#oh and the devil gave us So Fucking Much gold and cash
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met the devil in rdr2 last night and shortly thereafter we heard a bootboy landlord on mic publicly talking about how his ex wife left him while he was on deployment
#my posts#SUZIE AND I WERE JUST SITTING ON OUR HORSES EAVESDROPPING LIKE . JAWDROP.PNG#oh and the devil gave us So Fucking Much gold and cash#the devil was a kindly gentleman :)
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speaking in tongues ::: .01.
Author’s Note: hello again everyone! Welcome to part one and thank you for so much love on the prologue. I know it was quite short but it was needed to set up the story. I hope you guys enjoy part one. Make sure to check out the content warning from the masterlist as it has general content warning. Also, again, I will be tagging “part specific” content warnings. Always check both.
Content Warnings: please see the masterlist for general content warnings for this fic. Please be advised drug use, alcohol content, violence/abuse, creepy men being creepy, exotic dancing, lap dances, sexual innuendos/names/etc, fucking Adam is a content warning himself - let’s be real.
Dividers by @/cafekitsune
part one
“How the devil himself could be pulled out of me”
The echo of her name roared over the bass of the music that blared in the club as she stepped onto the stage and took hold of the pole. A smirk curled over her lips before quickly spinning around the pole in time with the music. She could hear her fellow dancers cheering her as well from backstage as she landed another pole trick as the music ended.
Money pelted the stage as Imps scampered to collect the cash into a bin. She gave the onlookers a quick bow before heading backstage where she was greeted with a hug by one of her close friends, Angeldust.
“That was fucking phenomenal baby!” he exclaimed, grinning.
Laughing, she ruffled his snowy hair. “Shut the fuck up. Everything I know is because of you.”
“Don’t be so modest, Cashmere,” he replied, scoffing.
One of the Imps tapped Cashmere on the thigh causing her to glance down. The Imp held up a wad of cash, her earnings from the dance.
Cashmere took the cash before thumbing through the cash, counting in her head but immediately frowned. “This can’t be right.”
The Imp looked down to the floor. “Valentino took his cut.”
“Mother fucker,” she snapped.
Angeldust frowned. “How much did he take this time?”
The Imp sighed. “Over half… nearly seventy percent.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Cashmere cursed again before heading to her dressing room. She tossed the cash on her vanity before falling into the seat. She rubbed her eyes before leaning back on her chair letting out a frustrated sigh.
“Oh, Chiquita~”
Her lips dipped into a frown as she heard her dressing room door opening and Valentino stepped inside. “I see you got your earnings,” he teased as his firm towered over her. “You know, I wouldn’t have to take such a high cut if you would just make a itty bitty deal with me—”
“No.”
His crimson eyes narrowed at her. “Fine.”
“Now if you excuse me,” Cashmere said, turning away from him. “I’m going to change and head home—”
“Oh not this time,” he said, shifting his weight to one leg as his gold tooth poked out from his smirk. “I have a high-paying client…”
“I don’t–”
He snatched her up by her hair before hissing. “I dare you to interrupt me again.”
Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes as she hissed in pain. “I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Sure, Cashmere owned her soul…
But that didn’t stop Valentino from trying to break her down so she’d inevitably give it up to him… he had tried every tactic. Manipulation. Financial distress. And most recently, physical harm.
He dropped her to the floor. “Now get cleaned up, princesa,” he commented. “You have ten minutes before I drag you to that room.”
“Of course Val…” she managed to say. “I’ll be out soon.”
The door slammed before she rolled onto her side and curled up into the fetal position. Cashmere gently wiped away the tears burning at her eyes before hugging herself… the only amount of comfort she would ever find in Hell.
She managed to stand up and clean up the makeup stains on her cheeks before readjusting her hair. High-paying client, huh? What kind of deprived lunatic did Val happen to find that offered enough money to convince him to offer her up as a private dance… or worse.
She recalled conversations with Angeldust that the majority of private dances ended in some sort of solicitation for sex…
As if she hadn’t done that enough while she was alive.
“Just keep telling yourself you’re anywhere but here,” she told herself as she changed her outfit and shoes. Perhaps, this punishment in hell was well deserved after all the deprived things she did while living…
Shaking her head, Cashmere quickly planted a smile on her face in the mirror as she checked herself out one last time. “Performance. Nothing more. It’s not real.”
“Cashmere!”
Opening the door, she smiled at Valentino who was waiting outside her dressing room door. “Sorry. Shoes were being difficult.”
He bought the lie as he smirked. “You look delicious, princesa.”
If she knew he wouldn’t strike her, she would have visibly gagged at the compliment.
She followed him toward the private dancing rooms. The hallway was barely lit as she passed Angeldust, who frowned at her appearance in that hallway. She gave him a shallow shake of her head, indicating she would explain later.
Valentino pulled back the curtain to one of the rooms as she stepped inside. “Show him a good time.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a threat.
She couldn’t see his face, not that it mattered. No one in Hell was completely human anymore… she noted what she believed to be horns on his head. Oh well, it’s not like it mattered to her.
The music cut on, catching her off guard with the type of rock music that was playing. Not something she was accustomed to dancing to… but no matter.
“Well?”
She held back a scowl before moving to straddle his lap. The dance started as she began moving her hips.
“Are all you bitches like this here?”
…what the fuck did he just say?
“I’m sorry?”
“How is this supposed to be hot?” he asked, scoffing. “You’re not even looking at me.”
Cursing under her breath, she looked back at him. Her eyes had adjusted enough to notice that it seemed his face was similar to a screen. Perhaps he was another TV demon like Vox.
A clawed hand came up and grasped her chin, pinching it in its grasp. A yellow smirk came up on the screen. “That’s right. Lemme see that pretty face.”
She jerked away from him, unable to hide the scowl on her face now. “Don’t touch me.”
He tutted. “I paid for you. I can touch you if I want.”
Fuck. He was right.
She decided to focus on the music again and try to ignore his random commentary throughout her dance. It was insulting really… to be criticized by someone that had no idea how talented she truly was.
This had to be Valentino’s way of sticking it to her in another way.
“That’s it?”
Cashmere rose and stepped back. “I’ll have you know I’m one of the top dancers in this club!”
“Could’ve fooled me. I fucked plenty of bitches livelier than you.”
Was this happening?
“You’re not even that hot you know?”
“Funny,” she hissed. “Coming from someone with a hard-on right now.”
Silence filled the room.
“The fuck did you just say?”
Cashmere crossed her arms before shifting her weight from one leg to another. “I’m not repeating myself.”
He jumped to his feet, his body towering over her before backing her against the back wall. “You’re a little cuck aren’t you?”
“Fuck you,” she snapped as she shoved him away from her. “Give me my money and get out.”
Silence.
He stepped closer to her. Her hands came back up and tried to force him backward but this time he didn’t budge.
“You’re a filthy, little sinner.”
“Speak for yourself.”
He scowled. “I’m going to enjoy-”
Cashmere put her hands back up and aimed to push his face away from her. Her hand slipped, almost screaming when she noticed it wasn’t his face, but a mask, which had turned completely ninety degrees.
“Mother fucker!” he snapped, adjusting the mask.
“A mask?!”
“Good observation genius.”
Her brow furrowed. She reached around and snatched the mask off of his head. Her eyes widened before he stumbled back, cursing at her.
Golden eyes.
“You’re a fucking angel?!”
He snatched his mask back. “I’m THEE angel babe.”
