the pepper spray I always carried in my bag. Before the man could react, I used my weapon against him.

When the chemical product had reached his eyes, he screamed and placed his hands on his face, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I took advantage of the situation and kicked him as hard as I could on his crotch before he fell loudly on the ground.

I quickly grabbed the boy by his arm and helped him stand up. He was badly injured but followed me without any complaint.

I was panting when I reached a lighted street. We stopped there, trying to catch our breath. I turned around to face the man I was still holding and my breath hitched in my throat, not from the run I previously had but because of how beautiful this man looked.

“Are you okay? What is your name?” I asked him but he simply stayed silent, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

I took a better look at his features, he was really handsome with a well-defined face. He wasn't older than me but he hadn't the body of a teenager either. His broad shoulders and his arms muscles could be seen without any effort from him. His dark hair was harmonizing with the dark of his eyes and his dimples were visible as the border of his lips turned upright in an inviting smirk.

How can someone like him be involved in such a fight?

“The sight is at your taste?” he giggled, his smile spreading wider.

I finally took notice of my staring when I heard him laugh. I must say it was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard, slightly high-pitched but almost bewitching.

“I wasn’t staring!” I shouted from embarrassment. Fortunately, the darkness of the night was covering the redness on my cheeks.

“Sure, you weren’t” He added, amused by my reaction “I’m San. Choi San. I didn’t need your help earlier but thank you, I’m glad you rescued me”

He came closer to me and gave me a sincere smile, showing even more his dimples.

My heart was going crazy in my chest. This boy seemed small earlier compared to the other man but he was way taller than me, maybe 7 inches taller.

“You’re welcome”

I was a bit intimidated by him but I dared not to look away. He had something special, an aura that seemed as dangerous as comforting. His gaze was intense and deep, it was like he was looking through me, memorizing every detail of my face.

He didn’t move and didn’t talk for at least 2 minutes and even if I was feeling uncomfortable, I did my best not to let him know.

“Where is your house?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.

He startled me with his sudden question, I didn’t expect him to talk this soon. Why did he want to know where I lived? He probably wanted to walk me home and I would have gladly let this handsome guy walk me home if I hadn’t met him in an odd situation.

‘But he is really handsome…’ I thought, sighing softly, making San arch an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, I live near here, no need to walk me home. You can go ahead…” I said “Go ahead to…the hospital, your house or…go murdering someone…whichever comes first” I added, lowering my voice at the end of my sentence.

His face changed into a surprised expression “I wasn’t going to walk you home, don’t worry”

I sighed in relief even if I felt a bit disappointed, maybe he wasn't that bad after all.

“I want to stalk you” he stared at me with his beautiful smile as if it was the most natural thing to say.

‘What the fuck?’

“Sure, stalking me haha, it was obvious, silly me!” I gently hit my head and laughed awkwardly, taking a step back from him.

He laughed sweetly and took my chin between his thumb and his index to lift my face up. His mouth came closer to my ear and he whispered a small “Just joking” before turning his heels back and leaving me, alone, in the dark street.

I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

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This is my first story, it’s bad but I’ll try to improve myself!

This series will be uploaded slowly since I don't have a lot of time.

Thank you for reading!

#choi san #san ateez #san #mafia ateez #mafia au #ateez scenario #ateez au #kpop #kpop mafia #ateez angst #ateez fluff #strangers to lovers #ateez series

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tullium · 3 years

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Problems with PJ's Daycare.

Going along with "Undetale Peasant"'s comic dub, I will be addressing these problems from beginning, to end.

Fresh saying he'd marry PJ when he was older; It would be so awkward being HOW MUCH older than Fresh, knowing him as a toddler would be awkward... wouldn't it? Plus, by the time they'd "marry", PJ would be in his 60's, probably. Someone gave the idea of them marrying immediately and Fresh starts demanding to do it. (OOC) People supporting the above ^. Ink is MAJOR OOC. Seriously... "Suddenly grows up to be an adult". -_- PJ LITERALLY SAYS THAT ANONS ARE ENCOURAGING IT- PEOPLE LIGET PROTECTING FRESH ABOUT HIM CRYING ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO MARRY NOT ONLY HIS NEPHEW BUT HIS FUCKING BABYSITTER AND AN ADULLLLLT- Fresh is also VERY OOC, as well as PJ. PJ also justifying them marrying when FRESH gets older. PJ literally saying he loved Fresh. SEXUALING TODDLER LUST. LUST WAS ALSO OOC. LUST ALSO HAD A WEIRDLY SEXUAL OUTFIT. HE'S A TODDLER. Dream and Blue OOC. Thegreatrogue shipping PJ with anons. (And Fresh getting protective.) Error wanting to marry Ink even though he, a toddler, should have no idea what marriage is about, aka love, which he, A TODDLER, would not understand yet. Once again SHIPPING TODDLERS- How the fuck does Swapfell even KNOW WHAT A SLAVE IS WHAT- Anons bullying a toddler. CROSS. CROSS IS SO OOC IT ISN'T EVEN A JOKE. PEOPLE CRUSHING ON THE TODDLERS. People wanting Error and Ink to give each other nicknames. Because they're married. AND ARE TODDLERS. Not to mention the whole "THE TALK" thing. People saying stuff about Error and Ink kissing at the wedding. "HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON POOR FRESH" A CHILD. FRESH IS A CHILD. THEY DIDN'T CHEAT- WHAT- PJ's outfit looking wayyyy too sexual- PJ's girlfriend LITERALLY calling him a pedo (which technically, HE IS.) Rogue assuming the CQ is okay with this situation even remotely. GENO'S OOC- Shipping PJ with Rogue. Just... stop. 7goodangel literally has said that they do not accept OR support Paperfresh! PaperJam is their creation, so we should RESPECT what they have told us, AND NOT SHIP PAPERFRESH. People telling Geno his brother will die. VERY MUCH OOC GENO- Sexualizing PJ. EVEN MORE OOC CROSS. People telling PJ that HE is the one that "killed" Error. Geno becomes very unrealistic to a real toddler. Ink LITERALLY lifting Reaper up by his collar and screaming. Geno deciding he is better off dead, once again, not thoughts of a toddler. Blueprint and Gradient incest. Alter Sans being romantic with Gradient??? PEDOPHILIA PEOPLE. Rogue's OC bullying Goth, aka an adult, bullying a minor. Goth and Palette being ROUGHLY 12-13 and those two other weirdos sexualizing it. Sexualizing minors, aka Palette and Goth. Geno literally trying to kill himself. A toddler knowing about death? What the hell? Making Ink think he has to take care of Fresh. They're like a year apart. Seriously? WHY WERE THE PARENTS NOT INFORMED ABOUT GENO AND ERROR- Palette, a 12 year old, thinking he can get with an adult. People literally called them out on this, above ^, and nothing was DONE ABOUT IT- Shipping a minor, Goth, with an adult, Rogue's OC. The Cray vs. Palette x Goth, aka the love triangle. Please... THEY ARE MINORS- Shipping toddlers again- Fika sexualizing Goth and Palette- Cray getting a LIIIIIITTLE too close to Goth. Goth is clueless about this, how. Also the last part with Palette and Cray. THEY ARE MINORS-

TL;DR: PJ's Daycare sucks major ass because sexualizing minors, sexualizing toddlers, shipping toddlers, pedophilia, incest, love triangles betweens minors, completely out of character characters, and people supporting ALL OF THIS.

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morguemaw · 2 years

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I posted 484 times in 2021 THIS IS A LONG POST WARNING

400 posts created (83%)

84 posts reblogged (17%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.2 posts.

I added 364 tags in 2021

#my art - 60 posts

#zemuf - 57 posts

#ask - 57 posts

#spiderguts art - 50 posts

#spiderguts - 37 posts

#anon - 33 posts

#oc - 22 posts

#digital art - 20 posts

#honeymare - 16 posts

#au - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 67 characters

#i had to physically restrain myself from doing a big scenic drawing

My Top Posts in 2021

NEW AUU. Hi! Please read the stuff below to understand the AU, Rules, ect; Please read it fully to understand what I'm comfortable with since this is my first open AU where ill allow people to create their own Sans OC/Sans AU in. CentaurTone is a AU based off of Centaur Sans's. think of the Multiverse in this case. Lore/Backstory;

CentaurTone is a universe of a massive collision of AU's. This was due to a mistake on Ink and Error's side. Due to this mistake, all AU's have combined into one massive world, forcing everyone above ground into a massive, thriving globe. This globe has cities/towns, forests, mountains, everything you'd expect from earth, but with a twist. Since CentaurTone used to be another small clique of AU's, like CentaurSwap, CentaurFell, CentaurTale, and so on, they agreed to live together, with Ink and Error being the silent gods, and Dream and Nightmare being the demigods of the planet. Due to the small size however, everyone mostly lives together peacefully in one city. With other versions taking charge of their own plot of land, either living together in a huddle, or in separate in single homes. Even though they are Centaurs, they are also nicknamed Centies. Centies can indeed live anywhere! A house? Go for it! In a cave? Hell yea! Treehouse? GO for it! There are a total of three groups; Devs. Links. and Kluches. Devs are the Good Sanses. Starring Ink, Dream, and Swap. Links are the Bad Sanses. Starring Error, Killer, Dust, Horror, and Nightmare. Kluches are the rest of the world. If you have decided to have more then just one Sans in a group, you are fully allowed to name them whatever you please. Centies typically live in groups, but it isnt uncommon to see a Centie alone, so it is fully alright to create a single Centie, and live in peace. Rules; ( ik, it has rules I'm srry :( ) X Please don't use someone else's idea! Since I didn't plan on this being a open AU, I would prefer if people didn't overuse/use a au someone else is doing! X The Centaur part can be ANY species! But please no mermaid/ocean stuff, CentaurTone is strictly land based! You can use Mammals or Bugs however, such as Cats, Dogs, Spiders, or more! Be creative! <3 X That's it! Here is a list of who is doing what! This will be updated as time goes on, of what user has designed what CentaurTone character; Its fully fine to do OCs! Just again please avoid any pre-existing AUs that are already picked by others! -- Me: Ink Sans Error Sans Dream Sans Lust Sans Fresh Sans UnderSwap Sans SwapLust Sans SwapFell Sans HorrorSwap Any Personal OCs -- @glitchysquidd Underfell Horrortale Killer Sans Any Personal OCs -- @redmegalovania Dust Sans Any Personal OCs

151 notes • Posted 2021-09-27 01:45:37 GMT

See the full post

155 notes • Posted 2021-11-30 22:34:15 GMT

SA Y HELL0 TO [[CHAOS]]! baha.. i cant do the typing xDD But yeh! Wanted to mix Spamton and Jevil together! <3 Feel free to call him [[CHAOS]], vJemtin, or Half Off! ;P He can be smol.. Or tall! xD

159 notes • Posted 2021-10-17 22:08:41 GMT

222 notes • Posted 2021-11-20 01:44:57 GMT

WOO found this, wanted to fill it out >:) Wanna do it too? The image is below!! Lets start a chain? ;)

330 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 05:18:44 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #figured this was a good thing to post at 400 posts!!!#i think im almost to 300 followers i think??#i think im actually at 300 wtf wait #hang on

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noladyme · 3 years

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You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for… being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

---

#eddie brock #eddie brock fic #venom #venom fic #eddie brock x oc #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock smut

74 notes · View notes

treasureswordsgirl55 · 3 years

Text

Come Back

Character: James Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Fem!Reader (OC)

Inspired By (Song): Tu fotografía - Gloria Estefan

Warnings: Fluff. So much Angst. Insecurities. Post! Snap. Post!Avengers Endgame. Pre TFATWS.

Author’s Note: Hello. Hello. Hello. I hope everyone’s ok.

This fic is a second part of “Dust”. When I wrote Dust, automatically thought on a second part, and maybe It would be so so long posted in one post.

(If you don’t know, I write in the night) so… This is the final part of this fic. As always say, it’s a pleasure write with Bucky and maybe, just maybe, write a novel with him just to pull out of off my head.

Part 1 is here

He’s other of my movie’s crush with Poe Dameron. And Loki too. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Ps: The gif isn't mine. (I don't remember who is the creator)

Again, thanks u for the likes, comments and reblogs. Always made me smile to know that my stories makes you fun a little.

So I hope you like this one. XOXO 💋

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I’m driving on the highway at a considerable speed trying to get to my destination quickly. The letter that Steve sent me through those FBI mens is on the passenger seat unopened but I know it contains something important.

His messages were always important.

I barely see out of the window that the great building of Avengers Headquarters appears in my vision, and I feel my heart race. Although I had never been there, something made me even more nervous.

I get out of the car quickly and before even crossing the doors of the building, I see that many people leave, some crying, others hugging others and some running quickly towards taxis that are stopped in the streets near it. The destinations were very different: Some went to the center, others that went to the different government offices and others directly to the airport.

What’s happening?

A police officer stops me and asks for my identification. The only thing I have with me is my little blue backpack and Steve’s letter in my hand.

I think about whether to show him the letter, but I open it and take out from inside it, a folded sheet of paper and a small card, as if it were a driver’s license, and I give it to the officer who steps away only when he sees it, indicating that I should enter through another of the doors that were empty. From a distance I can barely see the different sheets of paper stuck to the side of one of the doors where many people were reading and walking towards the taxis. The officer guides me until I enter through a door that could be for a giant and I sneak past what appear to be luxury cars totally covered by blue tarps.

- We were waiting for you, Miss Porter - The artificial voice makes me jump with fright and I turn towards the void, looking for the source where it comes from; but I can’t see a speaker, far from it, someone nearby - I’m sorry to scare you, my name is FRIDAY, I’m one of Mr. Stark’s technological assistants.

Stark. How long since I heard anything about that last name.

- It's nothing. You just took me by surprise - I deny as I walk through that empty corridor and I see through the tinted windows how people are hugging, as if they had not seen each other a long time ago - What am I doing here? Why don’t the others come in this way?

- I’m sorry it was like that. Let me ask you a question: Did you read Captain Rogers’ letter? It was his exclusive request that you enter through here.

- No … - I answer lost in my thoughts and squeeze the letter in my hands, as if it were some kind of stress reliever that I had learned to use over the years, while I pay attention to the couple that is a few meters from me , who seems to be eager to touch, as if they have not been together a long time - I’ll do it at home.

- You must do it now before entering the main room.

I suddenly look at the threshold where I see silhouettes of people walking quickly from one side to the other. My breath catches in my throat as I feel fear invade me. What am I afraid of? Steve is on the other side waiting for me to give me another bad news? Tell me that he was gone forever like that time five years ago?

- Let me assure you that the content of that letter will not make you suffer more than you have suffered in these five years, Miss Porter.

I look at the letter and curse while I mentally complain about the ease I have to express my emotions, even more so when the opinion comes, from what I suppose, it is an AI.

- And how do you know that? How do you know that I suffered?

- Because Captain Rogers specially asked me to remind you if you didn’t get to read it - I laugh as I remember the many calls during my last two weeks of school, and the times I preferred to press the end button in order not to listen to Steve ask me if I was okay when we were both fully aware that neither he or I were - I know it was very hard for both you, and Captain Rogers, the loss of Sergeant Barnes.

Hearing his last name was as if someone had hit the pit of my stomach and the air suddenly escaped, without giving me the possibility of recovering it.

I try to take a deep breath but barely manage to take in a small breath of air before I feel a tear fall down my cheek.

It hadn’t been long since the snap when I realized how much I missed Bucky.

- It was not necessary to remember something that I’m still trying to forget.

I mumble as I walk to the door and hear children’s laughter, whispers about whether they were okay or how long they were out - What is out there?

- You must see it by yourself, miss. Let me tell you something: Captain Rogers was very sorry that he couldn’t say goodbye to you as he would have liked, but he wants you to know that he appreciates you in ways you can’t imagine.

- Thanks FRIDAY. He went on a trip?

- To live his life, miss. And he hopes that he can give it back some of yours.

I frown at her words and feel a breeze of fresh air come through the door and as soon as I cross the threshold, I hear Friday say the words that nail me to the place.

- Sergeant Barnes is waiting for you. He will be eager to see you again.

Bucky? Was this a joke? I try to open the note quickly but my fingers seem not to want to collaborate between the tremors and the nerves. How likely was the AI to be wrong?

None.

As soon as I open the note I see some scribbles that I understand as the date, which is from a few days ago, and I read it quickly looking for those words that tell me that what FRIDAY said is true.

“I’m sorry I can’t say goodbye to you, Emma. I wish I could tell you this in person, but the circumstances of my trip make it impossible. What I can tell you is that I’ll be fine and that I’m coming home. It was a pleasure. meet you and I want you to do me a favor: Take care of him. He always looked after me, now it’s time for someone to take care of him. That idiot won the lottery with you, Emma. And you must make him notice it every day of his life. This is my gift to you, I know I couldn’t promise anything five years ago, but we did it, we won and James is here for you. I hope that’s enough. ”

I put my hands to my mouth, suppressing a sob, without finishing reading the letter and when I start looking for it with my eyes among so many people. Suddenly reality hits me: The people who were here, running, hugging, crying were those who had disappeared with the snap.