“Why the fuck are you even here?!”
He ran a hand through his dark locks before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Heaven business. Studying you skanks down here,” he explained. “They want to know what the fuck is going on down here so they sent the most holy of souls-”
Cashmere inwardly groaned. She recalled several newscasts in the past talking about Heaven’s first soul… a self-proclaimed “bad boy” of sorts. Everyone knew his name… everyone knew his story.
“Adam? The first man Adam?”
“Took you long enough babe.”
“Don’t call me that!”
Adam shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust his mask, cursing under his breath as he did so. “Babes… relax.”
“Also why the fuck are you in HELL. In a STRIP CLUB.”
“I told you,” he countered. “I’m studying.”
“Studying what? Hard ons? Don’t get those in Heaven?”
He scoffed. “Please. I’m very well-versed in that doll face. All dick came from me after all.”
“…you need to leave. Now.”
Groaning, he sat back down on the velvet couch. He moved his hand to mimic her speaking. He leaned his head back against the top of the couch as his legs spread apart.
“You’re a pill.”
“Fuck you.”
He snorted. “As if I would waste my time fucking a filthy sinner.”
Her feline-like ears flattened against her head. “Like I said,” Cashmere hissed as her tail flicked wildly behind her. “I’m not the one with an erection.”
He tilted his head. “Can’t stop staring? Can’t say I blame you. The dick is fire, doll face.”
“You know what,” she hissed. “Forget the money. Give it to Val.” She headed toward the door.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” he quickly said. “Just wait for a second, princess.”
She closed her eyes in frustration again. But, she paused her movements.
“I think you’ll be the perfect little project to study while I’m down here,” he said before standing up. “You’re going to be so much fun to torment. So be at the embassy tomorrow. I’ll discuss with your “boss” about the arrangements we have set up. No questions from him.”
“He’s-”
“If I pay him enough and tell him I’m fucking you,” Adam continued. “It’ll be enough.”
A frustrated sigh fell from her lips. “Deal,” she replied. “What are you even studying?”
“That’s for me to know,” Adam retorted. “And you to find out.”
“…you don’t know, do you?”
“Fuck you.”
Cashmere checked her surroundings as she reached Heaven’s embassy before sneaking inside. She couldn’t let her reputation be spiked by making an appearance here. As she looked at the tall ceilings, she had to admit that Heaven sure knew how to make beautiful structures.
“…why do we even need an embassy?” She questioned under her breath.
“To keep an eye on you filthy monsters.”
Squeaking, she jumped forward in surprise at the voice behind her. A swear fell from her lips as she turned to see Adam standing behind her looking confused by her reaction.
“Don’t fucking sneak up on me!”
Rolling his eyes, Adam moved his way around her before falling back into his chair. He was wearing his mask again.
“Is there a reason you wear a mask?”
He was silent for a moment. “No.”
He sounded almost unsure of his answer.
Cashmere took the seat in front of his desk before shrugging. “I don’t know any angels… do they all wear them?”
Adam was quiet again, pondering the answer to that question. “Yes and no,” hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her. But her stare only told him he would have to elaborate.
He began to explain the different types of beings that lived in Heaven. There was God. The Ruler, the Creator. The Seraphim. The Cherubs. And finally, The Angels.
“So some Angels are human souls, like mine?”
Adam nodded. “They take many forms. Animals, humans… whatever you want. It’s Heaven. The Seraphim can change their forms… often their true forms scare the human souls so they take on more appealing forms.”
She sat back and tapped her chin. “Interesting.” She wondered what Heaven looked like if it was similar to what Hell was like. Was it cleaner? Was it as crowded? Were the souls up there happy? Who was she kidding, of course, the souls in Heaven were happier. None of them were being punished for their actions while they were living.
“Is it nice being happy all the time?”
Confusion filled his golden eyes before quickly recovering and smirking at her. “Of course babe… Every day is a wonderful day in Heaven.”
Cashmere didn’t catch the brief lapse of his mask before offering him a nod. She knew that she would never belong in Heaven. Not with her past and her choices while she was alive. “So what is this supposed to do?” she asked.
Adam let out a frustrated sigh before stretching his arms over his head. “I fucking told you<” he countered. “To study sinners.”
“Study what?” she replied, flatly.
He glanced down at his desk at the folder that Sera had given him before sending it to the embassy. Inside, he found an outline of questions and discussions that she and Emily wished for him to touch base on with a sinner. How fucking boring were these questions?
“The fuck did you do to screw up so badly, you ended up here?”
The question was meant to offend her, Cashmere knew that much, but she managed to smile at him. “I’m a phenomenal liar,” she replied, cooly. “How will you know that I’m telling the truth?”
“You think I give a shit if you’re telling me the truth?” he countered, “I’m merely here to make the Seraphim happy.”
Sighing, Cashmere raked a clawed hand through her hair. “Where do you want me to start?”
Adam merely shrugged in response.
Shaking her head, Cashmere glanced off to the side as some of the memories of her living life crossed her mind. Running away from home at such an early age wasn’t the best decision she had ever made, but it helped Cashmere keep her sanity while she was still living. She fell into prostitution by eighteen. Clients would often stiff her after services, so she learned how to fight back from fellow call girls. She often lured men in with promises of sex for quick cash before hitting them over the head with some sort of blunt object and robbing them blind.
“So not only a skank,” Adam interrupted. “But a thief too.”
Cashmere should have seen this insult coming from miles away but still caused her to frown. “Sometimes you have to do shit to eat.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t imagine you’ve ever gone hungry a day in your life.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
Cashmere shrugged before smirking in response. “Nothing.”
“Calling me fat?!”
“If the shoe fits.”
“You know what,” Adam sneered. “Fuck you!”
Cashmere leaned back in the chair, stretching out her back. “My dad left when I was young. Never looked back,” she commented. “My mom couldn’t afford all of us kids. So being the oldest, I took myself out of the equation, to make it easier for her. Last I knew, they were doing amazing without me. That’s all I could ask for.”
His eyes narrowed, confused by her statement.
“I loved my family,” she said. “I couldn’t let them starve.”
Sadness flooded her mind. She had done the right thing, right?
Adam’s eyes fell to the papers on his desk. “They were starving?”
“I imagine the world is a very different place than when you were living.”
He rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “I’m not going to agree with you if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
Cashmere rolled her eyes. “So you never told me why you were at a strip club wanting a lap dance.”
“I don’t think I should have to explain myself to whore trash like yourself.”
“Just trying to make conversation I guess,” she sighed. “What now?”
Adam didn’t respond as he was lost in writing a few notes down in the paperwork scattered on his desk. She tried to strain her eyes to read what he was writing before he slammed his hand over the paper and pulled it closer to himself. Her eyes scanned upward, catching his golden hues glaring back at her.
“Haven’t you heard of the saying, curiosity killed the cat, kitten?”
“I’m already dead,” she countered. “It can’t get any worse.”
Touche.
“Just don’t fucking look at my notes okay? Top secret shit for Heaven.”
Cashmere offered a nod, a silent agreement that she would no longer try to spy on his notes. “Do you think we can get this done in one day?”
“I wish I could, sugartits,” he said. “But they said I have to spend three months—”
“Three months?!”
“Oh yeah,” he teased. “Get used to me doll.”
“My name is Cashmere.”
“I know.”
“So call me by my name.”
“I never call bitches by their names.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “So the entire three months you’re here… you’re going to insist on calling me sugartits?”
“Well they are nice,” he teased. “Even for a sinner.”
Adam’s laughter echoed throughout the room as Cashmere decided it was best to not respond to his comment. She couldn’t fathom how she was stuck in a room with a man - let alone an angel - who laughed at his jokes.
“Are we done here?” she finally said.
“Hot date?”
“Hotter friends,” she countered. “We’re going out. Blow off steam.” Her phone buzzed before pulling out the cell phone and saw a message from Angeldust mentioning he had scored some drugs they could split at the bar. “I’m out of here,” she said before turning to leave.
Offended, Adam scoffed. “Fine. Be here tomorrow.”
She didn’t respond as the door shut behind her.
“Fuck yes, bitch!”
Cashmere laughed as she reached the club with Angeldust and Cherrybomb waiting for her at the entrance. Angeldust offered the bouncer a playful wave before gaining access to the club with the other two. Cherrybomb instantly pounced on Cashmere with a hug before showering her two friends with compliments and a complaint weaved in here and there.
“You two are always fucking working,” she groaned.
“Some of us are career bitches,” Angeldust replied before ordering the trio a round of shots.
Scoffing, Cherrybomb waved him off before glancing at Cashmere. “You too miss famous dancer?”
Cashmere rolled her eyes. “He’s right. Some of us have careers,” she teased before downing her shot. The alcohol burned down her throat and felt so good at the same time. The alcohol in Hell was different - it seemed to hit harder.
“Here,” Angeldust said, pulling out a baggy of white powder.
“Got a dollar?”
“You know it, baby,” he teased before rolling the single into a tube as Cashmere poured the powder out onto the table and used a card to line it up into three lines before putting the remaining powder back into the baggy. “You first, Cherrybomb!” she said before waving down a bartender to get them another round of shots.
Their friend grinned before taking the makeshift tube snorting the line of cocaine and chasing with another shot of alcohol. Angeldust followed next. And it was finally Cashmere’s turn.
The rush of the cocaine hit her head first before the burn of the alcohol slipped down her throat. “Fuck,” she said. “Good shit Angeldust!”
He flashed her a playful grin. “Only the best for my favorite bitches.”
“Let’s go fucking dance!” Cherrybomb exclaimed.
Cashmere jumped to her feet. “Okay!”
Cherrybomb grabbed her and Angeldust, tugging them out to the dance floor. The music's bass filled the air as Cashmere closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the music and her high. Her hips swayed in time with the beat as she felt eyes fall on her and her friends. Of course, they couldn’t enjoy a moment of peace dancing without some disgusting ghoul trying to catch a glimpse.
“Shit,” Cherrybomb hissed, glancing over Cashmere’s shoulder. “Don’t look now but a couple of fuck faces are trying to interrupt us.”
“I’m not drunk enough for this!” Angeldust whined.
Cashmere whipped around, catching two demon men approaching them, their frames towering over her. Her eyes narrowed before baring her teeth at them. “Back. The. Fuck. Up.”
One of the demons backed down immediately, but the other… Rage filled his eyes before snatching her wrist and jerking her toward him. “I know you,” he growled. “You’re that little skank dancer at Val’s club, aren’t you? Fucking tease. Won’t fuck anyone in the club.”
She tugged her hand back, rubbing her wrist. “Fuck off. We’re having fun. No one invited an ugly fuck like yourself,” she snapped. “Besides, you couldn’t afford even a second of one of my dances.”
His fist rose, aiming to strike her.
“Oh big scary man,” she taunted. “Gonna hit a girl like a little bitch huh?”
The strike never came, instead, Cashmere watched as he was launched into a table by another bystander striking him.
“What the fuck!”
Whipping around to see who had hit the stranger, Cashmere’s eyes widened upon catching a familiar LED screen with a pair of horns, sporting a glare. “The FUCK are you doing here?!”
Angeldust quirked an eyebrow. “Impressive,” he commented, “you know him Cash?”
She didn’t have time to react, let alone explain who this was to Angeldust. She grabbed Adam by the arm, quickly tugging him into one of the vacant “sex rooms” and locking the door.
“I can’t even begin to explain what a hazard it is for you… an ANGEL, to be waltzing around a fucking club - IN HELL.”
Adam shrugged, looking away from her. “Piece of shit can’t touch my project.”
“I was handling myself fine.”
“Not from where I was standing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough,” he replied, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Saw those slutty dance moves.”
Rolling her eyes, Cashmere raked her fingers through her hair, moving some stray bits from her face. A sigh fell from her lips as she took a seat on the velvet couch. “Just go back to the embassy,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine and I’m with my friends-”
“Oh yeah Angeldust the porn star, super safe.”
“...you know Angeldust?”
Adam seemed to avoid answering the question before grumbling. “Let’s just go.”
“No,” Cashmere said, flatly. “You go, I’m staying.”
“You’re fucking trashed and you’re high. Let’s go before some fucking slimy sinner tries-”
She decided not to respond before standing up and heading to the door. She pulled back on the handle before his hand shot out and slammed it shut. She could feel his much larger form, towering over her from behind. His chest pressed against her back, causing her to swallow the growing lump in her throat.
“Adam?”
“Are you going to fucking listen now?”
Slowly, she turned around, catching the LED screen on his mask glaring at her.
“Answer me.”
Cashmere pressed her back against the wooden door frame as far as it could go. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he made her feel so small versus any other garbage demon on the street. “I’m with friends Adam. You don’t tell me what to do.” She tried to keep her voice stern.
He leaned down to her level before pulling his mask off. His golden eyes stared at her - almost with disgust. Perhaps this was why… He despised her.
“You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”
“The fuck are you going to do? Make me?”
His eyes narrowed before moving closer to her face. “Don’t tempt me.”
Her hand came up to paw at the door for the handle again.
He snatched her wrists, holding her hands over her head. “We’re leaving now.”
“W-what? Let go!”
Adam slipped on his mask again before tossing her over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Fuck you!”
Adam shrugged. “That can be arranged, sugartits.”
“I hate you!”
“Feelings mutual, dollface.”
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ｂｕｎｎｙ
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ｂｕｃｋｙ ｂａｒｎｅｓ ｘ ｓｔｒｉｐｐｅｒ!ｒｅａｄｅｒ
ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ: bucky’s got a little secret that he goes to every night; where his little bunny is waiting for him just like always.
ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: smut 18+ (pet names, bucky gives you a collar ;), face sitting, oral m recieving, light bondage, semi public sex, unprotected sex) slight angst?
ａ/ｎ: i really like this lmao might do a part 2? idk let me know
ｗｃ: 2.3k
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“Where are you headed Buck?”
“Out,” he said without much thought.
“Wait!” Steve shouted, running to catch up to him.
“Seriously, Buck. What’s going on? You’ve been out almost every night. You’ve taken out tons of money for cash,” Buck looked at Steve confused, “Yeah, Tony asked me why you were wasting your paycheck and where it was going. I told him I have no idea.”
“Can you not right now? We’ll talk…” Bucky trailed off patting his pockets; looking for something.
“We’ll talk later, I promise,” he said before running upstairs to grab a velvet box.
Bucky went to the garage, luckily without running into anyone, and hopped on his bike and headed to the club downtown. When Bucky got there his senses were quickly overwhelmed with the smell of weed, smoke, sweat, alcohol. But he got over once his eyes landed on you.