My God … He was here.

I walk towards one of the men who is dressed in red, with the Médecins Sans Frontières insignia and the words are stuck in my throat.

- Are you looking for someone special? Could you give me the details?

- Barnes. He’s here … Or so they told me - I keep looking with my eyes but I can’t make out anyone I usually know. There was no sign of either Natasha or Sam - Sam Wilson? He’s his partner.

The man looks at me as if horns have come out of my head and he approaches another young woman in black, who sees me and only nods to him. I show her the credential without waiting for an answer and she simply indicates the door that is a few meters from us.

- Porter, right? - I nod as if he were a robot and indicates the door to me again - Main hall. Gate 6.

- Thank you - I run while avoiding people, children who run into the arms of their parents and push others, but no one complains. As soon as I get to the door and let people in, I see Sam in the distance that he’s talking to someone I can’t recognize. Something inside me ignites and I feel my heart beating again. I can handle the urge to cry as much as I can but I can’t, as I feel the heat invade my cheeks.

He diverts attention from who’s talking to him, he sees me and starts laughing. That complicit and funny laugh that I haven’t seen in someone for a long time. Everything had become so sad that it seemed to be in a black and white movie. I can barely get Bucky’s name off my lips when Sam nods in my direction and slaps the arm of the man in front of him. He shakes his head, visibly annoyed, but Sam indicates where I am, making the stranger turn around.

I hold back a sigh as soon as I see him turn and look in Sam’s direction but he doesn’t seem to see me. People who cross between the two prevent it. His long hair was gone and a new haircut made him look more confident. Even more attractive. His eyes were still sad but in a way that I couldn’t quite interpret.

Good God, the need to touch him was such that it seemed to me that I was in a dream and that none of it was real.

I try to scream his name through the murmur but nothing comes out of my mouth and when I try again, the tears prevent me from speaking.

I walk quickly, closing the distance between us, but before I even reach the middle, fear takes hold of me again.

What if he doesn’t remember me in the same way that I remember him?

I see Sam roll his eyes as he grabs his shoulders, turns him around, and points him right in my direction: once our gazes meet, I can’t hold back the tears.

The only answer I get is a smile.

We both rush towards each other and I hardly feel the air getting heavy, I wrap my arms around him, as if he might disappear at any moment.

- You’re here. You don’t know how much I cried for you - I hear his laugh while I feel his lips leave kisses on my hair, as his hands try to touch any part of me that is within reach and as soon as he takes me by the arms he pulls me away, observing me from above down - I thought you were just another illusion in my head.

- Is it really you, Emma? - He hugged me again and I hear Sam mutter as he passed something about how “cheesy” we looked - You look different.

-You were gone for a long time, James - he murmured against his chest while I enjoy the heat that his body gives off as well as the accelerated beats of his heart that are coupled with mine - When Steve told me that you had gone …

- Shh … don’t remember. I’m here, doll. I will never leave again.

He pulls away just to look at me for a few moments, I don’t know if he was looking for something or trying to remember something, but he just raised his hand to wipe the tears that were falling down my cheek.

- I have to catch you up on things here. - I try to get Steve’s letter out of my pocket but Bucky makes me look at him again.

- Before that….

The last thing my brain analyzes is the softness of his lips against mine. A gentle pressure and I feel like the floor disappears under me. I try to get up on tiptoe to get up to him and run my hands on his shoulders trying to bring him closer, but all I can do is wrap his arms around me and get even closer to him. I let my fingers play with his short hair and I love that feeling.

Hell, I missed his presence so much that it was hard for me to think about never having him around again.

He pulled me for air and I can tell his cheeks are just as red as mine - Bucky I …

-You don’t know how long I wanted to do that.

- For 6 years? - I joke as I approach again and take him by the hand.

- How old are you, Emma? The first time I met you, you were 25.

- I will turn 31 next week - I admit as he shakes his head and looks for someone with his eyes, when he does not find him, he lets out a growl - Who are you looking for?

- Sam. I’ll tell him we’re leaving - Answer my mental question and gently pull me towards one of the secluded rooms of the building where I hear murmurs from other people - I’ll catch up with you, doll.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I brake, causing Bucky to tense up - What do you mean?

- We will catch up on all aspects and I swear to you that you will hardly leave my department - I try to laugh but all I get is that a gasp escapes my lips causing me to give me a playful smile - In that aspect too, doll .

- Before you two go to do the things that are you going to do - I hear Sam’s voice in the distance and as soon as it enters our field of vision, I see him snorting - You know you must be with Raynor on Monday at 9 o'clock. Truth?

- And you had to remind me now?

- Yes, because I know you will not answer my messages and she will be the one who will remind you when you want to forget about it. Your head depends on it, Buck.

- Do not call me that way.

- Come on old man, go enjoy your life and stop getting mad at the world. You’re back and with your girl, and will you still be upset because I call you like Steve did?

I shift my gaze from one to the other and Bucky just extends his hand to Sam, who shakes it without hesitation.

- Take care of yourself, Wilson.

- You too Barnes. If you need me, you know where to find me.

I pulled me away from Bucky as I walk to the door and I feel like some of the pain is gone even though I still can’t assimilate that that’s true.

- Let’s go, doll?

- Let’s go.

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beni-draw-ikemen-please · 3 years

Text

Casablancas

Tags: 5+ Years AU, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Hair-pulling, Vanilla, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, He is a boob man, Not Beta Read, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Light Angst, Waiting, Unrequited Love

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Word Count: 6,443

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Jade Leech x Asami Oda (OC)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32076625/chapters/79462633

A/N: All my TWST works will reference my original long fic of my OC, Asami and Leona Kingscholar.

If you'd like to know how the relationships got established, you may read the long fic EYES NOSE LIPS. I was in desperate need for some Jade teasing and smut and this came to me and I JUST - I needed to write it. Thank you so much for @pseudofaux for the help with writing some of the imagery I had for this piece.

She is an amazing writer and writes for most Otome Fandoms (and anime) tastefully, skilfully and beautifully!

Chapter 1: I’ve missed you

It would be like this. The quiet week when Jade finally takes a few days off from work. It would be subtle, but it was a regular occurrence, a few days in the middle of the month.

A few months before he finished his final year in the magical university, Jade was given a shiny opportunity as a manager-in-training for a luxurious hospitality agency. And while Floyd opted for a more adventurous career, Jade quite liked the more domestic approach. He liked staying in one place, and doing what he knew he could do best. To serve .

Triton Hotel is strategically and most notably one of the most iconic landmarks of Santería — a neighbouring Savanna sharing a border with Afterglow. About six hours by plane, but only two hours to pass through a magic mirror.

He’ll clock out with everything in order, a set of phone numbers and potions at the ready if an event where he is desperately needed may occur. He'll make sure though, prior to this appointment that he won’t be needed. At least, until his awaited engagement was fulfilled.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

As his gloved fingers aligned the last bit of stem on a vase of casablanca lilies, he straightened himself, brushed his jacket neatly in place as he eyed the clock. Any minute now—

A soft knock by his door. Precisely just as he predicted. His loft had been thoroughly cleaned, and he put on fresh flowers she liked. Got that room mist she picked out the last time they went out for tea. Jade Leech would breathe in, as if savouring the air through his lungs in this form. The form he felt fortunate to swell in.

To have this skin—

He reached for the brass handle, and as he opened the door, there she was. Raven hair tied neatly behind her. Her collared shirt buttoned just how he liked it. Her dark long skirt covered most of her beauty, beauty he was all too familiar with. Jade smiled at her, and gestured for her to come in. A gloved hand slowly finding themselves ghosting the small of her back. “Come in,” it tells her. Quietly, very gently hovering over, already anticipating the warmth of her supple—

“You’re late,” he chuckled, and instantly her cheeks would sport a mellow pink. And then, as he spoke and approached her, as his hands found her close and closer, the colour growing as intense, her apology now irrelevant, her face now too alluring, too inviting for him not to be this close. “Jade-san—

He wished she dropped the honorific. He felt as if she was calling someone else, someone familiar yet at the same time, still a stranger, even after all those years.

And though he was not present in her life, he hasn’t been for years— almost a decade— Jade felt that his shadow still clung around the scent of her hair.

Still clawed its way into her dreams when they lay together at night.

“I’ve missed you so—” she did, and he could feel it. The way she pulled him close, so close to her, he would always need to reach down even though Jade knew he could easily lift her in his arms. But she wasn’t fond of that, he knew better. It would remind her of him— her other, her long-lost love. The one who didn’t return her affections. The one who left.

Remembering him ticks something inside of Jade.

Hands would trail from her small shoulders, slowly removing the white gloves with his teeth. A sight he knew always excited her.

Thumbs slowly finding themselves by the small of her neck. He’d stop there, mismatched eyes of ochre, and lead admiring her features, gently—fiercely. Jade always felt the need to compete with a ferocity that’s been a struggle for her to forget. Even with him there.

She is the same Asami, yes she is— though, the years have certainly made her even more impeccable than the days she used to waltz across the floors of the Mostro Lounge. And her long hair now, framed her face better. Not that her shorter hair didn’t. Something about her keeping it tight and in place behind her excited the fins under his flesh, under this form.

Something about the way she kept herself from others; from the long sleeves she always wore, to the way her hosiery clung to her skin, something about it made the corners of Jade’s lips pull up to a satisfied smile. Thumbs now gently finding their way around her jaw, and now she’s looking up at him. Lips slightly parted, pale and luscious — just the way he likes her. Flushed and eager with anticipation. She’s always been stirred around him, and as the years went by, and as she learned of his affections towards her, she was able to let her guard down.

She was able to relax around him, and every now and then, she’d open the doors that led to her locked heart.

Heart that’s been locked away for him— thinking about him made the inside of Jade’s stomach coil and quiver.

A man he loathed but thanked at the same time. For he made her so beautiful, made her wait, made her patient — exactly how he loved her.

Devoted, hungry and yearning — and how, as time twirled her around and around, the precious seconds that she’s on her own on this marble polished twisted floor—of magic and wonderland, of things that will never be known to her— he was able to perform his best steps so far. Like Rothbart, he was patient to learn that dance, he was patient to learn the music, patient to learn when the prince would step away from crescendo, patient to finally have her hands slowly find his.

And he was sure not to ever let her escape, not ever.

His lips were gentle on her cheek, and Jade could hear her soft humming as he trailed gentle kisses up to the side of her head just above her eyelid. Gently, very gently on her forehead, then his hands would slowly and gingerly press themselves along her jawline, his lips—now hungry and bruising against her chin, and then her jaw.

Longer, sweeter, and heavier kisses followed his fingers as he carefully trudged across her skin like gravity couldn’t help but press himself towards her . And Jade would feel her hands on his forearm, desperately pulling him closer. She can be impatient, with so many years being too patient. For him, it wasn’t an issue. He is willing to give her what she wants, what she always wanted but never felt like she deserved.

His lips would finally land on hers, and she was very quick to open her mouth to him. Inviting him into this world only of lush and velvet— of sweetness and bitterness, the taste that’s uniquely her.

He would always know.

“Jade,” when she is desperate like this, she is quick to lose herself. Quick to drop the politeness she once so carefully honed like he did. They were quite similar in this aspect. But in the way Asami lost herself, Jade found her over and over again. His tongue now finding salvation, finding comfort in her mouth. It’s been weeks since they saw each other. His work didn’t allow many days for him to be away, certainly not even weekends, to their dismay. And she was unable to travel through mirrors without a companion bearing magic. Certainly not for more than a few minutes.

Her hands pulled him closer by the nape, her smaller figure trying her bestest to reach up to him, “I’m—

She is panting now, and it’s one of the things that Jade loved the most. Even more than his precious terrariums and the many trinkets he’s collected off the land throughout the years. She was like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow . The trinkets he’s collected, polished and admired were merely coins, coins that just sunk to the bottom of this grand marble fountain. And she was the centerpiece, and the rainbow her mere crown. Jade didn’t think it was possible to be this hungry, this crazy about a human woman.

Asami tugged at his collar, and with fingers almost as skilled and swift as Jade’s, his tie was immediately on the floor. His jacket was already coming off as she pushed him down his leather couch. A rich crimson, and with dusts of gold, much like her eyes. Eyes he’d admired for so long. Jade is relaxed under her stare, she looked like a beast from this angle. Like a panther, ready to devour. He quite liked that contrast as she was as quiet and as shy as he could be prowling. Her knees resting between his legs, letting him know she wanted to take charge, maybe today if he let her. And Jade would smile, hands tight around the small of her back, and gently smoothing themselves around her waist, and then resting firmly by her lower abdomen.

“Come,” he invited her, his voice a smooth Ambrosian—a drug to Asami.

Her hands rested around his shoulders as she leaned for another sweet kiss.

Jade loved the way she would seem brave as she leaned close, and how softly and easily she melted under his embrace. And her head would gently rest on his shoulder after kisses, she would always be embarrassed like this. And Jade's hands would only pull her closer, gloved hands like a virtuoso of her melody, gently lifting the hems of her shirt, untucking her blouse and slowly undoing the buttons from the bottom, and then she moans.. And she would watch him, cheeks flushed red as he unbuttons her shirt.

Her hands, still on his shoulders.

Jade would run his hands, from the bottom wire of her brassiere, to the fullness of her, cupping her breasts with his hands as she slowly reached for another kiss. Hands heavy around her, and then back to where he knows she loves it best. Orchestrating touches that earned him the sweetest of sounds. Her chest, her neck, and then again, her jaw. Followed by wet kisses, and eager nips. Hands finding themselves back down her breasts again, and Asami would always wonder when she’d black out during this slow languid way he fondled her. Her blouse would be on the floor in an instant. And his hands were already pulling by her ass, lips and tongue now lapping at her full softness.

Jade was sure she won’t always be conscious of it, but her hands would pull him closer by the nape, breathless and parched for him. Music clung to its pilgrims. And he is, as he so lovingly puts it, both the virtuoso and the instrument. Only for her songs, only for her pleasure.

“It felt like forever,” it was a gradual process, how she eased into his fins. And Jade almost marveled at how their little human lost her composure the closer they fell for each other. Closer and closer , slowly, she revealed herself to him like she had never before, even after all these years of knowing.

Jade knew how much of herself she devoted to Kingscholar, so, to see her come undone like this, for him specifically, was a sight to behold. A reward for all that waiting.

Though she wasn’t one to take charge, the way she pushed him down his leather sofa proved to be quite the surprise for Jade. The way her chest heaved let the silk organza she wore shimmer under the warm lights of his loft. Like mellow clouds illuminating heaven, and she was the brightest shine, the goddess that pulled that world of light and love together.

He felt blessed to be in this form. In this form, his hands could run from her shoulders, to the small of her back. Down to her ass, a place he didn’t think would be this delectable, this tempting. Her cheeks have the sweetest tint of apples, and he quite liked the way she looked whenever she was embarrassed. Parted lips that seemed to call out to him, in every language--- human and merfolk, how her shoulders pulled themselves together under his gaze, how she’d avert her eyes— his stare can be too much for her— she admits that one time.

But Jade was quite fond of that look on her face.

And as Asami watched his eyes, she almost forgot how his hands were already undoing the last button that let her blouse down. Curious, slender fingers now teasing the top part of her chest as he pulled her closer, and closer.

She knew Jade knew his way around her like this. Her bra would come undone in an instant, and sometimes she’d wonder how much experience he’s had before her. Before all of this.

He is careful as his mouth enveloped her like this. She trusted him to be careful, though Asami knew, after a certain point in time, that Jade needed more. He needed to let the ferocity hidden behind features like alabaster and pearl, behind polite speech, behind knifelike teeth out.

Out to ravage her.

And the old fear she knew around him slowly sublimated, slowly fed a newfound feeling for him.

Something akin to the hunger she once felt for someone else, though she tried her bestest not to compare.

Wet. It was warm and wet. And though at times Jade Leech looked like he was nothing but.

Though she knew his form under the sea, savage and cold— unforgiving—the Jade before him was warm, inviting, just as hungry as she was. Just as parched as she was.

And she would gasp, and wrap her arms around him. Her face hid by the crook of his neck. Jade’s hands now grabs her thighs, and slowly drags himself across her skin. Fingers now find himself on her inner thigh, and she would gasp again. The anticipation nearly unbearable for Asami, but she quite liked the thrill of waiting. She was primed to wait, and Jade was always set to reward her.

“I— I thought I’d,” she thought about it. Taking charge. But Jade is always quick to give her the illusion that she could. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t think she would be capable of it. It was more that he enjoyed the image of her unravelling. The sounds she makes as his fingers tease her wetness. Her eagerness was fully displayed by the lack of underwear. But Jade quite liked how she kept the garterbelt on, and how the stockings hugged her plump thighs. Jade didn’t think it would be possible to want a human woman like this. To hunger for a creature of land, like this.

“I didn’t think you were the naughty type,” he chuckled against her hair. And then, he inhales . A deep inhale, savouring the air around her like this, with this form . His two fingers now inside her wet cunt, Asami moans and Jade lets himself breathe more of her, strands of her raven hair getting caught between his teeth, her hands around him tighter.

“Only, if you’ll be the one to punish me,” she tries her best, sometimes she’ll play a part - but Asami is always soft, always so sweet. He admits playing pretend sometimes gets his fins excited, gets his mouth watering, his cock hard. But Jade loved her like this. Just as much as the timid and docile Asami he’s loved over the years.

His hands reached for her ponytail, a soft thug. She moans after a soft gasp. Jade’s mouth smothering her breasts with kisses and nips. His other hand pumping into her core softly, but deeply. Two, and then three. Asami’s hands are tight around him, holding herself together. He could be unforgiving, and she’s learned to brace herself when he is in a steady pace like this.

His hands on the knot that holds her hair together, now tighter. Pulling her hair tight, slowly wrapping her hair around his wrist. His mouth lapped at her nipple, taking her— as much as possible — in his mouth.

“I’ve missed you, Asami—” he murmurs onto her skin, followed by wet nips and then gently picks her up. She holds on to him, arms wrapping tight around his neck. She didn’t like it when he did this, but it stirs something inside Asami and she can only go quiet, she can only let him.

And he carries her, legs wrapping around his lithe figure, towards his bedroom. He is as quiet as she is. And he inhales the scent of her hair. Jade gently pushes the door close with his heel, and then very gently settles her there.

The finest artefact he’s ever acquired off land.

Chapter 2: Tamed by You

Trinkets and treasures, flora and fauna he’s collected off the land receive a special space in his loft. Carefully curated around him, like the work of the princess of the sea who collected treasures from sunken ships. How he admired her fortitude. How he wished to be surrounded by such beautiful, such wonderful things, too.

Surely, none of them could be bad?

But only the empress of his world deserves the prime space of his collection, the shelf of his bed.

Unfortunately, his empress seems displeased. Being carried, like the way he brought her to the bed… Jade knows she dislikes it. That it reminds her of someone else, someone with the same kind of fury, but rougher, harder.

The sight of her pouting worries Jade, but it amuses him just as much. He hovers over on his mattress , the weight of him like an aphrodisiac seeping into her skin, into her lungs, into her lust.

“I told you,” she whispers, cheeks flushed, and the corners of her eyes shining with almost tears. “I don’t like being carried,” and he knows this. He knows this well.

But couldn’t help doing it anyway.

He plants a chaste kiss on her cheek, and then her forehead, his hand smoothing her forehead under him. “Forgive me,” he hisses, whilst taking her hand and planting soft kisses around her knuckles and fingers. Jade never wants to truly disappoint or upset her in any way.

But if it will rile her up in the end, he has the tendency to try.

“What would you like?” Another kiss, to her wrist. Then to her elbow, while he waits for her to decide and answer. His eyes never leave hers. Asami hums, and she takes a minute, while watching him plant kisses all over her hands and wrist, and then she takes him by the hand.

Pulls him back up to her into a full embrace.

She is quiet for a bit as Jade holds her tight. Then, she is facing him again, her eyes misted with want, and lips parted — ready and very, very delectable, to Jade.

“I want you,” she whispers as she pulls him close, lips parting just for him, at least Jade hopes. Her mouth invites him in, making way for only him between those lips of hers. He loves them so dearly. But whenever she expresses it like this, Jade can’t help but wonder if it is really him that she is asking for. He would very much prefer that she call his name.

Sometimes, even in these heady moments of pleasure and satisfaction, Jade’s mind can’t help but go there — to Kingscholar’s image. The subtle ways he dragged her around, as if wielding lace entwined with barbed wire around her neck and she couldn’t quite tell the difference. His indifference towards her, and how she lapped every crumb of affection he hands out every now and then.

How she deserved so much more.

It was ridiculous, how easy it all looked, how easy it all felt. All of a sudden, she was within Leona’s arms. And just like that, he let her go. No explanations, nothing.

But Jade tries to convince himself. That he is the one there, not him.

He is the one undressing Asami, with his hands, in this skin.

Not him. Not Leona Kingscholar.

Jade’s hands push the hems of her skirt up to her waist, and part the soft fabric to reveal her skin. How he has missed her like this, quivering and wet underneath his stare, underneath his hands. He leans in and trails wet, rough and jagged kisses across her neck, to her collarbone, to her shoulder, biting his way back down to her chest. His hands tightly pin her wrists down.

You’re mine, they tell her.

All mine, she hears it through his ragged breathing, through the grip on her skin. His kisses feel like warnings, beware, they tell her. But she isn’t one to listen. Not when his lips are so inviting, not when his hands of alabaster guide her so lovingly toward him. Another kiss, on the side of her breast, and then he sucks on her sensitive skin. Jade knows exactly where to kiss, exactly where to touch to put her in pieces, moaning underneath him. His fingers are trailing where the garterbelt clips, and they are easily undone by his skillful hands.

The sound of his belt unbuckling is music to Asami’s ears. She loves it, and she looks forward to the events he can lead her to after.

Her eyes try their best to focus on him, and the shape of his waist. The abdominal lines that excite her so. His trail, a darker shade of teal that makes her insides quiver. Jade Leech is a curious creature. He’s also a creature of beauty, of ferocity, and something else Asami can’t spell, not with the letters that this world can wield.

Jade knows how much it pleases her, when he is in this state of undress. The blush on her face alone is enough to know: she can’t get enough, and she wants more. More.

Jade leans in, for another sweet and tender kiss, and Asami’s hands are pulling him close, from the nape, and her hands snake around the back of his ear, her fingers gingerly caressing his earlobes. Jade doesn’t understand why she does this, what the need for it is but he lets her anyway. Maybe she is amused with sleeping with a partner who has human ears, maybe? The thought makes Jade chuckle, though she doesn’t ever seem to notice it.

“Jade.” He hovers over her like a spell gone wild, a premonition, and he languidly breathes into her skin, down her abdomen, his fingers following after— and then down her belly, fingers stroking her thighs. Heavy hands now guide her thighs up and open for him, so he can finally have the perfect view of her.

He was quick to learn the ways of pleasure for creatures of the land, but for Asami’s sake, he had to go very slow. He had to make sure he knew what she wanted, or at least, what she thought she wanted. Jade Leech leans in, and she holds her breath, her hands anchoring her to his mattress.

Asami feels him, wet and hot, a very very hot mouth on her. Tongue, a different kind of sensation than what she was used to, not as rough, not as shocking. And she feels the movement of some smooth recitation from Jade Leech’s curious and dangerous lips onto her wet cunt.

He hears the softness of her breath, the music it brings out of her, and Jade is delighted. His hands tighten around her thighs as dips his tongue deeper, alternating sucks and broad drags of his tongue. Tasting her.

She reaches for him, hands desperate to hold him as she looks into his mismatched eyes. Asami likes it whenever Jade does this, and his eyes never leave hers.

When he stares right back into hers, into her core, she feels the affection she has never thought she deserved. The love she has been hoping for. It just took her several years to realise that perhaps, it was meant to come from someplace else, from someone else. She is grateful.

Jade reveres her like an empress, like she is the fairest of all the land - maybe she truly is , for him at the very least.

She is a confection of delicateness, and melodic sighs— everything Jade wants, everything he loves most. Her legs shake from pleasure and the intensity of his touch, and he loves the way she looks as she searches for something, anything, to tether herself into this bed— his domain — desperate to keep herself in place. Because she knows if she doesn’t, she will be drifting away in pieces at how hard he is going at her clit, how hot his mouth feels on her and how much he is teasing her.

But his hands remind her that he is present, he is there.

He is her anchor, and her storm at sea — all in one.

His forearms push her down, while his hands reach for her breasts— he can, even with this form, he surely can— mouth, tongue and almost teeth still on her cunt. There have been times when he thought about doing all of this to her, with her, in his true form, and he wonders if she will ever be up for it. Jade’s mind wanders for a second, but he does not let up, it is still all about her. If he wanders too long, her voice will bring him back, her voice— as if it is truly the most precious, valuable thing in this world — brings him back to the shore of her body, the coast of her softness.

Asami holds her breath when she feels she is close, but Jade Leech wants this to last.

So he sucks hard, earning him a gasp, and then a groan. Asami chants towards enlightenment; she has to redo it and try again, if Jade lets her.

Jade feels it when she opens herself wider, urges him to push her down harder and heavier, she is close. Jade takes her by the thighs, and adjusts himself so he almost looks like he is ready to slip his entire self into her and his tongue yields her soft, hot and wet flesh, and invites her to come. Softly grazing her with his tongue, and then, sucking, and then again licking her softly.

Time feels like it stops when Asami holds herself like this, holds her breath again.

When Jade finally lets her have it, he continues his pace as he listens to her. He is desperate to make her concentrate on her sweet bundle of nerves, the touch of his tongue, and the warmth of his breath onto her.

And she finds release, her thighs tighten around his face and she cries out incoherent words and mews of satisfaction. Jade adores how she coos, and he kisses her inner thigh, continuously, letting her ride the waves of pleasure he so patiently lavished. Jade carefully moves her legs, and moves up to watch her face as she pants. Her eyes find him, smiling, and she doesn't utter a word, but Jade’s fingers are quick to trace her cheeks that are now so red, down to her lips that now look so desperate and wanting for more.

When they meet like this, a few days in the middle of each month, he savours every opportunity to make her come, and Jade finds great satisfaction in making sure she enjoys the best release, every single time. He is particularly proud of the way his masterful hands seemingly wrenched the pearl of her soul out of her oysterlike prison— out of the steel bars of the lion’s den— and into this world that is his bed.

She is his pearl, his treasure.

His precious Asami, pearlescent and soft and beautiful in the centre of his world. How he loves her, how desperate he is to keep her right there. Away from the clutching grip of the past, away from the claws of unrequited love and away from Kingscholar, forever, if this world so allows.

“P-please,” she moans, and she begs. Jade can’t refuse her when she does this. Her voice sounds like she could break, any minute now, his precious pearl. His lone casablanca.

Jade starts slow. Getting accustomed to the pleasures of this form, within this skin, didn’t take very long. She is irresistible to him, and when she first let him have her, he was surprised to find how easily he could break underneath this spell she is so unaware that’s binding his heart, his fangs, his claws and his very essence to her. Her alone.

Jade’s hand now firm on her ass, Asami opens her legs a little bit more, his grip tighter and his breathing slower and heavier than hers as he brushes the tip of his cock against her cunt.

A greedy woman, she truly is. And Jade can feel his lips form a satisfied smile, so maybe he made her this way.

“P-please,” she moans and she begs as he rolls her over.

They fuck hard and she can barely keep herself upright as Jade pushes his entire length and girth inside her. She is thankful he is so considerate, making sure there were pillows underneath her, and her face is properly cushioned. But sometimes she wonders if he truly is thoughtful, with how hard his nails are digging onto her skin, with how hard he is fucking into her.

A heavy force, just as rough when you let him be, Jade Leech.

Leona and Jade - different sides of the same ferocious coin.

But it is funny to Asami how, in between gasps and out-of-breath kisses, in the spaces between Jade thrusting himself into her, she finds these comparisons. She doesn’t want to compare them, but a common ground always seems to connect her hearts to them. Her past, and now present.

Her maelstrom, her lighthouse. Her Jade.

His scent long forgotten, his fangs long absent from her skin. Bruises long healed.

Jade bends down, sucks on her shoulder as he pounds her harder. Harder. Faster. And Asami cannot hear herself and how she is moaning, but Jade can hear her, only her. Sometimes muffled against the pillow, and then she tilts her head to the side and gasps for air.

Hands circle around her, feeling her breasts, and then he adjusts himself, his hands supporting themselves on her hips once more. He smoothes them down to her ass.

Jade knows she likes it hard, and he has always found that he wants to compete with that ferocity he knows she once loved. The only kind of love she knew, until him. Sometimes he wonders if she still loves him. If he is only a replacement. Sometimes his mind wanders. And then he goes harder, harder, pulling her pony out so he can let her hair down. Just to grab it up so it is held by his fingers instead and he can pull her hair so much tighter as he bottoms out. He is rough, and Asami is near to tears. But she likes it, she loves it. He knows she does.

“J-Jade,” she moans, drooling on her pillow. Jade pulls out, turns her so she is laying on her back. “Face me,” he growls. His voice lower now, deeper. His hands are pushing her thighs down and open, and he goes for it yet again. His thumb slowly glide down her clit as he enters her again. She gasps sharply, her eyes watching his every move, so she sees the shimmer in his eyes - dark and dangerous- and the way it encourages her to let go and come again.

He wishes someone could watch the way he fucks her. There is elegance there. His ferocity is carefully wrapped around by elegance, wrapped around her and her finger, though she doesn’t know this. Not fully.

He fucks her hard. And he takes her ankles and plants wet kisses there. Alternating with eager nips, bending and then pushing her down, harder. Kisses to her knees, it feels so good. “Ah-,” he grunts as he pushes down her legs, this lets him go deeper, more forceful.

The composure and finesse that hold Jade Leech’s demeanor together slowly break as he fucks her.

Jade knows that she isn’t made of glass. She can take it, blow by blow. So he wants to make her. He repositions them again, and puts her up so she is sitting on his lap. And then he lets her work herself down on him. He grips her tightly around the waist before he slides his hands toward her ass. His middle finger gently strokes her there, wringing another sharp gasp out of her. He knows Asami finds support around his neck whenever he teases her like this. She is breathless, and she is blushing, but she wants all of this and more.

The perfect view of her face, and the expression she is now wearing— so different, a far cry from her prim, proper, pure self outside his domain.

Only for him, she is like this only for him. Only like this— because of him.

Jade Leech doesn’t think he is deep enough, so he pushes her down, shocking Asami with the swift movement. Jade’s laboured breathing is something she can never get used to, just like the way he blushes whenever they are so close like this thrills her. His hungry eyes seem to see through all of her, exciting her insides, making her drip. Jade is thrusting into her again, and she can feel how close she is. His pace becomes more erratic, his elegance slowly crumbling to a jerky staccato that’s very unlike his usual rolls into her.

“Asami,” he hisses in between heavy breaths, and she tries to touch his thighs— as he fucks into her, starved and ravenous like the predator that he truly is. She wants to touch him too. She wants him too. She wants her hands all over him too.

Asami’s soft fingers call out to him, and he is quick to go into her embrace. His hips crash onto hers so feverishly she feels her whole body jerk and bob up and down. She feels good, she loves his relentlessness. He is close himself, brought there by her body, by her arms around him.

She stretches for a kiss. Her fingers toy with his earring, as their lips lock once more.

What is it about predators that attract her attention, make her fingers tingle? What is it about carnivores? Asami doesn’t understand it, but she knows Jade is so beautiful to her. She can feel him hitting the deepest parts of her. There is a slight sting, but the pleasure of him, the pleasure of it all, is stronger.

“I love you,” escapes her soft lips, and Jade wonders if she is really talking to him. Sometimes the trust he so lovingly bestowes upon her betrays him in the most unfortunate moments. But he tries to push that thought aside, looks directly into her eyes so he can see only her and she can see only him.

And how the light seems to reflect on her eyes, always. He loves her, too— of course he does, so much. He has thought of her with fondness since the first time they met. It took him a long fucking time to make his move but here he is, cock-deep in her, finally.

Not for the first time and not the last.

That thought is what makes him come, hot and slick inside and desperate to stay there. Her legs squeeze him lovingly, her arms pull him tight as he bites the side of her neck and feels how the last of his release oozes into her This skin, his temporary form, how grateful he is for it right now. How grateful he is for anything that lets him be with her.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

The aftermath of it all is a sacred time for Jade. He lays beside her, eyes carefully watching the soft shadows of her lashes on her cheeks, even breathing from her softly parted lips. The dark of her hair all over his pillow and her back, she lays on her tummy and he pokes her cheek with a soft chuckle.

What a beautiful creature, he thinks to himself. He won’t ever get used to it, he won’t ever get tired of her, this view and the many things they could learn and explore together. Jade runs his fingers through her hair, and gives her a kiss on her cheek.

And then on her fringe, inhaling deeply. He wanted to run a bath for her, but she insisted on staying in bed, and being held. He can never refuse her.

Even though Jade is the one who trims the stems of the bouquet, and sets each flower in place...even though he is the one usually in control, she rules his heart. He is on his knees because of her. She is the queen of lilies after all, the empress of his world, his precious pearl. He cannot force her and he cannot taint her.

He can only try to improve her vase.

Maybe this is what brought the king to his knees. Maybe this is why he left. Maybe he realised how big an impact she could make on his life, on his heart. But that thought makes Jade chuckle. He hasn’t been a coward, he thinks. And he marvels at how long she has waited, and how long he waited for her, the intersections in the past where they connected and met. He believes, has believed for so long, that he is the one for her.

The delicate petals, much like her lips, the precise way the flower bends, the purity of it all— his heart sings for the queen of lilies, for his casablancas.

Carefully curated, skillfully placed, within his domain.

Purest white set upon the backdrop of his darkness, elegance and ferocity…but he knows deep down, he is a mere devotee. Not a director.