You sat in the pink and purple lights on another man's lap; slipping bills in your bra and panties, laughing and sulking in your attention. Bucky knew the demands your job had but it didn’t stop him from wanting to turn any man who touched you or even looked at you like he did inside out.
You looked up and noticed Bucky’s piercing eyes looking at you. You wanted to cave in yourself. It wasn’t often that Bucky would find actually doing your job but when he did you felt dirty and gross; like you were cheating on him even though he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.
Yet.
“That’s your time,” you said sexily to the man.
“Oh come on, baby. Lemme get another hour. Maybe we can migrate to one of the private rooms?” he whispered disgustingly.
“I’m sorry. I have another client,” you looked down at his hand where a gold wedding band sat on his fourth finger.
“Hey, you’re not going anywhere. It’s your job to please me,” he grabbed your arm roughly, shocking. This wasn’t rare but it also didn’t happen a lot; it still scared you when stuff like this happened.
“I already told you I have another client,” you yanked your hand away, quickly walking away shaking.
“Fuckin’ whore,” he said distantly; you rolled your eyes. Sometimes this job makes you feel disgusting.
“Are you ok?” Bucky said brushing your arm softly when you went up to him.
“Yeah, I’m ok. The room in the back corner is open for us, I’ll meet you there. I’m just gonna grab a quick drink. Do you want anything?”
“No. Wait- Actually could I just have some water?”
“Mission?”
“Yeah,” he responded; you smiled softly before going to the bar.
“You ok? I saw what happened,” the bartender asked you while grabbing two waters for you and Bucky.
“Yeah, just a guy with too much testosterone,” you chuckled.
“Need a shot?” she asked, holding a bottle of tequila.
“No, uh, Buck’s here,” you hesitated. She knew about your “nightly sessions” you’ve had for the past couple months. Yes, months. Bucky came almost every night. It started just for sex at first. You hadn’t intended to sleep with him his first night but it happened. Since then Bucky became addicted. He doesn’t even pay, he just shows up and fucks your brains out. And you don’t mind not one bit.
“This isn’t healthy for either of you.”
“I know but it’s all I have right now.”
You walked around the swarm of dancers and clients coming up to the private room designated for private dances. You slowly opened the door and closed it behind seeing Bucky snap his head to you when you came in. His usual worrisome and hard face soften with his beautiful smile.
You smiled back handing him his water. He took it and chugged it all in seconds. Some water spilled down his chin and his throat and you were instantly turned on, holy hell that was hot.
“Thank you, bunny,” he smirked. The name you were given when you joined the club as a dancer was Bunny; it was also Bucky’s favorite name to call you.
“Speaking of, I have something for you,” he took out the velvet box and grabbed your hand to lead you to the small pink bed. He sat you on his lap, hands rubbing your legs softly while you carefully opened the box. Inside was a baby pink collar with diamonds speckled across the leather. There was a gold loop that dangled in the front, a tiny pink bow above it. On it spelled with diamonds as well was B’s Bunny.
“I didn’t know if it would make you uncomfortable to have my whole name on it,” he whispered in your ear.
“I love it,” you giggled.
He nibbled on your ear while you pulled out the collar handing it to him so he could put it on. When he did he pulled on the loop to pull you in for a kiss. A messy dirty sloppy kiss that made you weak in the knees. Your arms wrapped around him pulling even closer.
“My bunny,” he growled when you pulled away.
You slowly got off his lap and to the floor. Your hands moved across his front before stopping at his waist. You unbuckled his pants pulling his belt off completely.
“What are you doing, princess?”
“I want to say thank you. For my pretty collar,” you said sensually.
You pulled his pants and underwear down his thighs, grabbing his cock pumping excruciatingly slow. His breath quickened when you licked the underside of it. Not long after, you wrapped your lips around his tip. You sank down a bit until his tip hit the back of your throat. Bucky’s hands brushed your hair delicately.
You move swiftly up and down his shaft hollowing cheeks to suck hard on his cock. You gagged only a little when Bucky started to move his hips upward into your face. He moaned and whined underneath you making you hum in content. The hum you made vibrated against Bucky’s dick settled in the back of your throat.
His hips arched off the bed and you deepthroated his cock feeling hot spurts of cum shoot down your throat.
“God, your fucking amazing, bunny,” Bucky panted coming down from his high.
Bucky grabbed you hand and brought you to your feet, then sat you on his lap to kiss you.
“Sit on my face, baby girl,” he whispered.
You crawled up his body and straddled his stomach first. He kissed your stomach and chest; he rubbed his hands all over you. You moaned softly and sighed in pleasure. The music was still playing in the club and you started moving your hips side to side, rolling your head back.
“You’re so fucking sexy, my bunny.”
You only smiled at him before proceeding to crawl up to straddle his face. He laid back to make room for you leaving tender kisses on your inner thighs. You looked down to see Bucky under you; the sight was gorgeous. He lifted his hands to move your panties to the side then licked a slow long line up your pussy.
“You're so wet, bunny,” he mocked.
He continued skillfully moving his tongue up and down your pussy and you moaned and whined above him. You down again to find Bucky’s cheeks tinted red, his forehead a little sweaty, and his eyes closed; basking in your sex you gave him. His hands wrapped around your thighs from underneath and he pulled you further down on him, sucking on your clit.
He moaned as well making vibrations, your body shuddered in pleasure. The pressure building in your stomach was about to burst so you reached down and curled your fingers in Buck’s hair tugging gently. Your back slightly arched and you came, practically gushing all over his face.
“That was fucking amazing, we need to do that again. I fucking loved it,” Bucky said when he sat up.
You panted before laying back on the bed chuckling at what Bucky said. He stood up and you thought he was done for the day, ready to walk out of here like he didn’t just blow your fucking mind by having you sit on his face. But he walked to where you had previously discarded his belt and grabbed it after he stripped off his shirt.
He turned to you slowly and stalked up to you, smirking like the devil. You sat up smiling back at him; he stood in between your legs with the belt in his hands.
“Gimme,” he said firmly.
You gave him your hands and he wrapped the belt around them. Tonight he was extra adventurous. Usually he would come and you would ride him maybe once or twice, you’d suck his dick, he would eat you out but all this normally was on the bed or the small couch that’s off to the side.
You’ve never sat on his face, or anyone’s face, and you’ve never been tied up in any way. But you'd do anything for him and if this is what he wants for tonight he was gonna get it.
Bucky kissed you when he finished looping the belt around your wrists. He made sure it wasn’t too tight before laying you back with your hands above your head. He grabbed your panties and slipped them down your legs. He took his pants and boxers off too leaving him bare before you.
He crawled above you and looked to you to make sure you were ok with everything. You’ve had sex almost every for the past few months and he still asks if you’re ok. It’s heartwarming. You nodded with a smile and he slid into you hard and fast.
You moaned loudly and luckily the music was always quite loud in the club, part of the reason you two have never been caught; beside the bartender lady having her suspicions and you telling her because you were getting too anxious not telling anyone.
He kissed you roughly groaning above you as his hips snapped in and out of you repeatedly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pleasure and Bucky chuckled proudly at that. He buried his face in your neck peppering light kisses every now and then.
Your hands tugged away from each other, a pathetic attempt to break the bondage on you. You whined desperately wanting to hold Bucky; to run your hands across his body like he does to you always.
“Bunny, I’m gonna come soon.”
“Me too Bucky. You feel so good.”
“Tell me you let others touch the way I do?”
“No only you!” you moaned.
“Really? ‘Cause that’s not what I saw coming in here; seeing that man have his filthy hands all over you.”