Beauty tames ferocity. Always.

A/N: I just want to say thank you A BIG BIG THANK YOU to pseudofaux for helping me with this delicate piece. I wanted to stay consistent and faithful to the first chapter. I also never really written a full sexual scene so I was struggling a lot. Thank you Pseu for your patience and for your hardwork. Thank you.

I also want to thank scummy for helping me sent the pace and tone/flow of the first draft. Thank you so much!

Thank you so much for reading this piece! If you enjoyed this story, please do let me know what you think! If you're interested to see more of my TWST art,

I am over twitter most of the time. ♡(｡- ω -)

#twisted wonderland #twst jade #Jade Leech #Asami Oda #onibeni writes

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lovesosweeet · 6 months

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

august 29, 2018 uncasville, connecticut calum

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about being away from Orion for this long. It’s almost been a month, and we still talk almost every day. I know I can’t expect for things to feel all that normal. I left her alone in LA. She has a life there. I’m busy, touring with the band.

I think days like today are when I feel it the most. We’re in a random ass city in New England. We have a show tonight, but today we aren’t doing press, and there’s not exactly a lot to do in Connecticut. It’s just another day with the boys, whom I love dearly, but don’t exactly have a lot of fresh topics to talk to them about.

At least it felt okay to sleep in this morning. A lot of days it feels like a waste of being in a cool city or a waste of being close to family to sleep in, but in Uncasville, Connecticut, sleeping until 11 feels like an appropriate start to the day.

I wake up to a few texts from Orion, which is unsurprising but always good to see.

From: my love + stars good morning hi hello i couldn’t sleep last night i am zombie today running on hella coffee i think duke misses you he keeps going into your studio and pacing around it’s so sad do you think he can come to the venue in san diego? omg i can get him a little shirt that says “i <3 5sos” can you imagine if i do that you have to post it to your story so the fans can see they would die hope you have so much fun in the fantastic town of uncasville today!!!!

To: my love + stars it’s always a good morning when i can hear from you! very good morning to you my very beautiful girlfriend my favorite zombie you can eat my brains if you want send me duke pics rn i miss him too please bring him!!!! i’m pretty sure dogs are allowed. i will riot if not. yknow you could post it yourself. just make your profile public ya silly goose. the fans love you now.

From: my love + stars cal if you ever don’t hear from me in the morning you need to call the cops i will always say hi asap i will eat your brains first look how cute dukey is!!!!!!! Images attached (3) they occasionally tOleRaTE me NOW. the tables could turn at any time.

To: my love + stars i will never call the cops on you you can do no wrong even if you eat my brains don’t tell duke’s mom but i think i miss my son more than i miss his mom (I AM KIDDING I PROMISE) literally the only reason the tables would turn is if you were a shitty person and you’re the best person i know so you’re good of course only go public if you want but just sayin the world would be a better place if everyone could see your beautiful sunset selfies

From: my love + stars somebody call 911 shawty’s lying to me on the dance flo it’s ok if you miss duke more than me i am not offended i swear you know i won’t go public i just don’t need that chaos in my life i love quietly lurking on stan twitter from my burner account

To: my love + stars i am not lying i miss you more than i have ever missed anyone duke is close second dw it could be a rush to go public for a day and then go back private see what happens

From: my love + stars stop you’re gonna make me cry in the club rn it would be not fun cal you know this i’d get a bunch of DIE BITCH I COULD TAKE UR MAN IF I WANT TO YOU’RE SO UGLY and maybe a sprinkle of wow you’re kinda cool sometimes

I’m not sure how long it’s been that Orion and I are just sitting here texting each other back and forth until Ashton is giggling across the room at me.

“What are you making all those faces for, Cal?” He asks.

I flip him off. “Just texting Orion.”

“Oooh, what are you guys talking about?” Luke walks in the room, a banana in hand and Sierra trailing behind him carrying a Starbucks cup.

I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just telling her she should make her Instagram public, and she thinks it’d just open up a door for death threats.”

“The fans like her now, don’t they?” Luke asks. He plops down on the couch next to me, and Sierra sits on his right side. He looks around the room at all of us, searching for confirmation.

“She always gets love when I post a picture with her in it,” Ashton confirms.

It’s no secret that I’m not exactly an active user on any social media, so even though I have millions of photos of me and Orion, I don’t share them much. That’s both due to my personal social media habits and Orion’s wishes to keep her presence on my social media to a minimum. It’s kind of like her rule for flowers — only for special occasions.

Ashton, on the other hand, posts a few photos at a time to his story and feed pretty regularly, and more often than not, if there’s a group picture, Orion is in it. He’s also the only one that really hangs out with Orion on her own regularly, so naturally they have more photos of the two of them. That said, if she’s only getting positive comments on Ashton’s posts, I’m sure she’d get positive reactions if she shared her own.

“I’m not saying she should or shouldn’t,” Sierra starts. “But I definitely get why she doesn’t want a public profile.”

“I mean, to be fair, a lot of what she posts is of you guys,” Luke adds. He’s not wrong. Because her profile is private and she can pick and choose who follows her, she feels fine to post whatever she wants, and that means posting a lot of pictures with me, of me, and of Duke. “She definitely wouldn’t want to do that if she went public.”

I sigh, knowing that Sierra and Luke are probably right, and Orion is too, even if she’s not completely accurate with what would actually happen if she made her profile public. I decide to drop it.

“Where’s that Starbucks at?” I decide to ask, changing the subject. I nod at Sierra’s coffee cup in her hand.

With the address in hand, I head off to find someone to drive me to the Starbucks and go back to texting Orion.

To: my love + stars it’s pretty early to be in the club but still don’t cry just a little over a month. we’ve got this!! only go public if you want. i support you regardless and happy to be bad cop and defend you in your comments if you needed

From: my love + stars a 2018 shakespearean level romance defending me in an IG comment section i’m a lucky girl

read next chapter

a/n: fillery chapter ik. but still plantin a seed for something later on. i posted this poll but also feel free to drop a comment on your wishes on this post too pls n thx.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #fanfiction #fanfic #5sosfam #imagine #calum 5sos #calum imagine #calum x fem!oc #calum x ofc

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simonxriley · 3 years

Text

OC lore part 1 of 7 for @gear-redfield

Since I have a ton of ocs I’m gonna start off with the ones that are in different fandoms and then work my way through the fandoms I have multiple ocs for. I think I’m gonna do 5-6 HCs for them so it won’t be a mile long. The other ocs I’ll go into more details (maybe).

Riley Sanders (Metro Series)

Has three Watchers for pets, they’re her babies. But there was barely any room on the Aurora for them until they ended up getting the other rail carts. They tend to sleep anywhere they want, mostly in place where they stop people from moving around the train.

She’s not very talkative, likes to keep to herself for the most part. The people she talks with the most is Ulman, Artyom, Anna and Duke. That was until Katya and Nastya joined them.

Being able to breathe fresh air was kind of liberating for her. It made her happy that there were placing where you can live and breathe on the surface, not stuck in the dark, cold and damp metro.

Besides her and Ulman, Nastya was the first of the Aurora crew to hold their son.

Her brother wasn’t with her when that whole issue on the train occurred. He has no idea if she’s alive or not and she vice versa. She’s hoping she’ll be able to see him soon and have him meet his new nephew.

Amazing at stealth. Can sneak by a group or camp in a matter of minutes without killing anyone.

Kenadee “The Viper” Taylor (Ghost Recon)

She joined the US Army right out of high school with her high school sweetheart, Maverick. They married a year later and a year after that had their daughter Addison.

Joined Delta Force at the age of 24. That whole selection process was rigorous but very rewarding.

She has a very happy outlook on life, always bubbly. You wouldn’t think she’s apart of Delta. It throws people off every time.

Lost her husband in the field when their daughter was 5 years old. She retired after that and moved back to her hometown of San Diego where she could raise their daughter in a better environment.

Joined Nomad’s Ghosts five and a half years later. All thanks to Midas, who she met because their kids go to school together.

Carries around a knife coated in snakes venom, only uses it during interrogations.

Anja Kovic (Uncharted)

Was born to Borislav Kovic, a General Major in the Yugoslavia Ground Forces and Svetlana Kovic, a former nurse. Also the younger sister to Vladimir.

She grew up in a highly abusive household under her fathers rule. He had that mindset of the men work and the woman stay home, then add on the strictness of being in a military family.

Wanted to be a nurse growing up but those dreams got shot down when her father married her off to the war lord Zoran Lazarevic at the age of 18.

Marriage to Zoran was horrific, she was just happy he spent more time in the field than with her. His death did not sadden her whatsoever.

Lost her mother to suspicious circumstances when she was twelve. Leaving her and her older brother at the will of their father.

After Zoran’s death she was finally free. She left for Serbia in search of finding her brother and during that time gave birth to her and unfortunately Zoran’s son, naming him Dragan. And yes, she did find her brother and became the nurse she always wanted to be.

Evelyn “Evie” Hazelton (The Order 1886)

Was born to Edith Hazelton and an unnamed father in London, England on October 1st, 1860. (Her mom was a prostitute)

She lived in a brothel up until her mom’s murder. She loved it, to be surrounded with so many women that helped her through her life, gave her advice and helped molded her into the woman she is today.

Sir Percival/Malory gave her a spot on the Order after her mom’s death and she became the protege of Sir Galahad/Grayson. There she learned how to fight and shoot a gun.

The first time she ever saw a werewolf she thought it was a big dog. It was late at night, she was young and couldn’t tell since it was in the far distance.

Has a scar going down her back from being scratched by a werewolf during a fight.

Very protective of the people she cares about. She was the only person who pleaded not guilty during Grayson’s trial because she knows him. She knew he wouldn’t have worked with the rebellion if it didn’t suit a good cause.

Lydia Wilson (Call of Cthulhu)

Her parents were apart of the cult that was trying to bring back Cthulhu. However, they left Darkwater when Lydia was five and moved to Boston.

No matter how much her parents tried to make her forget the past, she didn’t. She still has memories of the cult, what the uniforms looked like, the masks. It never left her.

Started hearing the voice of the Leviathan in her dreams once she hit her late 20′s. Eventually she caught wind of what he wanted and she set sail for Darkwater, a place she hasn’t been since she was five.

Her father ran a tailoring shop and she helped a lot through her childhood.

When she spaces out she has a resting bitch face. It makes her loo unapproachable according to her mother.

The first time she saw the Shambler she though she was hallucinating. That wasn’t the case and she never wants to deal with it again.

Lily (MCU)

Born on the planet Prometheus. A planet cover in lush green grass and waterfalls.

Ever since she was a child she had this fight in her. She use to find a decent sized stick and pretend to fight a tree.

Was married to Thanos for over 20 years. The only good that came out of it were her kids.

Joined the Avengers after Thanos’ death. It was nice to be around people and strike up conversations. She just loved learning about Earth and she would talk about her home world.

She was the first owner of the scepter until it was given to Loki. That made her angry, she really loved that scepter.

The first person she befriended was Carol Danvers because her youngest daughter, Lotus really liked her.

Ashlynn Davenport (Tomb Raider)

Was born into Trinity. Her father was a sergeant in the Trinity army and her mom was a nurse.

She liked her life for the most part, loved her parents and friends, but the more she found out about Trinity and all the harm they do she wanted out. Unfortunately they didn’t happen when she was being married off to the Trinity field commander, Konstantin.

Being married to Konstantin meant moving around a lot, never really staying in one place for too long. Once the mission was done then they moved on. She didn’t mind it, not at first. She liked traveling around and seeing the world, but the stuff Trinity did put a bad taste in her mouth.

Ash can be quite manipulative when she wants to be. It was something she learned from her dad growing up.

She helped Lara take down Trinity from the inside when they were looking for the divine source. No one figured it out, all of thinking it was Lara.

Ashlynn actually loved Konstantin, she just thought his mind was corrupted by his sister and was trying to make him see what was right. So when he died she was pretty pissed and was going to say her true feeling to Ana. Unfortunately the Trinity sniper got to Ana first. Leaving her with a bunch of anger inside her.

Sawyer Monrow (TLOU)

She was 12 at the time of when the cordycepts outbreak began. Her life was pretty great as well and then over night everything changed.

Her family ended up at the Hartford QZ, where her and her younger brother went through military training (just like in Boston) to teach them how to kill infected and other humans if necessary.

Met Joel and Ellie in Pittsburgh. She was with Henry and Sam at the time and after their deaths she stayed with them and made the trek to Jackson.

She can be very standoff-ish at first glance. It’s how she acts in this apocalyptic world, more so to protect herself and because she doesn’t trust people.

Started a relationship with Joel a year and a half later. He was the first person she really let in and was happy for the few years they were together. She even considers Ellie like a little sister.

She lost her family when the Hartford QZ fell. She tried to save her brothers, but couldn’t. That still haunts her to this day.

Phaedra Alexeyev (Werewolf The Apocalypse)

She’s very good at backstabbing and manipulating people. All thanks to her former caern. A part of her hates it, but the other knows how in handy it can be.

She was born at the Shadow Lords Thunderstrike Sept, Ural Mountains, Russia. Close to the city of Chelyabinsk.

Phaedra and Cahal became a surrogate family after they both had to kill a family member.

Always the first ready to jump into the action. When there’s a fight she’s on the front lines, she’s not going to miss out. And she just likes to fight in general.

She born under a full moon making her have the Ahroun Auspices.The Full Moon makes the Ahroun the living weapon of Gaia. They are the warrior among a race of warriors, the champion of a martial people. Ever ready to kill, and to die if need be.

Her name means Bright Defender.

Emma Ross (Stargate Atlantis)

Joined the Marines to help pay for her college tuition. She surprisingly enjoyed it and continued to serve as she got her degree in science.

Lived a very mundane life growing up. Had two wonderful parents, a good upbringing, nothing exciting really happened. Which might have been the reason she joined the military.

The hardest thing she has to do is lie to her friends and family when she was transferred over to the Atlantis expedition. Being so far away from them sucks, but with the Daedalus she has more of a chance to go visit them.

As much as she’s in danger, she’s never felt more alive than being on Sheppard’s team. All the action just makes her blood pump.

Ronon calls her ‘red’ due to her being a red head. She finds it kinda funny.

She’s very friends and loves to strike up conversations whenever she can. Getting to know more people on Atlantis made living there easier.

#gear-redfield #oc riley sanders #oc kenadee taylor #oc anja kovic #oc evie hazelton #oc lydia wilson #oc lily #oc ashlynn davenport #oc sawyer monrow #oc phaedra alexeyev #oc emma ross #long post

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racheloveyunho · 3 years

Text

Till death do us part - 4

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, smut, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 1883

TW series: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

TW chapter: Obsessive behavior (from Y/N’s and San’s side), threats, swearing and a hint of jealousy.

Here it was, the silhouette I liked the most

"San..."

He hugged me tightly as if there was no tomorrow. I noticed how he was sweaty and out of breathe, probably from running to get to me faster.

I breathed in his unique scent, it was woody scent, something fresh but still manly. I felt safer with him, everything was easier when he was by my side. I didn't want to let him go and my feelings seemed mutual as he tightened his grip on my waist.

I was like a piece of metal attracted to a magnet.

We sat down on the bed and he let me cry my heart out, listening every word I had to say. I told him my story, my conflictual relationship with my father, how harsh he was with me and my brother since my mom passed away and my arranged wedding with this Hwang Jinyoung.

We talked for two good hours about my problems but also about the future we both wanted.

As time went on, I started to feel sleepy, my eyelids were heavy and my mind was cloudy. I slowly closed my eyes until I fell into a deep sleep into San's arms. He gently patted my head to help me fall asleep.

"Don't worry Y/N, I will protect you from now on."

San hummed a song before falling asleep by Y/N’s side.

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

Chapter 4

I woke up in the same room I felt asleep on. The unusual walls made my heart ache at the thought of what had happened between my father and I. I knew deep inside me that there will be no turning back with my relationship with him but strangely enough, i didn't feel bad about it, I was more concerned about my brother than anything.

"Did you sleep well?"

I looked up and was greeted by this angelical face of his. San was laying on the same bed as me, one of his muscular arm holding my frame tightly. I smiled back and hide my face on his chest, smelling his addictive scent at the same time.

"I did."

It was a weird feeling. I knew almost nothing of San, I met him three times and still... I felt as if I could give him my whole body and soul. I couldn't help but think about what my mom told me when I was still a child.

"Someday you will find someone you can rely on, someone who doesn't need words to know how you feel, someone who understand and cherish you as the most precious thing in the world. You will find this person one day Y/N, I'm sure of it."

My lips came upward in a smile as I remembered my mom's word, they had a new meaning to me since I met San.

His grip tightened a little around me while his other hand was busy, gently petting my hair.

"You are acting like a boyfriend"

"Do you like it?"

"Very much" I smiled, looking fondly at him and before I knew it, San leaned on and kissed me slightly.

His lips felt like feather, there was nothing but sweetness and love in this kiss, his right hand cupped my cheek and rubbed his thumb against the soft skin.

When our lips finally moved apart, I looked up to meet his - oh so lovely - gaze.