“It’s not real,” you whimpered.
“And this is?” he growled.
“Yes! Bucky, I’m so close,” you sobbed, tears falling down your face in pleasure.
“Me too baby, let go for me. Let go.”
You tumbled over the edge, practically screaming through your climax. Bucky’s arms almost gave out as he came with you. You breathed heavily coming down from your high. Bucky quickly undid the belt and rolled to your side. He grabbed your wrists finding them a little red and kissed them to soothe any pain you had.
“What’s wrong?” you asked him, “You look deep in thought.”
“I want you,” he whispered.
“You already have me,” you said.
“No, I… It’s nothing,” he stood up gathering his clothes.
“You gonna keep working tonight?” he asked, getting dressed.
“No I think I’m done for tonight.”
“Ok well good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, bunny,” he came up to you and kissed you deeply before walking out.
Bucky got back on his back bike parked outside hesitating slightly; he wanted to bring you home. He wanted to fall asleep in your arms and wake up next to you. But he didn’t know if you felt the same way about him; it seemed like it but that was your job. You indulge in men’s desires and fantasy. Maybe that’s all this was, a fantasy.
What he didn’t know was when he felt you, you took your collar off and stared at it. You hated how much you cared for him. How you would do anything for him and he had no fucking clue. He had no idea how he made your heart flutter with every smile, every kiss, every little touch. You were so head over heels for him but you still think this is some fantasy he wants to play for the time being.
Every night you leave after him, scared that it was the last. That you wouldn’t see him the next day because he’d grow tired of you and leave you for someone else. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You wanna talk now?” Steve said walking into Bucky’s room.
“Really?”
“Come on. Something is eating you up and you're being reckless with your paycheck, sneaking out every night and coming back at what,” he looked at the clock on his bedside, “3 in the morning?”
Bucky simply rolled his eyes.
“Are you doing drugs?” he asked like a stern father.
“No! Ugh Steve.”
“Tell me what’s going on, Buck.”
Bucky sighed and hesitated but ultimately confessed.
“I’ve met the love of my life and she doesn’t know it. She probably never will and I hate that.”
“Buck…” Steve sighed hugging his best friend to comfort him.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“The situation is a little complicated; kind of a long story.”
“Well it’s not like either of us are going to sleep anytime soon. I’ll grab the whiskey.”
Bucky chuckled and sat himself down ready to tell Steve about the gorgeous woman he meets at the club every night and how she has him wrapped around her finger; a sickly man in love with a woman he can’t have. His perfect little bunny, Y/n.
#bucky barnes smut#bucky fluff#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#marvel smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes angst
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Inarizaki Giving You A Red Envelope on Lunar New Years
Inarizaki x Manager Reader
FT: Kita Shinsuke, Ren Omimi, Ojiro Aran, Michinari Akagi, Ginjima Hitoshi, Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou
TW: Language
Genre: headcanons + crack + fluff???
Word Count: 1,720 (They’re all rlly short! Like me)
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had another crack convo w my bb @babydontstoop abt atsumu and red envelopes after seeing a funny tiktok
a/n: i mainly went off from chinese/vietnamese tradition with the hóngbāos/ and lì xìs for these headcanons bc i celebrate with my chinese + viet relatives growing up, im not familiar with the other traditions, i’m sorry! also 1 week kinda late but technically lunar new years goes on for about 2 weeks sooooo-
FYI: i’m going off of u.s currency for this asdhfkjk just an fyi.
ALSO: all images are taken off of google search, none of them belong to me!
ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEARS!! 🧧😚💖
Kita Shinsuke:
- He would give a kinda subtle yet pretty envelope
- With an ox on it (bc year of ox)
- It also has that coin u kno the coin, commemorative coin(?)
- He is very VERY generous
- Gives u $100, all in 20′s babbeyy 🙈
- He hands it to you with both hands like he’s ur ah ma / bà nội
- He’s so kind and gentle please 🥺
Practice had just ended and you were helping the team clean out the gym, before packing and heading out to go home.
“Excuse me Y/n” You hear a soft and calm voice calling from behind you. Turning your head you make eye contact with Kita who barely a few feet away from you
“Kita-san! ” You turn to face him, your hands grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “May I help you?” You ask giving a sincere smile.
“I’m fine, but there is something I want to give you before you leave” He lifts his left hand from his back, now using his right to connect and grab the envelope with both hands.
“Happy Chinese New Year” He wishes as he extends and offers you the red envelope.
Blushing furiously, you accept it with both your hands and give him your most heartfelt thanks.
Arriving home, you open the red envelope curious. Your soul leaves your body the moment you see good old Benjamin Franklin on the $100 note.
“Kita-san holy fuck.” You cry in shock. Thinking of how you’re gonna thank him.
Ren Omimi:
- Envelope’s square shaped and plain af
- it’s just red with “lucky money” in gold or sum
- He too is very generous
- Gives u $50
- Also hands it to you with both hands
You sit in the gym with your clip board in hand, taking notes of the other players until you feel a presence approach you from your left side.
“Y/n” The deep voice says. You turn to see Omimi’s shadow towering over you, jesus christ this man’s so goddamn tall. “Yes Omimi?” You greet him cheerfully.
The man says not a word, but pulls out a red envelope, handing it to you with both hands.
Your brain short circuits, confused before he gives a nod. Sudden realization takes place, it’s for you. “Omimi!” You cry, setting down the clip board and taking the red envelope from his hands. Thanking him endlessly before he leaves to get back to practice.
As he turns to walk away, you grab your clip board again, shielding yourself opening the red envelope curious. ‘50$?!’ You scream internally.
Running after Omimi, you tackle him from behind giving him a hug, your face buried into his shirt. “Xiexie” You muffled into his jersey.
Aran Ojiro:
- gets you a very fancy envelope
- Like the ones that isn’t sold in packs when u go to the chinese market
- Specifically the ones made from silk and has a jade ring attached
- He gets u ONE LIKE O N E THAT ONE SPECIFIC DESIGN (pls i sound crazy i’ll just attache the image so u kno what im talking abt)
- He wasnt sure how much to put inside so he gives u $40
- He tries to remember how to say happy new year to you and pronounces it perfectly
- No seriously like PERFECTLY like better than me.
- also take this man home right now to meet your parents i fken swear
“Y/N!” You hear someone yell from behind you as you were walking home. Turning you see Aran running to you, trying to catch up.
“Aran?” You run to meet him halfway.
Aran pauses and takes a few breathes before grabbing his backpack and grabbing something from inside.
He pulls out a beautifully crafted silk red envelope pouch with a tassel and jade ring tied to the front.
You stand there completely flustered and frozen.
He looks down, the envelope in both his hands offering it out to you.
“恭喜發財 (gōng xǐ fā cái)” He says perfectly, the sunset hitting his face.
Akagi Michinari:
- Cute bb would give u the cutest fucking envelope
- Probably w hello kitty on it
- He gives you a $2 bill
- Shiiiii he knows whats up, that shit lucky and rare
- He’d hand it to u while giving u a back hug
“Y/n!!!” Before you can turn around, a heavy weight drags you down from behind. “A-Akagi-san?!” You yelp in surprise.
He stays cling onto you from behind as you try to gain balance. Hearing him let out a soft chuckle. “Here you go!” He says, his arms going around your shoulders to shove the super cute Hello Kitty li xi in your face.
You take a second to process what he had just given you to face. “AKAGI!!” You take it as he hops off your back. Then turning around to smother him into a hug. Giving him little cheek kisses.
Ginjima
- I love him, he would give u a cute envelope too
- Like with a little cartoon ox character on it
- With like lil horns sticking out
- U get the idea
- Gives u $10 but in $2 bills
You sit with the Miya twins and Suna during lunch, scanning around the cafeteria trying to find Ginjima, usually he’d be with you guys.
As you were about to ask-speak of the devil.
“Y/n-chan” He immediately sits beside you, placing his tray of food down.
“This is for you” He reveals the cutest red envelope with a cartoon cow on it, handing it to you flustered. His cheeks bursting red.
You sit and stare for a second, you start to blush feeling embarrassed. Slowly taking it from his hands, you give him a quiet ‘thank you’ before returning to your meal.
Unsure of what to do, before going back into your meal, you quickly turn your head planting a kiss to his cheek.
Osamu, Suna and Atsumu watched, their jaw dropped as Ginjima begins to turn into his own red envelope. Before you quickly place your face in your palms.
Atsumu Miya:
- This mfer would give the flashiest one
- Like you kno the ones that are so colorful and has like
- W those shitty knock-off characters from cartoons
- THE FUCKING MINION OR PEPPA PIG ONE BWHAHAHAH
- Hes broke as fuck so its p empty
jk
- He would put a coin inside.
- Not the fortune coin
- Literally a coin like a quarter or somethin
- Hed slap it against ur table while giving it to u
- He tries to say happy new year but fucking butchers it
You sit at your desk, it’s so early in the morning and your parents had woken you up early to help prepare some cooking essentials for tonight’s dinner.
As you were about to doze off to sleep, you hear a CLACK against your desk, immediately waking you up and having you face up.
Just inches away was Atsumu’s face, that lil smirk oh how you just wanna-
You look down seeing the red envelope he placed on your desk.
“CHUC MUNG NAM MOIIIIIII” he greets dragging out the “i” it’s like he didn’t even try to pronounce the greeting correctly. He ruffles your hair and gives another warm smile.
You look back up to him, blushing before greeting back. “Ah, chúc mừng năm mới ‘Tsumu.”
Atsumu quirks his eyebrow staring back down at you. “I’m pretty sure you said it wrong.” He says before walking off to his desk.
You sit there fucking flabbergasted. ‘What the fuck?’ You blink and turn your attention back down to your desk. Looking at the envelope you cringe. ‘It’s so bright...’ you internally think.
Osamu Miya:
- He gives you the basic basic red envelope
- He was running late and didnt have time to stop by the bank, he wanted to be extra and give you $20 in $2 bills.
- So he just gives you a $20 bill.
- When he hands it to u, u notice its all bumpy
- Ur feeling around the envelope and theirs something else inside than just money
- U open and theres lucky candy stuffed inside
“Good-morningggggg” You turn to look up from your desk, seeing the younger twin walk in after his brother. He looks down at you, then to your desk seeing the red envelope his brother gave you.
He cringes with you, before pulling out another, handing it to you.
“Happy Tết cutie” He greets. You thank him and greet him back as you take the envelope, you realize how bumpy and lumpy it is.
You look back up to Osamu, he’s waiting for you to open it. You open it and out drops like 7 pieces of lucky candy.
You look back up to him in confusion before he swoops in and takes back the 7 pieces, unwrapping them all at once and shoving them into his mouth.
Chewing, he winks at you before walking away to his seat. You can hear the audible crunch coming from the hard as fuck candy as he walks away.
Suna Rintarou:
- My guy doesnt even give you a red envelope
- He straight up just gives you cash
- Drops it on your desk and leaves
…
- Im jk he would come back and be like “sike u thought”
- Pulls out a red envelope, cute but has one of the most stupidest fucking design
You listen to the crunching of Osamu’s poor teeth grinding against the lucky candy before-
“Yo” Before having the time to look up, you hear a slap against your desk as Suna begins to turn to walk away. You look down to see a $50 bill on your desk.
You turn to look at him, he stares at you for a second before walking away.
???
He comes back to you after settling his bag down.
He takes the $50 on your desk and slips it into the red envelope now in his hands. After sliding it in he brings the envelope to his mouth and begins to lick the ends as he seductively looks at you before folding the paper in.
You watch him in disgust suna baby you don’t have to lick the ends of the red envelope that’s not how they work. He sets the red envelope back on your desk, his head coming closer to yours, enough for you to feel his breath against you.
He brings his mouth over to your ear before whispering in a husky voice “Happy Lunar New Year đẹp gái qua~” Before pulling away and walking to his desk like nothing happened.
You sit there absolutely shaken, until you look down to see the red envelope he left. Jesus fuck what the hell is that thing.
A/N: OH TO BE CALLED PRETTY GIRL BY SUNA IS AN ULTIMATE DREAM ASDFGKJHJK pls i wanna gib the inarizaki boys smooches theyre all so great AAAHHHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE MWAH ILYYYY!!!!
#inarizaki#inarizaki x reader#kita shinsuke#ren omimi#aran ojiro#akagi michinari#atsumu miya#osamu miya#Suna Rintarou#suna rintarō#ginjima hitoshi#kita x reader#omimi x reader#aran x reader#akagi x reader#atsumu x reader#osamu x reader#suna x reader#ginjima x reader#inarizaki headcanons#inarizaki crack#inarizaki fluff#inarizaki manager#inarizaki x you#inarizaki x y/n#inarizaki x manager#happy lunar new years!!!
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Okay but hc on Cherry!Mob!Seb fucking reader up after catching her on another man in the club- feed me this content, I beg (love you btw)
Cherry p1
Hmm, interesting because someone else also requested a part 2 to Cherry.
Mkay, here we go...
So
The mob boss would often go out of town for a couple of days
But then he always came back to you, for you rather
But this time, it had been 2 whole weeks and there was still no sign of him
You were a little worried at first, given the nature of his job.
But then the worry turned into annoyance and finally anger by the end of the second week.
He was clearly fine and well, probably having the time of his life with other women
So sulking over his departure was a waste of time.
You taught yourself to move on.
Sure, without his huge amounts of money, you earned much less every day
But it was still better than nothing
You had gained new clients, a couple of regulars too
One night, you were doing what you do best; performing for a very loaded man who showered you with money bills
The man even gave you his gold chain at some point; with his initials on it
Good thing you weren't wearing the collar given by Sebastian
And speaking of the devil...
Once you threw a quick glance around the dark room; you saw him immediately
Surrounded by his guards, hands in his pockets, dressed in a dark suit
Sebastian
His blue eyes glared at you
And just to fuel his very visible anger and discomfort, you moved even sinfully across the man's lap
Your scandalous outfit was perfect as well.
It showed just enough of your body to grab anyone's attention
And your actions clearly angered the mob boss even more
He knew you saw him, so all he did was point towards the private rooms and walked into that section of the club
He knew that sooner or later, you'd follow and join him eventually
And you did, after purposely keeping him waiting for quite a while
"Oh look who's here. What happened, you lost your way?" you sassed.
He kept quiet as he sipped on his liquor; sat on the dark red couch like it was his throne.