"You are so beautiful"

"Say the man whom is beauty itself" I giggled softly.

This moment was almost perfect - almost.

My mind was quick to remember about the bitterness of the situation I was in. I looked down sadly, avoiding San's intrigued eyes.

A lot of questions were running on my mind. What will happen from now on? I was still minor and my dad was stubborn, he would never let me escape from his grasp so easily. How will I survive? I didn't even had enough money to stay on this hotel for more than a week.

Unconsciously, I sighed heavily. San took my chin between his thumb and his index and lift my face towards his.

"What is it?" San asked me in a whisper.

"Did you bring your phone with you? I have to call Hana, she must be worried."

After a few seconds, he nodded and gave me his phone. I entered the familiar number and quickly enough, Hana's voice was heard through the phone.

"Y/N!! Is everything okay? I was worried sick! I thought you were coming early in the morning?" Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence. I frowned my eyebrows. She was whispering yelling and it was odd since she was always a loud girl.

"Sorry, I didn't wake up. Why are you this quiet?" I suspiciously asked.

"Y/N, I don't think you should come here, your father was there one hour ago and he was beyond furious! He threatened me and my family, saying that he will ruin our lives if he find out we are hiding you from him!" She cried out.

This sentence came before a long and heavy silence where no one dared to talk. My mind was processing this new information while my heart was scolding me for bringing my best friend and her family into a delicate situation.

San was quietly listening to our conversation, his right hand on top of mine while his thumb was gently rubbing the back of my hand..

"I'm so sorry Hana... I didn't mean to bring you into this mess..." I lowered my voice, guilt eating me alive.

"Hey sweety... It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong but... I don't think this is a good idea to go against your father will. He is really scary."

"Are you telling me to came back home and let my father do everything he wants with me?" My throat felt suddenly dry and my heart heavy in my chest.

No answer.

I knew she was just afraid of what could possibly happen to her and her family, she just wanted to protect her loved ones. However, I couldn't help but feel betrayed. She knew how my father was and how hard it was for me to handle this situation.

"I see. Don't worry for me, I'm gonna find a way." I finally stated with the coldest voice I could muster. I didn't let her the time to give an answer and hung up right away.

I stayed silent for a while and so did San.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally looked up at him and sighed with a small smile "Thank you for what you did to me. I owe you one"

"Why are you talking as if you are going somewhere?" he arched his eyebrows before leaning close to me with his signature smirk of his "I'm not planning to let you go away from me, love."

I gasped in surprise "L-love?" I asked stuttering, embarrassed by this sudden pet name.

"Why are you embarrassed about? We just kissed a few minutes ago"

I avoided his gaze and coughed slightly to get rid of the awkwardness "I can't stay here San... You will be in trouble if my dad find out you helped me and I don't want it to happen."

This time, it was San's turn to sight.

"Y/N. Listen to me. I will let you two choices" I frowned but stayed silent to let him continue "You don't know who I am but I can help you. However I won't take you with me if you don't want to. It's up to you. Do you want to stay with me, where I'll promise to keep you safe by my side, or do you want to go back and be toyed your entire life by your father against your own will?"

Silence again.

His face was serious and his voice demanding, It actually made me think I couldn't choose the latter choice - not that I wanted to choose this option anyway.

"Why are you doing this.. I mean, we don't know much about each other and-"

"Kim Y/N, born in Seoul the 25th September 1999 at 3:48. You like horror movies and all kind of sweets, your mother passed away the 4th June and since then, your father had changed completely, leaving you and your brother behind" San said, never breaking visual contact with me "You are the student with the best grades on your class and you are the teacher's favorite and even though you want to attend the prestigious Seoul national college, you don't know what to do in your life yet"

I was astonished, how did he get all his information?

As if on cue, he slipped a hand in my hair "It's been two years now Y/N, no one know you as much as I do. I know every single details about you but now, I don't want to look at your life from far away, I want to be apart of it" He smiled but frowned as I slowly stepped away from him "were you stalking me all this time?" I asked, heart beating fast.

"Come on, I know you are as obsessed over me as I am over you" He laughed before standing up and quickly doing his hair while looking his own reflect on the mirror “I was there every time you talked to your friend about me”

I watched his every move and couldn’t find anything to say. No matter how crazy it sounded, I knew he was right.

"And how are you gonna help me?"

"Your dad isn't all white, quite the contrary" He said "I know enough to tell him to let you be" He added.

"Are you going to... threaten him?" I looked at him through the mirror.

"Why? You don't want me to?" He smiled at me, his back still facing me.

I took a deep breathe.

"No... He deserves it"

He turned around and came closer to me with the widest smirk.

"So... Are you coming with me?"

I watched as the landscape kept changing from outside the window. The spacious car was moving in slow pace in a part of Seoul I never went in.

I knew it was the beginning of something new but everything seemed so unreal, the only thing that kept me back to reality was the warmth of San's hand intertwining with mine.

I quickly take a glance at the driver, his sharp nose and strong eyes made him look cold, a perfect contrast with his tanned skin. I was surprised by how young he was, probably not much older than San and I and obviously both of them were getting along with each other.

I was so focus on looking at the man and wondering who he was to San that I didn't took notice of my staring until I felt San squeezing my hand.

"Y/N...I'm not sure of how I feel about you looking at another man" He pouted cutely to grab my attention back to him. I laughed lowly and gave him a apologetic look "I'm not sure how I feel about you being jaleous while we are not in an official relationship yet" I smirked at him.

"The kiss wasn't official enough for you?" He smirked back "should I give you an other one then? " He asked, his face coming closer to mine.

His lips ghosted over mine but we were interrupted by a loud cough before we could properly touch each other.

"Please San, can you keep your hands for yourself until you both are alone? I don't especially want to see you guys kiss in the back seat of my car" The driver said in a rather annoyed tone.

"Look who is talking" San scoffed "Should I remind you how many times you made out with your girlfriend in front of me?"

The older man let out a dry laugh, his eyes still on the road.

After a few minutes of a comfortable silencex the driver looked at me from the front mirror.

"Your name is Y/N, right?"

"Yes... And you are..?"

"I'm Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa" He said "I'm glad to meet you, San wouldn't shut up and talk about you every fucking day" He laughed, earning another loud scoff from San.

"Watch your mouth, you are older but I'm still the boss here" San growled.

Suddenly, the car stopped abruptly.

"We safely came back to your home sir~" Seonghwa politely stated, not without a hint of teasing in his voice.

San pulled me out of the car, hand still holding mine firmly. I followed him and looked up at the huge mansion in front of us.

My mouth fell agape, this place was way bigger than mine.

"Welcome to your new house" San smiled.

-----------

We are finally starting to introduce the others members!

Also this chapter is a bit shorter, I didn’t even noticed until I checked the number of words but I thought it was better this way, there was nothing to add since the next chapter was already done lol.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!

See you next time~

Tag list:

@hijirikaww @pinkchampagne2 @xduygu-arsx @joongiebug @leicy0756

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dorminchu · 3 years

Text

Insult to Injury: The Director's Cut — Chapter 01

Note: All right, it's been a hot minute since I uploaded anything substantial in regard to this fic. So I'm going to try something a bit risky! I've archived Insult to Injury as you all know it, with the exception of a few errant reblogs outside of my control. But that's neither here nor there; I am very excited to present to all of you all the definitive version of this fic — the Director's Cut, if you will. ;)

Fandom: James Bond Characters: Madeleine Swann, Lyutsifer Safin, various OC(s) Relationships: Madeleine & OC(s) Warnings: Strong language, intense scenes of violence, general cynicism. Rating: M Genre: Crime/Drama Summary: A troubled psychologist desperate to escape her past criminal ties finds herself drawn into a far more insidious schism. [Post-Skyfall]

[Ao3 | FFNet]

— ACT I —

“Everything which is done in the present, affects the future by consequence, and the past by redemption.” — Paulo Coelho

— Episode I: A THOUSAND DETAILS —

In the sterile comfort of her office, Dr Madeleine Swann stared blankly at her computer monitor. The notification that her application as a psychologist consultant with the Médecins Sans Frontières had been sent six days prior blurred with lack of focus. The location of the mission in question was Conakry, Guinea. Her contract duration would last from the start of May to the end of August; just shy of two months away from now. There was an additional caveat:

All non-ECOWAS foreigners are required to have a valid Guinean visa and a vaccination card in order to be granted entry. Yellow fever vaccination cards are verified upon entry into the country at Gbessia.

Approval for the visa necessitated a seventy-two-hour window of clearance. And it would be at least four weeks until she heard back from the Human Resources Office—up to six if she were unlucky. She sat erect and the movement alone was enough to incite a sharp stab of pain into the back of her head. Through the window the sun cast a reddish glare, obfuscating the monitor and warming the nape of her neck. She shoved her face into the heels of her palms while the pressure in her skull abated to a dull throbbing.

Usually she made a habit of drawing the blinds. There were already enough odd complaints about her office being too cold and sterile passed along by the secretary. It had been a stressful enough week that Madeleine saw no reason to keep the shutters closed, so her clients might have something else to focus on besides four polished wooden walls and the analog clock.

What came off to most outsiders as a cool and direct manner of conduct was simply pragmatism. She had a laptop computer used primarily for sending emails. She recorded the bulk of her notes on patients by-hand and revised by means of portable recorder. She kept no photographs in her home nor office. The casual anecdotes she provided to her colleagues were ostensibly as droll as her taste in décor; though her efforts to blend in had largely gone unappreciated.

There wasn’t anything else immediate to review for tonight. She wished a curt good-night to the secretary before donning her coat and exiting into the crisp evening air.

⁂

It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the clinic to the flat. Above her head the clouds hung grey and pregnant with snow. By the time she had ascended the staircase and opened the door to her apartment her fingers prickled. Numbness seeped into her skin. She’d never much cared for the colder seasons.

“You’re back early,” said Arnaud—a fellow Sociology major from her college days. After graduating from Oxford, Madeleine had taken his offer to return to Paris and transfer over to the 8tharrondissement with the understanding that they would be rooming together. Her colleagues back then often referred to them as friends-with-benefits as Madeleine had showed little interest in dating before. After three years of cohabitation, her co-workers at the office wondered how she and Arnaud remained so cordial while balancing their careers and relationship.

“Yes.” Madeleine hung up her coat, noting that he had not yet changed out of his own. “I submitted my request with the MSF a week ago. If I am accepted I’ll be working as a psychologist consultant. In that case, I’ll be out of the country until August at least.”

“Well, you’ve never landed a position that didn’t suit you.” Madeleine smiled politely. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” She looked away from him towards the window. “You could open the blinds. It's very bright in here with the lights on.”

“There’s hardly much to look at when the sun is in your eyes. Isn’t that what you say?”

For the most part, Arnaud was easy to live with. Neither of them required financial support and he was of equitable social standing. Her relentless volunteer work did not always lend much time to get to know his inner mind. “It’s late. Are you going out again?”

“No, I got back first. And it’s fortunate. You looked awfully cold when you came in.”

“I can hardly control the weather. And you needn’t worry, I always carry a key on me.”

“Madeleine, we live together. It wouldn’t be right to avoid you. But you know, if I were going out to an unscrupulous club it would make for a pretty good story.”

“Hm.”

“And knowing you,” Arnaud continued, “you probably won’t be going out drinking. The sunrise disturbs you in the mornings, and you woke up before I did, at seven. I assume you’ve been busy all day. In just a few weeks you’ll be working that much harder. You ought to get some rest while you can.”

“So,” a little cooler, “you’ll be another mission?”

“Most likely.”

“All these countries must seem the same after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. When was the last time you volunteered out of the country? 2011?”

Arnaud laughed. “Jesus, this isn’t a competition.”

“But it’ll give you something to talk about to your friends while I am away.”

Arnaud said nothing. Madeleine frowned. She went into the other room and began to change. He could not approach her in the same casual manner as his peers, nor dissect her outright. His life was one of prestige as well as privilege, and Madeleine could not foster any underlying resentment towards him for acting in his nature. The silence held, strained. Then Arnaud said:

“It’s always been important to you. That’s what should matter.”

⁂

In two weeks’ time she got a response from the HRO; the initial interview was scheduled shortly thereafter. By the middle of April she was making preparations to depart. Thanks to Arnaud’s tactic of avoidance she had little reason to tell him the details. No one would know where she was headed unless they broke inside her laptop and hunted through her mail. The situation in Guinea had kicked into mainstream awareness back in February for a week or so before gradually sinking back into obscurity.

Reports from several news outlets cited the emergence of an outbreak primarily affecting South Africa. Originating inland, a mysterious illness that revealed itself first with fever and spells of vomiting, then gradually ate away at the flesh of those afflicted and bore their bones and muscle, vulnerable to further rot. More emboldened journalists had taken to calling it the Red Death on account of this. Neither a cure nor a place or origin had been discovered.

The situation had not improved in the last two months so much as stabilised. Madeleine had been assured several times over email and electronic conference that those working in the field had already taken precautions, and she’d be instructed further on what to do upon her arrival. She was issued a few pamphlets and strongly advised to vaccinate before boarding the flight. Which she had done, but it was very kind of them to remind her.

In spite of Arnaud’s apparent disinterest, his last words to her before she departed had been: “Last year it was four missions. I'd never seen you so tired. I wish I knew what you’re trying to prove.”

After managing to get some sleep on the plane she touched down Conakry International Airport around mid-morning and contacted the Project Coordinator; a shorter man in his mid-forties with a photogenic smile and toupee. He clasped her hand in both of his clammy ones and said: “Very glad you've made it, Doctor. We need you on-site in twenty minutes. Make sure you are ready.” Her luggage was dropped off on the second floor of the Grand Hotel de L’independence, where she and the other MSF members would be rooming. The staff were polite enough, though their attention was fixed on the Project Coordinator.

Her room was spare and a little dingy, and the only means of fresh air came from opening the window and polluting the room with outside noise, but it was at least reasonably clean. A fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. No reason to delay the inevitable.

Upon reaching Donka Hospital she met up with the rest of the team, most notably the Medical Coordinator, and the Psychosocial Unit. It soon became apparent that there were still not enough medical doctors to handle the influx of infected. An isolation ward had been established before the MSF’s involvement, but they were reportedly at full capacity; the workers in there were clad in full-body personal protective equipment. Another section of the grounds had been set aside and fenced off; rows of tents all lined up, reminding Madeleine distantly of a prisoner’s accommodations. No matter where you went the stench of rot always seemed to hang pervasively in the air.

She was paired off with another psychologist by the name of John Herrmann; American, around her age. He was of a friendlier disposition than she was used to, introducing her semi-formally to the rest of the group before adding:

“So, one thing you should know now, we’ve been having problems with the electricity on site as well as the hotel. There’s no running water either.”

“This isn’t my first mission with MSF. And I lived out in the countryside when I was small. I know how to look after myself.”

Herrmann smiled. “That’s fair.” He scratched his neck. “The mosquitoes are worse. Bug nets won’t help worth a damn. Make sure you close your windows at night, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I see.” The humidity combined with the smell off-road were already becoming intolerable. But she did not want to appear so snobbish or weak in front of someone she would be monitoring for the next three months. “I won’t go any easier on you just because you are unaccustomed to the environment.”

“See ,that’s the kind of attitude we need around here!” He clapped a hand on her back; Madeleine regarded him levelly until he relented. “Good to have you on the team.”

The other members on the Psychosocial Unit were as amicable with Madeleine as the situation permitted. None of them got on her nerves as much as Herrmann. His enthusiasm was never to the point of seeming false or obsequious, but he remained just enough of a go-getter to piss her off. After a week of monitoring them she came away with the impression that Herrmann was genuine. He had been consistently genial with the clientele and hospital staff alike, no matter the severity of their condition. She saw no reason to socialise with him outright. The most he ever noted about her mood was: “You’re pretty reticent for a psychologist consultant.”

“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”

Herrmann shrugged. “I can respect that. We all deal with the situation in our own ways.” He paused. “I can see why the Project Coordinator wanted you. You’re handling this situation a lot better than I would have.”

“Thank you.”

“The workload must be insane compared to what you’re normally used to. I know it took me time to adjust—" he stopped as Madeleine threw him a look of confusion “—what is it?”

“Back home, I am usually referred to as what one would call a workaholic. Or didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“No offence taken.”

The higher temperature was not so bad as the humidity that slapped her in the face whenever stepping outside—according to the forecasts, it was only going to get worse within the coming months. There was no manner of ventilation or air-conditioning in the hotel so often times she had to draw the curtains and keep her hair back. She resigned herself by reminding herself that it was better than sleeping in a tent.

There wasn’t much time to be hung-up on much else besides her assignment. The members of the Psychosocial Unit all looked good on paper, but they betrayed their inexperience through a shared level of idealism towards the mission that Madeleine deemed ill-fated. She did not blame them. Young, perhaps fresh out of school, looking to make a difference in the world without truly anticipating the gravity of the situation. Their time spent observing the crises of the rest of the world through the lens of journalism and outside empathy could not compare with the experience of actually sitting down and listening to the stuff their patients talked of with prosaic seriousness.

It often sounded outrageous when Madeleine played back the recordings, taking down notes in the quiet, stuffy hotel room. Mortality was an expected outcome, and the implication of negligence by their government a common topic of discussion among patients. Most conversations were conducted in French or else by way of an interpreter, though the antagonism in the voices of these patients needed no translation.

There was a growing disparity between the narrative put into circulation by the news and what was happening in the field. According to several members of the MSF and the staff at Donka, the media blew the problem out of proportion. The people whose condition had kicked off the “Red Death” story had been subjected to long-term exposure. Most of the patients that came through were not in that same condition, but it created an illusion of immediacy that incited concern in the public eye and a need for donations. Government officials wanted to cover up the severity of the situation as not to detract from any potential business opportunities; until the MSF got involved, they were only employing the most rudimentary of safety procedures.

This latter revelation had shaken up the Psychosocial Unit considerably; Dr Herrmann had lost his patience with the Medical Coordinator. To this end, he’d apologised profusely to Madeleine afterwards though she would hear none of it. Whatever he felt about the situation was not necessarily invalid, but out of consideration for their patients, he would not bring it up again.

Herrmann never held it against her. So Madeleine busied herself in her own work. Whatever quiet camaraderie forged between the other MSF members was not her business. When pressed for advice, she would talk calmly, carefully with the rest of the team about what would be optimal but never overreach. In the sweltering nights and throughout the early morning, Madeleine would pore over her notes, listening to the passing automobiles and indistinct conversation carried over by civilians.

⁂

June crawled by. Currently the MSF were in the process of dealing with a new influx of internally displaced persons (IDPs) from the surrounding prefectures and villages, all of whom had to be tested and separated from those not stricken with disease. Thanks to the cooperation with the local civilians and tireless efforts on part of the medical staff and Medical Unit, there had been a forty-five-percent decrease in fatalities compared to the start of the year.

The atmosphere within the hospital was not improving. The topic of insurgence was the new favourite with patients. Allegedly there had been several attacks on neighbouring villages; a consequence of the lack of tangible progress coupled with deep-seated mistrust of government officials. Now the Force Sécurité/Protection, or FSP, had been brought on in collaboration with an additional Protective Services Detail (PSD) by the name of Kerberos, to ensure the hospital and surrounding property remained untouched.

Their Project Coordinator called them all in for the sake of reviewing protocol in the event of an attack. Outright criticism of the government’s method in handling the situation was discouraged. Madeleine was savvy enough to keep herself abreast of any controversy. For the rest of the Psychosocial Unit, she presumed they were either too naïve or willing to look the other way.

The only exception to this was the Vaccines Medical Advisor, Francis Kessler; a stoic older man with thinning hair and glasses. He and Madeleine had cooperated a handful of times beforehand, at the discreet behest of the Medical Coordinator. Madeleine had found nothing wrong with his conduct. A diligent worker, he acknowledged her judgement fairly but did not overextend his gratitude. Outside of his work he was straight-laced and reserved and wouldn’t be seen socialising with any of the younger MSF who all talked about him as though he were some out-of-touch stick-in-the-mud. As the situation in the hospital became more dire he would stay behind on-site, late into the evening. Whenever they had a break, he would disappear on calls. Once he came back late by only a few minutes and apologised to Madeleine.

“I was supposed to be sent home last month, but with the situation being what it is, I decided to stay on until things are resolved.” He did not sit down, his attention turned towards the path back to the infected ward. “It’s madness. We’ve already waited until things are too severe to think of bringing in a proper security detail—who the hell does the Project Coordinator think we’re fooling?” Madeleine ignored him. “Dr Swann. The Medical Coordinator tells me you’ve been involved in volunteer work for a while.”

“Five years, as of March.”

“Perhaps they would be more willing to listen to someone with your expertise.”

“I’m flattered. But it’s fortunate that I was not selected for my personal opinion.”

Kessler chuckled. “You’ll go far.”

Madeleine had no interest in pursuing this topic any further. “Who were you speaking to?” He froze up, didn’t answer immediately. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But you leave often enough on calls, and it appears to be taking a toll on you.”

Comprehension dawned on his face, his shoulders relaxed. “Just my wife. This past month has been no easier on her. But I find that it can help somewhat, just talking to someone outside of this element.” Madeleine nodded stoically. “I’ve never seen you contact anyone outside of your unit.” Madeleine did not anticipate the conversation to take such a turn, nor did she wish to divulge much about herself. But she could not deflect as she could in the clinic back home, and Kessler seemed forthright enough to warrant a harmless response.

“I’m living with a friend. We graduated from college together.”

“And you keep in touch while you are abroad?”

“He tends to lead his own life while I am away.”

“That’s a great deal to ask of someone.” Madeleine inclined her head in his direction. This was not a man that emoted often; now the thin mouth was set, and the eyes behind the glasses disillusioned. “Few women your age would devote themselves to a thankless vocation as this. Not everyone is going to want to stick around until you decide you want to settle down.”

Madeleine’s smile did not touch her eyes. She hadn’t even mentioned the nature of her relationship to Arnaud. “We have an understanding, that’s all. Besides, I don’t bother him about his social life.”

Kessler shook his head. In a few minutes they were back to work as usual. By the end of the day, Madeleine resolved to let him dig his own social grave without further interference.

By the time July rolled around Madeleine found her mind snagging easily on technicalities. She became less tolerant of the Psychological Unit’s personal hang-ups with the lack of resources and lack of any obvious moral closure. Smell of rot and disinfectant permeated into her clothing and hair until she had begun to associate the smell itself with a total lack of progress.

She left the window to her hotel room cracked most nights, afraid to open it completely. Alone with her own mind and the recorder. The conversations now circled back readily to death and terrorism. An overwhelming fear of retaliation from looming insurrection.

Madeleine stopped the recording. She checked the time and cursed under her breath. Just past one in the morning. In six hours she would return to Donka Hospital and repeat the process. A month and a half from now she would be on a flight back to Paris. Her mind wouldn't settle on either direction.

Outside her window she heard the distant voice of Francis Kessler. He was conversing in German, from a few storeys down, but as Madeleine came over to the window she understood him clearly:

“…I’ve been saying it for weeks, and they dismiss me every time. These wounds are the result of prolonged exposure from chemicals. We’ve seen evidence of IDPs coming through, exhibiting the same symptoms as the PMCs we treated back in February. How we can expect to make any progress if the Project Coordinator refuses to bring this up? We’re putting God-knows how many lives at risk waiting for a vaccine that we don’t know if we need—and even so, it won’t be ready for another week. There’s not enough time to justify keeping silent….”

Madeleine closed the window carefully. She’d never been one to intrude on family matters.

⁂

When Madeleine exited her room the next morning, she found the Project Coordinator waiting for her in the hallway, along with the head of security from Kerberos and a couple Donka Hospital staff Madeleine knew by sight but not intimately.

The vaccines had arrived earlier than anticipated, around three or four in the morning. Several members of the Medical Unit had stayed on-site in order to determine if all had been accounted for and subsequently realised it was rigged. Thanks to the intervention of Kerberos the losses were minimal. Several doctors had suffered chemical exposure and were currently isolated from the rest of the IDPs to receive immediate medical attention. Others, such as Drs Kessler and Herrmann, had been less fortunate.

Now there was additional pressure from the hospital doctors and Logistics Team to begin moving the high-risk patients to a safer area. The fear that this story would circulate and any chance of obtaining vaccines would be discouraged could not be ruled out. So they would not be reporting this as a chemical attack, but as a failed interception of an attack by local terrorists, stopped by the FSPs.

“Dr Swann.” The head of security, Lucifer Safin, gave Madeleine pause. His accent would presume a Czech or Russian background but his complexion and eye colour invited room for ambiguity. The MSF on staff commonly referred to him by surname; perhaps Lucifer was simply an alias. What set him apart was his face. Gruesomely scarred from his right temple to the base of his left jaw, though the structure of his eyes and nose remained intact. In spite of the weather, Madeleine had never seen him without gloves. “I understand that you were one of the last to speak with Dr Kessler?”

His manner wasn’t explicitly taciturn, more akin to the disconcerting silence one might experience while looking into a body of still-water—met only with your reflection.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, “but that was nearly five days ago.”

“You were instructed to monitor him during that period by the Medical Coordinator?”

“That’s correct.”

Safin glanced at the Project Coordinator. “I’ll speak with her alone.”

“Of course.”

Safin nodded. They walked down the length of the hall back to her room. His gait was purposeful and direct. He had a rifle strapped to his side. Madeleine tried to avoid concentrating on it. Her attention went to the window. She'd forgotten to lock it.

“Dr Swann.” The early morning light put his disfigurement into a new, unsettling clarity. Too intricate to be leprosy or a typical burn wound, it was more as if his very face were made of porcelain and had suffered a nasty blow, then glued together again. “What was the extent of your relationship to Dr Kessler?”

“I did not work with him often. We talked once or twice but that was all. I have my own responsibilities with the Psychosocial Unit. From what I could tell, he never made an effort to befriend anyone.”

“But you were asked to monitor Dr Kessler.”

“I was requested to do so on behalf of the Medical Coordinator. There were concerns that Dr Kessler was somehow unqualified to continue his work. In observing him, I had no reason to suspect he was unfit for the position psychologically.” Safin said nothing. “The only issue I could see worth disqualifying him for, was that Kessler and the Project Coordinator had very differing views on protocol.”

“He spoke to you about his views?”

“He expressed to me once, in confidence, that he did not understand the Project Coordinator’s hesitance to bring in a security detail.” Safin’s attention on her became sharper. “He also told me he’d elected to continue volunteering here past his contract duration, just to ensure the operation was successful. That was my only conversation with him outside of a work-related context. You would be better off asking the other doctors about this.”

“We have video surveillance in place on the Grand Hotel de L’independence. At around one in the morning, Dr Kessler exited the building and contacted an unknown party by mobile phone. Then, a minute later, you were at your window.”

“Oh, yes. I have been forgetting to close it. With so many longer days, it can be difficult to remember these things.”

“Your room was the only one to show signs of activity at that hour.”

“I was reviewing my notes from that day’s session. I heard a voice from outside, though not clearly. It was distracting me from my work, so I got up and closed the window.”

“Do you commonly review your notes in the early hours of the morning with an unlocked window?”

“I just wanted some quiet. I leave the windows open because otherwise I seem to find myself trapped with the smell of rotting flesh as well as humidity.”

Safin’s expression became easier to read, but not in a positive sense. This was not a man you wanted to be on opposing sides with. Madeleine kept any apprehension away from her face and her voice tightly controlled.

“Look. Without information about Dr Kessler’s lifestyle outside of the MSF, I cannot give you an answer in good faith. I was assigned to survey him. He showed no signs of dereliction in his work, and to my knowledge kept his personal views separate from his work. Whatever he said to me during outside hours was assumed to be in confidence. Many people say things to one another in what they believe to be confidence that they would not admit to otherwise. If I had reason to suspect he was unfit to work, I would have contacted the Medical Advisor immediately.”

Safin held her gaze. She did not dare avert her face. Then he said: “Thank you for your cooperation. The Project Coordinator is waiting for you downstairs.”

The rest of the day she spent in a different wing of the hospital. The Psychosocial Unit was cut down from four members to three. Another inconsequential day of thankless work that never seemed quite good enough. That night Madeleine laid back on her bed and watched the shadows on the ceiling stretch over peeling paint until daybreak.

When she’d arrived at the airport she could stave off her doubts with shallow, private reassurances. As long as you are here, you are just Dr Swann the psychologist consultant. Your father is many miles away and he won’t contact you again. No one else will come looking for you in a place like this.

With a guy like Safin around she was undoubtedly safer than she would have been with the FSPs alone.

Safer, but no longer invisible.

⁂

July brought hotter weather and brittle peace—the vaccines had finally arrived. The wing of the hospital that had suffered the terrorist attack was still closed and they had lost several more staff members wounded in the initial attack. Madeleine and the remaining MSF were encouraged by the Project Coordinator to take earlier shifts. Progress remained steady but there was no clear resolution in sight. The stench of rot imprinted into Madeleine’s senses to the point where she no longer consciously registered her own nausea. Discontent among the staff continued to bubble under the surface on account of the closed wing and bad press.

It couldn't last forever.

A week away from August. Just another humid morning at six AM. Madeleine rose and prepared herself mentally for the day ahead. Stress kept her mind working late into the night, but her position with the Psychosocial Unit barred her from working overtime in the hospital. She was overwhelmed with keeping up the pace, not yet to the point of exhaustion.

There was an inordinate of activity on the road outside as she got dressed and left the room. She put it out of her mind.

Outside the hotel she met up with the Medical Coordinator and a few members of the Logistics Unit. They spent about ten minutes standing idle in the humid air, too weary to speak. The streets were usually empty this time of day.

An unremarkable black Jeep pulled up. The Medical Coordinator opened the door and was about to step into the car when it happened. The Medical Coordinator’s head burst over the interior of the vehicle and Madeleine. The body slumped like a doll to the dirt. Madeleine wanted to scream but could not. She turned and found herself facing down the barrel of a rifle.

Around a dozen men with guns, sans insignia, circled them. The man who had fired addressed her harshly in French: “Where are the rest of the MSF? Why are they not at the hospital?”

“I don’t understand.” Madeleine could see another group of men approaching from the rear. A massacre, onset.

“We’ve been waiting for months for a solution, and you have been injecting us with a useless vaccine.” He aimed right at her sternum. “Your doctors gave them all false hope for months. Now the MSF have abandoned you.”

“You have been protecting them!” the insurgent roared, levelling his weapon. “All this time! You knew why they were here, and you allowed them to experiment on our families like dogs!”

The man at his left turned and fired. The insurgent fell dead. “That’s enough.” One of the men from Kerberos in plainclothes. A dozen more in military gear materialised as if from nowhere. “There is no need for additional bloodshed,” said the plainclothes. “Release them now or you will be shot.”

All around her at once, gunfire. Madeleine didn't wait to see who had fired first. She prostrated herself, hands clasped over her neck, breath clogged in her throat.

All sound ceased. Her head continued to ring. Her eyes were open but she did not process the colour staining her skin, on her clothes, the smell of it. She hadn’t been shot. Her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Heavy footsteps approaching. She closed her eyes awaiting the kiss of metal at her temple.

“Dr Swann.” Madeleine shrunk away instinctively from the gloved hand upon her forearm. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Another soldier pulled her upright. Sight of blood on dry earth briefly mixed up with blood spattered across wooden floorboards. Madeleine went limp. Ushered into the backseat of an unmarked Jeep, she could not stop trembling. Shoulder-to-shoulder with another man she recognised as head of Logistics, Peter Miller. The door slammed shut, jolting her back into her own body. Sound of the ignition set her into trembling. Miller’s naked hand materialised on her shoulder. His voice overtaken by the roaring in her ears. Madeleine bowed her head into her hands like a child, whispering: “Ne me tuez pas. Je n’ai rien fait. Je ne sais rien.”

#no time to die #madeleine swann #lyutsifer safin #several ocs #crime drama #fanfic #fanfiction #multichapter #canon is gonna joss this into the sun probably #haha... unless?#slow build

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pengychan · 3 years

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 22

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

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

A/N: Well, both the events in this chapter and the update were a long time coming. I promise you won't have to wait nearly as much for the next update. I am not sure that is a good thing.

Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

Later on, if he’d been in a joking mood - and he most definitely wouldn’t be - Ernesto may have joked that while many were saved by the bell, he was quite literally saved by the bull. Namely, by an especially unimpressive bull who seemed to be unsure as to what to do around a cow, no matter how absolutely eager said cow was to answer nature’s call.

“González wants us to go all the way to his farm and bless a bull, am I understanding this correctly?”

Juan spoke with about as much contempt as he was able to fit into each word, which was a fair lot of contempt. As Ernesto coughed into his hand to hide a laugh, Sofía shrugged.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Padre. I am simply relaying the message González sent.”

The gringo scoffed, reaching up to rub his forehead. “Does he believe the church to be a joke, that he can call upon us to give a blessing to a bull who believes itself an ox?”

Ernesto chuckled. “Well, to be fair - don’t look at me like that, hear me out! A bull that cannot mount cows is a problem to anyone who makes a living out of their cattle. And the poor hombre spent a lot of his savings on that bull, so if it cannot do its job, that’s a loss he may not recover from anytime soon.”

His words seemed to make Juan marginally less offended, but the frown on his face did not entirely fade. “It still seems rather brazen, asking the church to get involved in such-- matters, Ern-- Father Ernest.”

“Desperate men will ask for any help they can get. Things have not been going all that well for anyone lately. And he does provide milk for the children in our care on Sundays,” Ernesto added, and mentally patted himself on the back when Juan’s scowl softened another fraction.

“... Fair enough. He has shown charity, at least. I cannot entirely fault him for being ignorant of what is and is not beneath the notice of God,” he declared. Behind him, Sofía pointed at her mouth and pretended to gag. Ernesto bit the inside of his cheek to remain serious, but any inclination to smile faded when Juan spoke again. “Well then, I suppose you may go and give this bull your blessing.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what? Me?” he protested. That was not a turn of events he had expected: the gringo knew any blessing he may give was entirely worthless, and-- ah, the pendejo. That was probably the point, giving González some peace of mind without anyone really giving God’s blessing to an impotent bull.