He studied your appearance
Your white lacy lingerie
Your excuse of a see-through cover up
Your slightly smudged dark lipstick
The golden chain around your neck, replacing the very expensive diamond collar he had given you a while ago; with his last name on it
But the thing he hated the most, was the bundle of cash tucked into the waistband of your thong
And you were disrespectful enough to show it off
He clenched his jaw as his eyes roamed your body
He had missed you
And he even hurried his way back, eager to find you and have you on his lap while he finally touched you and told you about the time he'd been gone
But no
He return to find that his girl defied him.
"Come here" he simply said, authority dripping from his words
You approached him, thinking he would just be a bitch about what he saw earlier but then he would finally give in
But no
Oh no
The mob boss was furious
He pulled you into his lap and gripped your jaw
"Get your hands off me!" you slapped his hand away
But he placed them back, gripping your face harder this time; it hurt just a little
"Why are you being like this? What the fuck were you doing just now, outside?"
You almost laughed
"My fucking job! Now go get fucked somewhere else!" you were mad too, but under your anger was hidden hurt
You could've sworn you heard him growl the moment you tried get off his lap
Ans within a second he had you pinned down on the couch
He held you by the throat gently
"You will not disrespect me like that, babygirl" he dared to move
You chuckled
"Or what huh? I have nothing to lose, Sebastian. I'm just a whore to you anyways." you sounded as though you were questioning his power
And he hated that, amongst others things
"Just a whore huh? Well, let me show you how I treat one," he'd whisper before going absolutely crazy
He'd tear off your lingerie in less than a few seconds
And you'd let him
You had missed him too, truth is you'd take whatever he'd give you
But he did go a little over the limit
I'm thinking Sebastian would just not care
He'd be degrading
To a point where it hurt
"I was stupid to even give you my attention! Should've left you out there, to be used like a whore"
He spoke while he separated your legs and settled in between them
He was quick to push himself in you, not even bothering about your whimpers
"I was stupid to put you on a fucking pedestal and call you mine. But I leave for a couple days and you get back to where you truly belong. Guess whores never learn, huh?"
He wanted to push your limits; physically and mentally.
He knew his words hurt, but he wanted you to feel how he felt when he walked in to find you on someone else's lap
You whimpered as he filled you up, he didn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just started rocking his hips against yours
You moaned at how good he felt, but then he quickened his pace
He was relentless
"You'll do anything for money, huh? Tell me, did he fuck you like this as well? Did you let him?"
He asked as he merciless pounded into you, pinning your wrists above your head
He grabbed the golden you wore and yanked it off your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground.
You moaned out loud, struggling to keep your eyes open as it started to water
You weren't sure if it was out of pleasure or because of his choice of words
At some point, he'd pull out, turn you around, pull your hips up before pushing into you again from the back
You'd whimper at the intensity of his thrust
"Aww, what is it? You can't take my cock? But isn't that what whores do? Fucking shut up and take it then!"
He'd keep going
You'd cry out his name as the pressure would built in between your legs
"You asked for this, well then fucking take it! What else is a whore good for, huh?"
You felt the tears fall, at the same time your body betrayed you and you came all over his cock.
He grunted as he felt your walls clench around him, milking him perfectly as he came right after you did
Sebastian pulled out and pulled your naked body onto his lap
You had missed his warmth so you instantly clinged to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your face into his neck
You let the tears fall, and sniffled at they did
Sebastian's heart broke
He had been rougher than usual, and rude... He knew that
Sure, he had been angry and rude but he was the only safe place you knew. Or had.
He regretted everything he told you
He was ashamed aa he stroked your bare back gently
"Baby?"
You didn't respond, instead you sniffled again
"Baby, I'm so sorry" he spoke again, his voice a stark contrast to what it was just a minute ago
"You're mean" you finally spoke, voice strained and tired
You sobbed softly, still holding him tightly.
His heart broke a little more. Once he was done, you could've easily left, but you didn't
You stayed because you had no one else, and you needed to be held and taken care of.
"I'm sorry baby, i know i was rude and bad. But it's only because i thought you wouldn't be mine ever again. And I couldn't live with that" he explained.
You sniffled again.
"Still. You were so mean" you spoke, pulling away to look at him with tears in your eyes.
He wiped your tears away and pulled you into him
"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Will you please forgive me, baby"
"No" you simply said, avoiding his blue eyes.
He sighed, knowing you'd come around.
He put his suit jacket around you and carried you out of the club through the back door and into his car.
He sat you down gently and drove as fast as he could.
The silence was heavy, but not unpleasant
"I didn't wanna do it" you said, leaning against the window
He was confused
"Do what?" he asked
You wiped some more tears away and took a deep breath.
"I didn't want to perform for the man. But I'm running out of money, and I have to pay this month's rent or my landlord will kick me out."
You finally confessed
"You could've just told me that, Y/N" he said, sounding more caring than you wanted him to.
You almost chuckled through the pain
"You were gone for a week, Sebastian. Besides, that's my problem, not yours." you made it clear.
But he didn't like that.
He stopped the car abruptly.
"You are mine! All your troubles are mine, okay? You don't have to worry anyways, you're never going back to work in that club"
You knew that possessive tone, and it only entailed surprises.
"What do you mean?" you questioned further
"I'm buying it. You can run it." he spoke as if it were nothing at all.
You were shocked.
"Seb, what-"
He cut you off.
"You heard what i said, baby"
"But why?"
"Because i want you all to myself. I want you to be with me."
You scoffed.
"This is how you ask girls out?"
He looked at you and smiled.
"Not girls, just you." He caressed your tear stained cheek lazily.
After talking about it, after he constantly apologized for his previous behavior and a few playful banters later, he started the car again.
"Where are we going?" you asked
"Home." he replied.
"Your home?"
"Our home." he corrected you. And you almost cried again.
"Why? Haven't you had your fill?" you teased.
"I have. But every king needs his queen by his side. And I need you. I'll keep you safe and happy. Forever."
a/n: *sobs* y'all-
Everything tag list:
@charmed-asylum
@ravenmoore14
@stangirl-fangirl264
@xbuckxnastyx
@qrndevans
@starkerhowlter
@fafulous
@smolandrare-coffee-bean
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@anncutamarica
#sebastian stan x reader smut#sebastian stan headcanons#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan#sebastian stan smut#sebastian x reader#sebastian au#mob seb#mobster seb#mob bucky#mobster bucky#mob au#sinner as saint#marvel fic#marvel smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes au
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Devil's Advocate
//
Tommy x Arabella
Word count- 1.8k
Trigger Warnings- None as such
A/N- It is kind of a rebuilt of a scene in S5 E1 when they all have a family meeting in The Garrison. I've included it just in the starting to form a base for writing the rest of it. I wanted to accommodate my OC in there because it felt right. And yes I always want Tommy to get some sleep. God knows he needs it.
//
The title is from "Devil's Advocate" by The Neighborhood. Felt good for a title to this. Though I wouldn't say the song itself fits in this scenario.
//
//
All settled in the old area of the Garrison when Lizzie spoke up "Can I begin this family meeting with a proposal? From now on we find somewhere else to meet?"
"Your boss believes that being seen mixing with the common people is good politics" said Ada
"Well if it's our campaign for socialism, perhaps next time, Polly, you won't wear earrings worth more than the pub" retorted Roslyn who found a place beside Polly to sit
Arthur occupied a table as well and Tommy took his place standing with a pillar, lighting a cigarette
"Right. Family meeting. First Item. This" Ada slammed a spent bullet on the table "Dug out of our Finn's arm yesterday by Aberama Gold, using your Gin and a razor blade"
"Finn?" asked Lizzie
"He says they were sent to Limehouse, Chinatown" Ada continued
"Sent by fucking who?" asked Lizzie, again.