Juan met his gaze with a raised brow, and for a moment Ernesto could have sworn he’d seen the barest hint of an amused glint in his eye. It almost distracted him from the broad grin on Sofía’s face as she watched the scene. Some friend she was.

The gringo nodded, folding his hands. “You spoke of this man’s plight with such fervor, it seems fair I let you go help him - if anything for his peace of mind.”

Ernesto groaned. To say the González farm was out of the way was an understatement: it was quite a way beyond the first hill south of Santa Cecilia. Truth be told, they tended to consider it part of Santa Cecilia only because it was no closer to any other village, and the family attended Mass and the market each week without fail.

“But it’s almost an hour each way!”

“Two hours, most likely,” the gringo replied with a serene smile. Now the amused glint was… a lot more obvious. Oh, that bastard--! “Doctor Sanchéz borrowed the horse to send his assistant to buy some medical supplies in San Luz. You may have the donkey, though. Don’t push the poor beast, you know it’s elderly. If you get going now, you should make it back by sundown,” he added, making Ernesto rather wish he could grab the closest chair and slap him with it.

“But I-- I mean, surely it is not that urgent--” he tried to backpedal. He really was not looking forward to several hours riding a donkey under the merciless summer sun. Maybe on another day he could get a horse, or ride with the González family’s cart next time they--

“You should definitely be the one to go, Padre Ernesto. You have such a glowing track record with fertility blessings,” Sofía quipped, causing Ernesto to nearly choke on his spit and any words he’d been about to utter to die in his throat.

Entirely unaware of the meaning behind Sofía’s words - if rather taken aback to see one of the sisters taking his side over Ernesto’s in a discussion - Juan nodded. “See, Sister Sophie agrees,” he said, with a decisive nod that made it clear the matter was sealed.

Sofía grinned. Ernesto forced a smile. Oh, he thought, I am going to kill her.

“... Of course. I will be happy to,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Sofía took that as her cue to disappear out of the door with one last grin in his general direction. As the door closed, he allowed himself to groan, no longer having to keep up the pretense of keeping up the pretense in front of Sofía. “Bastardo,” he muttered.

Juan clicked his tongue, wagging a finger at him. “Language,” he chided. “If it is of any comfort, this also means you will be spared Latin for the day.”

“Does this mean you’ll make me study through the night once I’m back?” Ernesto grumbled, and the gringo gave a startlingly sincere laugh. Those had always been rare to come by, even more so after he learned the truth about him. Ernesto’s annoyance faded a little, and just a little.

“Hah! I thought about it, to be entirely sincere, but no.” He stood, giving his arm a light pat. “I will not put you through it tonight, either. We’ll both get to sleep.”

Somehow, he was both absolutely right and disastrously wrong at the same time.

***

Just as a very disgruntled Ernesto de la Cruz disappeared down the first hill south of the village on the back of an elderly donkey, Commander Santiago Hernández rode up the first hill north of the village at the head of a column of sweaty, angry men.

Fewer men than he’d have liked, truth be told. They had succeeded in pushing through the territories under the control of Zapatistas, but resistance had been fierce and their advance hadn’t been without sacrifices. The oppressive heat and the talk going around - they were losing the war, Huerta was going to fall any day now - did nothing to improve morale.

But they had made through the worst, the scum who’d planned to ambush them had been tricked into waiting for them somewhere else entirely, and they had almost reached Santa Cecilia - where they would take supplies and some fresh recruits to replace their fallen comrades. Those things were occasionally offered, far more likely taken, but it did not matter. The end result was the same, and he let his men deal with it.

What he usually kept himself occupied with was taking a very good look at every man he could find and asking everyone if a-- deserter traitor murderer -- man called Ernesto de la Cruz had sought refuge among them. He’d been lucky until then, evading detection, but his luck wouldn’t last forever, Santiago was certain of it. He didn’t allow himself to think he may be forever beyond his reach.

If only I had a photograph of that traitor, Santiago thought, not for the first time, but he chased away the thought. He did not have one; his name and a description was all that he had to work with, and it would have to do.

Santiago frowned, and spurred his horse the last few yards of the way to the top of the hill. He stopped his horse, allowing himself to breathe in the faint breeze caressing his face.

Below him, in the merciless heat of a summer afternoon, lay Santa Cecilia.

***

If only he hadn’t been asleep, Miguel would think later, they would have never caught him.

Granted, a tree branch is not a great place to take a nap. He wasn’t supposed to be asleep, they were playing hide and seek and he was really determined to win that round, so he’d climbed up a large tree at the base of a hill.

It was a really good hiding place, because the branches were wide enough for him to sit comfortably, back against the trunk, while the leaves beneath him hid him from sight. They hid him so well that he got bored of waiting to be found or for Felipe to give up, and he eventually dozed off.

At least until he was startled awake by shouts and rancorous laughter, and the steady clap of more horse hooves than he’d ever heard at once. Somehow, he had enough presence of mind to understand who it had to be - Federales! - but not nearly enough to remember he just so happened to be on top of a tree branch when he tried to stand up to run back and warn everyone.

“Aaaagh!” Miguel fell with a cry, hit a branch on his way down, and somehow managed to grab onto another before he had a very unpleasant meeting with the ground below. There were yells somewhere below him, and he knew he had been spotted.

“Oye!”

“What the-- what are you doing up there, muchacho?”

“Odd bird, that!”

“Oh, bet I can get him down with one shot…”

“What?”

“Hey now, it’s just a kid--”

“A lookout, more like, and there may be more.”

“Put that pistol down, Mendoza, or God be my witness you’ll hang from that branch!”

A voice rose over all the others, and the entire world seemed to go quiet. Miguel looked down, still reeling. A dozen men on horses were a short distance away from the tree, including a squat man quickly lowering a pistol, and more were coming down the hill. The men’s eyes were not on Miguel, however: they were looking at a tall, slender man with a closely trimmed mustache as he spurred his horse to walk beneath the branch Miguel was hanging from. Not a huge drop, but more than he’d like to risk.

“That doesn’t seem comfortable, niño,” he said, and it was only then that Miguel realized the thundering order not to shoot had come from him.

I was almost shot. They almost shot me, Miguel thought. His blood ran cold, and he suddenly understood why Ernesto had been so scared. He’d always known, of course, but seeing them up close - finding how quickly a soldier could joke about shooting a child off a branch like ripe fruit - suddenly made it so real.

It could get me killed, Miguel, Ernesto had said. You must never say it aloud again.

“I… I was…”

“Keeping an eye out for us to come, all the way out here?” the man, clearly someone in command, asked. His voice was cold and Miguel swallowed, still holding onto the branch for dear life. If he so much reached up from atop his horse, he could pull him down by the legs.

“N-no, señor,” he managed, his voice so small. “I... we were playing hide and seek. I hid.”

The man’s cold gaze remained fixed on him for a moment more, then it seemed to soften. “Well, if you hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have known you were even there,” he said, and smiled.

It was not an insincere smile, Miguel would think later, but there was something so fundamentally broken about it that he felt all the sweat on his skin had suddenly turned into frost. But at least, he thought, he’d stopped one of his men from shooting him dead. Was it because he balked at the idea of murdering a boy in cold blood? Was it because he thought there may be an ambush and a shot may alert anyone laying in wait of their presence? Miguel would never know, and at the moment he had no time to think about it. The man moved his horse closer, and held out his arm.

“Come then, your arms look ready to give out,” he said. “We’ll take you back to your village.”

No, no, no. Keep away from there. Keep away from Santa Cecilia.

Miguel swallowed again, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. “I…” he began, but he could think of nothing to say, and his arms finally did give out. The man caught him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so slender, and pulled him to sit astride his horse as well. Miguel held onto the mane with shaky hands, looking down. He found himself thinking of the day he and Ernesto had met, when he’d saved him from the stream and let him ride on his horse - except that then he’d been elated, and now he was just terrified.

Please God, make them go away. Make them go away without hurting anyone.

“... Gracias,” he murmured, mostly to try and not anger him, and the man let out a noise that seemed almost a chuckle as he spurred the horse into moving again. He shouted an order for his men to get moving again, entirely ignored Miguel’s wince, and spoke again.

“And what is your name, niño?”

“Miguel,” he mumbled. His throat felt like sandpaper, but the soldier kept talking like he hadn't noticed, or did not care, that the hands clenching the horse’s mane were shaking.

“Just Miguel?”

“Sí.”

“Very well, Just Miguel. I’m Commander Santiago Hernández.” His tone was light, but the grip on the reins was tight, the arms at either side of Miguel unyielding. “So, hide and seek? With friends?”

“S-Sí.”

“A good hiding place. I was never much good at hiding when I was your age. Alberto always found me. Now I am the one doing the searching for him.”

Miguel blinked, confusion overriding the fear for a moment. He craned his neck to look back. “Searching?” he repeated. The man’s gaze was like steel, but as he looked down it softened… only a moment. Then the coldness was back, and something in the pit of Miguel’s stomach twisted. He looked away again.

“For traitors. For one in particular, but any traitor will do.” A brief pause. “You seem like a smart boy,” he added, but Miguel didn’t feel smart at the moment. He only felt so stupid for just falling in the Federales’ hands as he had and so very, very scared.

“I-- try to be.”

“You know many people in the village?”

Nearly everyone, but he knew better than to say it. Maybe he had some smarts left, after all. “A few. Not all that many, the Sisters keep us in the church,” he added, hoping it would make a good excuse. To his relief, Commander Hernández hummed in understanding.

“Ah, nuns. I know what you mean. Does the name Ernesto de la Cruz ring any bells to you?”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh God, no.

It could get me killed, Miguel. You must never say it aloud again.

Miguel’s eyes stung with tears, but he was able to keep his voice from shaking too much as he spoke. “No, señor. I don’t think it does.”

“Are you certain? He is a deserter, and a dangerous man. A murderer. It is best for everyone that he is found and taken care of, don’t you agree? If he is here, your village is in danger.”

We are in danger now. If he finds him, he’ll kill him. If he knows we hid him, he’ll kill us all.

“Then I hope you find him,” Miguel managed, fighting back more tears while he watched the first houses of Santa Cecilia drawing closer as the column of men entered the main road in.

***

“... I still can’t believe we each thought the other was the one leaving behind the instructions.”

“Heh. And to think I knew your handwriting is better than… that.”

“Likewise. But I imagined you may have tried to disguise yours.” Imelda frowned a little, emptying the donation box into the basket - not a lot, few had much to give those days, but it would do and keep the poor fed - before returning it to its place. “It still irks me that we don’t know who it was.”

Héctor chuckled. “Maybe it was Cheech all along,” he said, knowing full well that despite being somehow able to read music sheets, the old gravedigger was damn near illiterate. Which was exactly the point Imelda made next.

“Chicharrón doesn’t know how to write anything but his name, Juanita’s, and a few choice words he had the bad taste of teaching my brothers,” she muttered, then she paused, and raised an eyebrow. “... What is it?”

“Uuuuh,” Héctor managed, mind entirely blank of anything he had been thinking. Their church was small and not much to write home about, but it did have one stained glass window thanks to a glassworker who had died almost twenty years prior and who had made it to thank God for saving the life of his son after a bad accident with an angry pig.

A claim doctor Sanchéz had hotly debated, that, considering that it had been him and not Jesus Christ to painstakingly sew torn flesh back together and throw iodine into any open wound, but his protests had been mostly ignored and their humble church now had a beautiful stained glass window, letting in soft light that made Imelda look like an angel straight out of-- well, no. Angels in the Bible were the things nightmares are made of, so not that.

But God, she really was the most lovely being in all creation.

A moment of silence, and then the most lovely being in all creation tilted her head on one side. “... Are you well? You look--”

“Beautiful,” Héctor blurted out, and Imelda let out a chuckle, a smile curling her lips.

“Well, I’ll admit you are a sight for sore eyes…”

Wait, what? Héctor shook his head, taken aback. “Wha-- no, not me. I mean, you. You-- beautiful,” he stammered.

The songwriter, señores y señoras.

As his face made a valiant attempt at reaching the same temperature as the sun, Imelda laughed. “I know what you meant,” she said, and the smile on her face widened just a little. She reached to take his hand, and Héctor let her pull him closer as though in a dream. “I think I can get used to hearing you say that. Once this is all over.”

Ah-- ah, of course. Yes. Once this was all over, and Hurta and his Federales were gone, he would ask her to marry him, and she would say yes, and they would leave the Church - only to return for their wedding to be officiated, and… and…

The thought of seeing Imelda in her best Sunday dress standing beneath that same window, as his bride, made Héctor’s heart skip a beat. Imelda let go of his hand, and he immediately reached to cup her face.

You may now kiss the bride.

“I’ll tell you every day,” he promised. Oh they were so close, and alone in the empty chapel. Or rather under the eyes of God, but Héctor felt no shame over it. God would understand, and if He didn’t-- well, it didn’t matter. “Starting now.”

The coy expression on Imelda’s face had faded a little, her lips parting. She placed her hand on his arm, but didn’t try to push him away. Héctor dared lean in, she tilted her face up, and her eyes fluttered close, and--

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME!”

“Gah!”

Héctor and Imelda came apart with a yelp, and turned towards the source of the voice. Said source was marching up towards them as though filled with the wrath of God, face somehow even paler than usual and eyes ablaze. “Brother Héctor! What is the meaning of this?”

Oh God. Face quickly turning a deep shade of purple, Héctor cleared his throat. By his side Imelda looked down in a way that may have looked demure, if not for the way the corners of her mouth curled upwards despite everything. It made Héctor struggle to keep himself from laughing.

“Padre Ju-- I mean, Father John!” he exclaimed with a wide smile, hands clasped together. “I can explain.”

“Oh?” The gringo came to a stop in front of him with a huff, arms crossed full of judgment for someone who had been doing… the kind of thing Ernesto claimed they had been doing. “Then please, do explain yourselves!”

“Well…”

“Oh, I’m curious to hear this one,” another voice rang out, insufferably smug and awfully familiar. Héctor looked past the gringo to see Gustavo leaning on one of the front pews, a grin on his face. Had it been him to tell Padre Juan that he and Imelda were alone in the chapel? Of course it had been him, he only needed a look at his face to know it. That cabrón--!

Héctor opened his mouth to tell Gustavo exactly what he thought of him, but before he could spew out a series of expletives that would have probably resulted in his excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church, the chapel’s door was thrown open and someone ran in screaming. Felipe.

“Federales!” he cried out, skidding to a halt on the polished floor. He was panting, hair sticking out in all directions and glasses askew, the sling holding up his broken arm having left an angry red mark on the side of his neck. “The Federales are here!”

Héctor’s blood ran cold and, for a moment, no one moved or spoke. All four adults stared at the panting boy, stunned incredulity on each of their faces.

Just when it was beginning to look like Huerta is done for. Just when we thought we may have escaped them entirely.

“Impossible!” Gustavo almost cried out, reaching to grab the boy by the shoulder. “They can’t be here! They were going to go through San Luz!”

How would you know?, Héctor thought, but he didn’t get to voice the question. The next moment Imelda was no longer by his side: she pushed past a still silent Father John to tear her brother from Gustavo’s grasp, and look at him in the eye.

“Where is Óscar?” she asked, fear plain in her voice. Her horror seemed to grow when Felipe swallowed and shook his head.

“I-- I don’t know. They’re at the plaza, rounding up people--”

“What do you mean, you don’t know! You’re always together!” Imelda crouched before him, even though he was already taller than her. She looked like she was begging him for a different answer. “Do you know where he may be? He needs to go home. He needs to hide.”

“No, I-- we were playing hide and seek, and Miguel--” Felipe let out a shaky breath and looked over at Héctor, eyes huge behind his glasses. “Héctor, their leader has Miguel.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not Miguel. Please.

The world around Héctor seemed to fade for a moment, and he seriously thought he may be about to faint; his ears were buzzing and his tongue felt too large. Children were not spared in that war, the Federles would take anyone who could hold a gun and make them fight.

I’ll fight. I’ll go. Just please, not Miguel.

“Very well then.” Father John’s voice rang out, impossibly calm, the full weight of his authority behind it. They all turned to look back at him as though puppets pulled by the same string. His hands were clasped tightly together, his mouth pulled in a thin line; a grim resolve was etched on his every feature. “It seems I need to speak to their leader, then. Philip, you go home. I will handle this.”

Gustavo groaned, rubbing his face. “With all due respect, Padre,” he said, everything in his tone making it clear he didn’t think the respect he was due was all that much, “it may be best you don’t try to confront them.”

“How come?”

“They have a bone to pick with Americans after Veracruz. More than everyone else, I mean.”

The resolve on the gringo’s face did not waver. “Surely, the cloth I wear will mean something to them.”

“Well… I suppose, at least for some, but they don’t love the Church all that much…”

“Then it will have to do.” Father John turned to Héctor and Imelda, who was still kneeling before her brother. “... Do ensure the children here are safe. Your brother may already be safe, if he saw them coming. Philip, you go home. I will do all I can to… smooth things over.”

You were never able to smooth things over with any Mexican ever, Héctor thought, but didn’t get to say as much aloud. The gringo turned and marched out of the church, immediately followed by Gustavo, who was probably thinking someone should make sure he didn’t mess it up too badly. Too bad he was probably the second worst pick for the job. Or the third, if they counted in Cheech. As they walked off, Imelda looked back at her brother.

“... Keep to the back roads, and go straight home. Maybe Óscar is already there. Go out back, through the sacristy - quick!”

Felipe disappeared at the back, and Imelda turned to look at Héctor. She was pale as ash, but her jaw was set; all the terror that had filled her moments earlier had been pushed back. “... I’ll tell Sofía to try and hide the supplies in the basement as well as she can. I’ll go gather all the boys and bring them back to the orphanage. You… you get Miguel away from them.”

“I…” A shaky breath, and Héctor nodded. “Do you think… what if they’re looking for Ernesto?”

“Then thank God he’s all the way out there to bless a bull. We’ll all tell the truth - none of us knows anyone called Ernesto de la Cruz.”

“If someone mentions a Padre Ernesto…”

“It’s a common enough name, and no one would think a deserter and our parish priest are the same person. His plan may have really been stupid enough to work.” She squeezed his arm. “Now think of nothing but Miguel. I’ll see you both later.” A pause. “I love you.”

Héctor swallowed, and leaned for a quick brush of the lips before he tore himself away from her and ran down the church and outside, down the steps, heart hammering in his throat and only one thought in mind: find Miguel, and keep him safe.

Whatever it takes.

***

“No one move, and no one will be harmed.”

Santiago’s voice rose over the plaza, met with almost complete silence from the people of Santa Cecilia - or at least those among them they had caught outside, at what looked like their weekly market - and seemingly went unheard by his men, who were busy taking as much as they could from the stands full of food and produce. Santiago did not try to stop them; they were fighting for Mexico, after all, and taking supplies was well within their rights.

If anyone was unhappy with that, they were smart enough not to voice it.

“I am looking for a deserter,” Santiago spoke again, circling the small crowd, still atop his horse. The boy, Miguel, sat frozen before him. Part of him, the man he had been before the war, felt sorry for the situation he was in, but the much colder man he had become, the one who had survived this far, knew it was a matter of practicality.

Having one of their kids on the horse with him made it… less likely for anyone to think of doing anything rash, such as pointing a gun in his general direction; it was a lesson he had learned after a bullet shot from a window had grazed at his right temple, leaving behind a rather unsightly scar.

Sorry, muchacho. I cannot afford to die. Not until Alberto is avenged.

“His name is Ernesto de la Cruz,” Santiago spoke the name loud and clear, so that all in the plaza could hear. “A large man, doesn’t go unnoticed. Black hair, brown eyes,” he added, painfully aware of how vague that was. “He had a beard, but he may have shaved it off. He is a murderer who did not hesitate to shoot a man in the back, and he’s dangerous. He needs to be put down as the rabid dog he is. If any of you is harboring him, you are not only committing treason - you are putting yourselves and your village at risk. So I ask you all--”

A sudden cry cut him off, followed by a laugh and a man’s furious voice. “Hey! Get your hands off-- agh!”

“Javier! No!”

Santiago turned to the source of the disturbance, as did the rest of the nervous crowd. A glance was enough to tell what had happened: one of his soldiers was still brandishing his rifle like a club, standing above a young man bleeding from the mouth while a girl with a torn blouse knelt over him, crying. He sighed. “... Mendoza. What did I tell you all about what you are and are not allowed to take from the towns we pass through?”

A grin. “Not my fault, Commander. This one was giving me the eyes. You know what I mean, no?”

Santiago gave him a frosty smile. “I understand. It has been a long march, hasn’t it? I believe you have dropped some cartridges.”

“Huh?” Mendoza looked down, searching for cartridges on the dusty ground. Santiago pulled out his pistol. “Cover your ears, muchacho. And close your eyes,” he told Miguel, and did not wait to see if he’d obeyed: he just lifted his pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

There were a few cries, mostly covered by the loud bang, but Mendoza made no noise: he was thrown to the ground and jerked just once before he lay still. As those closer to the body tried to shift away without making themselves targets, Santiago put the pistol back and turned his gaze around, to his other men, who had stilled and were staring back in silence.

“I trust you will need no more reminders to keep your hands to yourselves,” he said. Miguel was shaking on the saddle, hands on his ears. Santiago gave his head a reassuring pat before turning his horse to the side, so that the boy didn’t have the body in his line of sight. “Now - do any of you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Ernesto de la Cruz?”

As the soldiers around them resumed taking all the supplies they could take, he stared at the face of every villager. They all avoided his gaze, and they all shook their heads. Santiago scowled, anger beginning to stir in his chest. So he wasn’t there, either? Had he once again failed to find him? Where had that bastardo gone?

“We need men, and any men we need we will take!” he screamed, circling them once again, and gesturing for some of his men to leave the plaza and search the houses around them for anyone trying to hide. Young children held onto their mothers’ gown, elderly people huddled together, women held onto the arm of grown men, and somehow that just infuriated him more. They looked at him like he was a monster, but it was all wrong. He was hunting for a monster.

He was doing his duty, fighting for Mexico, risking his life - seen his friends die - and he’d even just protected one of theirs from his own man. Why did they look at him like that? What right did they have? How dare they? “If he is here, hand him over and none of yours will be taken! If you’re hiding him, you will all regret it!”

“Oh, quit yelling, will you!” a voice suddenly snapped. “There is no one by that name here. Now let the kid go.”

Santiago turned his horse, and found himself glaring down at a short, squat old man with a peg leg and a scowl on his face. “Cheech--” Miguel began, his voice shaking, but the man silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Grownups are talking,” he muttered, and looked back at Santiago. “Listen, we got no deserter here. No one moved in recently, and there are three Ernestos in all of Santa Cecilia. One is old enough to have been at Montezuma’s court, the other is a cobbler wider than he’s tall, and the third is a priest. There is no one called de la Cruz. If the man you’re looking for was here, we’d hand him over in a heartbeat to save our own. I know I would.”

That was true, and Santiago knew it; it was the reason behind his offer, after all. He had grown up in a village much like that one, and he knew how close-knit the community was. The choice between the safety of a newcomer and that of their own people was no choice at all. Still-- ah, it was infuriating. He kept slipping through the net, people looked at him like he was the monster, and it was all wrong. He had left home with Alberto trying to do the right thing. They had wanted to be heroes. Now Beto was dead, Nando was dead, and he… he...

If you think I’m the monster, then I intend to deserve it.

“... Very well,” Santiago sneered, and dropped a heavy hand on Miguel’s shoulder, causing him to wince. “We need thirty able men. Twenty-nine, as it seems I already have a volunteer. Who else will join us and do their duty as Mexicans?”

The old man’s wrinkly face twisted in fury. “Miguel didn’t volunteer for shit!”

“Oh, but he did. Here he is, no? Boys younger than him have fought for the glory of Mexico. I’ll teach him all he needs to know.”

If looks could kill, Santiago would have probably dropped dead off his horse. He found he did not care - even if in the back of his mind he knew the boy was too young to make a decent soldier, even though part of him balked at the thought of forcing him into the front line. Maybe he would make himself useful as a messenger, something not as dangerous as fighting. Santiago would mull on that later; right now, he had to make a point - what the army needed, the army would take.

Not that the old bastard seemed to care for the point he was trying to make. “He won’t even be able to lift a gun. I know how to shoot. I’ll take his place.”

There were murmurs in the crowd, but Santiago laughed. “You? You’re missing a leg and look like you’re one step away from the grave. I said I need able men--”

“Get off that horse, and I’ll show you just how able--!”

“Commander! A word, if you please!”

A voice called out before Santiago could seriously consider pulling out his pistol and blowing off the idiot’s bald head. It wasn’t just any voice: this one had a strong, distinctive accent. Slowly, he turned back to face the man who had spoken and, for a moment, he thought he must be dreaming.

Before him, clad in black priestly robes, stood a gringo.

***

“Well well, what have we got here?”

Sofía froze, the box full of cartridges still in her arms. She slowly turned to see a soldier of the Federal army at the door, rifle in hand, looking around the cellar.

How in the world had he found his way there? Were there more? Had Imelda managed to get the children to safety on time? Feeling as though her stomach had turned into a block of ice and mentally cursing - she had almost managed to move everything! - Sofía managed to smile. “Good afternoon. I am afraid you may be in the wrong place. This is the parish’s--”

“I am here to requisition supplies,” the man cut her off. “What is in there? Food?”

Well, that was it. She needed to come up with something quickly, because if the man so much caught a glance of what was really in those boxes, she and probably the entirety of the parish would end up before the firing squad before the sun had time to set.

I can’t believe I saved Ernesto’s life by having him sent off to heal a bull’s masculinity.

"These donations are for the house of God to help the poor, I am afraid. I cannot let you take them,” she said in her best apologetic tone. “I am certain you understand, our mission--”

"Move aside."

Ah, so that was how it had to be. "... No."

"It is for the glory of Mexico."

"What of the glory of Heaven?"

"You want to go meet that glory, sister?" The soldier snapped, and raised his rifle so that Sofía could stare right into its barrel. It looked impossibly large, impossibly black. If those men held no respect for the Church, there truly was no defense left. "What about now?"

"... It seems I misspoke."

"Of course you did."

"What I meant to say is, absolutely not. Have you no shame?"

The man glared daggers at her, and Sofía could only hold her breath, praying that he did have at least some reservations over shooting a nun after all. He hesitated, so maybe her gamble had paid off. Maybe she could still find a way--

“Ah, here you are! I thought I had seen one of the heroes of Mexico coming in here!”

Gustavo’s voice caused Sofía to blink and the soldier to turn, rifle up. On the doorway, Gustavo held up his hands with a smile. “No need to shoot, I am here to offer help,” he said, as though having a rifle pointed at his face was not bothering him at all. “As the sister correctly said, these are the supplies for the church - but we do have some food and medical supplies aside I am sure you could use.”

“Hhm. Do you now?”

“Of course. I am the sexton here, and I have been keeping some supplies aside just in case you happened to come through our humble village,” he added. The soldier slowly lowered his rifle, and Sofía blinked. She knew Gustavo was a cabrón, but a supporter of the Federal Army of all things? God, had he been working for them all along? How much did he know--

“Now, sister Sofía, we’ll leave you to finish your good work,” Gustavo added, taking a step towards her and taking her hands. “You were always such a tireless servant of the Church, may God bless you.”

Sofía opened her mouth to ask if he’d hit his head, but promptly shut it when she felt something being pushed against her palm - a folded piece of paper. She looked up and shared a long, serious look with Gustavo before he let go of her hands and led the soldier outside, all smiles and questions about his bravery in battle.

Only once she was alone again, heart hammering in her throat, did Sofía unfold the piece of paper to read the message hastily scribbled on it, in the same handwriting she had seen several times. It looked identical to the one in the instructions Imelda had been receiving for months, coordinating their help to the revolutionaries and their cause.

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death toll and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

***

Truth be told, Father John Johnson knew he had very few chances of succeeding.

Gustavo was right: Americans were particularly hated since their attack on Veracruz, and there was little love between Huerta loyalists and the Catholic Church. However, most if not all those men had been raised to go to Mass, and respect God’s servants; the presence of a priest still inspired at least some measure of deference, if the way the soldiers moved aside to let him pass was anything to go by.

And within moments it was obvious, just from the furious glare he received, that the cloth he wore was the only reason why their commander hadn’t shot him on sight.

“What is a gringo doing here?” the man scoffed, and moved the horse to tower over John. Gripping the horse’s mane, Miguel looked down at him with wide, terrified eyes; John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and looked back up at the commander.

“I serve at this village’s parish,” he said, his voice quiet. “Most call me Padre Juan. I am here to see if there is anything I may do to assist you, and protect my flock at the same time. Certainly an arrangement can be made.” Anything, he thought, anything to save my flock.

The commander scowled. “Protecting them is what we have been doing all along,” he snapped. Around them soldiers were dragging in more men and boys they must have torn out of their homes, forcing them in the plaza, separating all men from the women, the elderly, and children too young to hold a rifle. A few people cried out, but most were silent and still under the threat of firearms. “It is time they do their part for their country. This war may have been over already if not for your kind, sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong!”

John drew a long breath. “I do understand. The attack against Veracruz was unfortunate--”

“THE ATTACK AGAINST VERACRUZ WAS SLAUGHTER!” the man screamed suddenly, causing John to wince - but he did not turn, did not flee. He couldn’t, no more than the shepherd can run from the flock and leave it at the mercy of wolves. There was something in his voice that went beyond anger, raw and full of pain.

“... It was. I pray for all the lives lost that day, that God may take them in his glory,” he said, bowing his head. “Anything I may do would be a drop in the ocean, but if there is anything you require of me-- please, do tell me.”

The man paused, seemingly taken aback by the humble response. The scowl remained etched on his face, but the fury in his eyes burned a little less brightly. After a brief silence, during which one could hear a pin drop across the plaza, he spoke again.

“... You said you serve this parish. You must have heard confessions. Know everything about everyone.”

“I do, sir.”

“Do you have any knowledge of a man called Ernesto de la Cruz hiding nearby?”

Ernesto.

A cold, cold hand grasped John’s hand, and squeezed. He wanted to scream, to cry, to curse at the choice put before him - one he had hoped he would never have to make. He was relieved he had sent him away at a distant farm; he was horrified he may now have to be the one to give him away. Would that man be sated, if he got his hands on him? Would he leave the rest of Santa Cecilia alone? Could he trade the life of one for the lives of many?

There is no place in Mexico that is safe, Ernesto had said. I’m done for the moment you speak.

If the Federal army finds me, I’ll hang.

For all the turmoil in his soul, John managed to let nothing show. He looked up again, hands clasping together. “This man’s crimes must have been grievous--”

“He is a deserter, and he murdered a man far better than himself to escape.” The pain was in the commander’s voice again, a bleeding, open wound. “He must hang for it.”

They won’t give me the kindness of making it a clean fall with a broken neck, he’d said.

“... I see,” John said, and drew in a deep breath. He let his gaze wander around, across the faces of the men gathered by the soldiers - oh Lord, young Óscar was among them, eyes wide and scared behind his glasses - as he silently begged forgiveness from each of them. Anything to save his flock, he’d sworn to himself and to God, but this - this he could not do. Ernesto was of his flock too, the lost sheep. Whatever the consequences, they would be his own to live with.

Finally, he looked up again to meet Miguel’s gaze - and to his utter astonishment, Miguel met his gaze… and shook his head, so slightly.

Don’t tell him.

He knows.

Shock was almost great enough to make John lose his composure, but just almost. He sighed, and shook his head. "I am sorry, commander," he heard himself saying, his own voice distant. "I know no man by such name."

All at once, any humanity that has seemed to have returned to the man’s eyes was gone. “I see. Well, thank you for your useless intervention. Twenty-nine more men!” he screamed, turning to the soldiers. He turned his horse and John acted out on instinct, reaching up to grab the reins.

“Miguel is only a child!” John exclaimed, holding onto the reins despite the commander’s effort to tear it from his grasp. Only a child who reminded him of another he’d been forced to leave behind so long ago.

Michael was so young, I don’t know if he even remembers me. I don’t even know if they’re all still alive. It’s been so long.

But Miguel was there, alive, in need of help. “He’s only nine - and the boy over there with the glasses - they are still too young for this war. In God’s name--”

“God cares not for what happens here! Go preach to someone else, gringo! Let go!”

“For your own soul, if not for their lives! They’re children!”

“Let go, or I’ll shoot the boy in the head right now!”

“You monster! What sort of beast--”

“ENOUGH!”

There was the gleam of metal in the sun, a deafening bang, and screams. A terrible force knocked John back in the dust, tearing all breath out of his lungs. The sun filled his eyes for just a moment, impossibly bright, before cobwebs of darkness clouded his vision. He felt a terrible heat, something filling his mouth and soaking through his clothes. Thoughts ran through his mind like galloping horses, disjointed and increasingly muddled.

Is this it? Is it the end?

I will never see them again.

I am going to Hell, aren’t I?

Oh thank God, thank God he didn’t shoot him.

More cries, and a voice above all others, crying out Miguel’s name, full of the anguish only a father can feel. Hector's voice.

I am sorry, John tried to say, but all that left him was a gurgling sound. I couldn’t do it.

Yet even now, as he slipped out of consciousness, as he begged for God’s forgiveness and for those boys’ safety, he knew he could not regret his choice to give Ernesto a chance to save himself. If it cost him Hell, so be it. He would take the punishment.

Keep them safe, John begged without words, and dropped his head on the cobblestones, letting himself fall into nothingness as the screams around him faded into silence.

***

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A/N: Have some additional art by @whattimeisitintokyo to, uh, lighten up the mood, I guess?

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

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