"Sent by me" Tommy answered "I told Finn to stay outta this. He obviously didn't listen"
He was clearly annoyed
Roslyn just sat there and listened. It wasn't too surprising for her to see that her husband had sent his little brother to do something like that. But she hadn't known about this "What's in Chinatown, Tommy? What is going on?" she asked calmly.
Tommy sighed a little and answered "50,000 pounds, in cash"
"He said they were sent to Chinatown to kill somebody" Ada said
"The kid needs education Tommy, he really does" Arthur was irritated by his kid brother's inability to keep things confidential, ofcourse.
"It was a particular opportunity" Polly started
"A particular opportunity presented to me in confidence, I dealt with it in confidence" Tommy said as a matter of fact.
"How important was it?" Roslyn asked, her voice levelled
"Tommy told me there was a pimp in east London who sold kids" Polly defended
"Fucking kids, right?" Arthur came in
"This pimp was blackmailing a senior member of the house of Lords, a very wealthy man" Tommy tied to explain
"Now this pimp is lying in a ditch, covered in flies. The world is a better place" Arthur supported him, opening a bottle of whiskey
"Holy fuck so now your business is improving the world?" Ada scolded them, very mad that they had sent their little brother to do Blinder business.
"The man we did the job for is a high court judge. We received intelligence from a senior police officer in Scotland yard. I've made lots of friends in London, Men with influence. The Police felt the same way about this pimp as we did" he explained further, again, as a matter of fact "He wasn't worth a trial. The coppers cleared the streets for us. This work was commissioned by a High Court judge, by Scotland Yard and by the House Of Lords"
"It's a particular opportunity. It's not to be repeated" Polly defended him
"And it was the right thing to do" Tommy tried again
"Fucking right" Arthur joined him
"I can't be bothered with this shit" Lizzie muttered, irritated and mad, and left.
Roslyn was mad too, that they had been careless enough to send Finn for this job. But she knew this wasn't to be dealt with that easily "They're right, Ada" she glanced at Ada and then to everybody else as she spoke "If Finn is to take care of that side of the business he'll have to go out, witness and experience how it's done. Dangers and Bullets included, Isn't it?" she gave Tommy a side eye, talking in a dangerously calm tone "Anyway, he's a Shelby. Being afraid of bullets shouldn't be in him. It's only practical"
Tommy, Polly and Ada looked at Roslyn like she'd read verses from Satan's own holy book. Arthur nodded.
Roslyn got up "Now if you'll please excuse me, I am getting late for my train to London", she nodded once at Arthur and Tommy before leaving.
"What's wrong with her?" asked Polly, still a little in shock
The meeting went on till Tommy and Arthur were the only ones remaining, discussing bullets and Chinese
.
.
.
.
Tommy came home tired, straight from Westminster. The strange interaction with his son left him a bit more drained. Arthur had told Charlie it was in God's hands, the death of his favourite horse. If Tommy believed in God then maybe he would agree with this someday. But he didn't. Couldn't.
He asked for Roslyn the moment he came back inside. He wanted to talk to her about what she'd said in the meeting. It had left him angry and called-out.
He knocked on the door of her study. Walking in before she permitted him to, clearing his throat, found himself a place on the opposite side of the desk.
"Good evening, Tommy. How was your day?" she greeted him, without looking up from her papers.
"Why'd you say that in the meeting?" he asked, totally ignoring the greeting.
"Coming straight to the point, are we?" she said, still not looking up.
He just waited for her to answer.
Roslyn knew what he was here for and there was no use going around in circles.
Looking up, she started to speak, but for a second she noticed how tired he looked and almost wanted to take him to bed to just let him sleep comfortably in her arms. Oh how she wished, she could but they didn't work that way, did they?
"I meant every word I said in the meeting, Tom" she paused in case he wanted to react, but carried on when he didn't "If Finn is to handle that side of the business he will have to face the dangers. He can't sit here protected. No one comes out in one piece handling that side of affairs. You and Arthur, of all people, understand that don't you?"
He just stared at her. She shifted in her seat, leaning in, arms on the desk "Tommy, you and your brothers had to get into dirty business because you didn't have a choice. But Finn has a choice. He is very young and now his family is more than capable of giving him a better life than any one of us has had" she wanted to let it all out "I know you do not want him to get hurt, but if you keep pushing him he will get hurt it's inevitable. He's not like you or Arthur or John"
"What do you imply?" he asked, voice deep and low. Calm.
"I say we send him off to a good university. That's the only way to get him away from the bad side. I'm not saying we send him somewhere far away like America. I say we keep him in Britain. Oxford, Cambridge, London"
He hardly spoke but she could sense the gears of his mind working
"He will mingle with intelligent, brilliant and decent people there. See the world for what it really is. Away from all this dirt. He will take up Law or Commerce. Come back as an asset to the company. Tommy, it's not such a bad idea you know that" she knew he understood the language of profits better, so if she had to use that she would.
Now he nodded, his gaze had shifted down to the desk where her hands lay. He was thinking, gone in his mind.
"Think of him as an elder son of yours"
He looked up at her, hints of sudden anger but an overall understanding
She sat back. Roslyn had said everything she had wanted to. Now it was up to her husband to decide.
"We want people here" he quietly said "To keep the cash coming in"
"I know. But we have Mr. Gold and Isiah for that and we can hire more people. I can give you more of my business. We have alternatives" she said
He ran hand through his hair and face, fingers landing on his eyes. He was exhausted. Spent. From all the thinking.
"You're tired. Go get some rest we can talk about this some other day" she felt like she was talking too much anyway
He laid back in the chair, eyes closed, head resting on the back. Stayed there for a few seconds before getting up.
"I will consider this, Arabella" he said before leaving
.
.
.
.
"Mrs. Shelby, you could've called me if you needed anything" Frances said, a little worried, when she found Roslyn in the kitchen
"It's okay, Frances. You and the staff can retire for the day. Goodnight" She said with a polite smile. She liked Frances but also disliked her a tad bit because of how nosy she was sometimes. She was Tommy's personal informant in the house.
She nodded "Yes. Goodnight, Mrs. Shelby"
Roslyn had decided to make a calming tea for Tommy. She had it sometimes when she was too tired to sleep. The tea made her relax. She was hoping it would have the same effect on Tommy, though it was questionable.
She put in tea, some herbs she used, lavender and a dash of rum. She even made this tea for Alfie once and he slept like a baby for atleast two hours. A smile played on her lips when she thought of it.
.
.
She checked the library first. That was Tommy's sanctuary. She knocked before entering with the tray.
He looked up from his desk, confused, watching her as she kept the tray on the table in front of the couch.
"I made tea" she said, inviting him to the couch with a tilt of her head, while pouring the drink into her favourite cups.
Surprisingly he obeyed. He was a little taken aback because he didn't know she could make tea. Or be that homely. Or maybe he had completely ignored it till now.
He sat to her right. She shifted to the far left of the couch so they weren't too, at all, close.
"Here" she bent to hand him the cup.
They drank the tea in silence.
When they finished, she softly said, while getting up "I drink this tea to help me calm down. If you feel sleepy in a few minutes, just sleep, okay?"
Tommy looked at her get up, laying back on the couch.
She left, hoping Tommy would sleep a few hours atleast. Made a mental note to come check in an hour,
.
.
She immersed herself in work because she didn't want to sleep just yet. After fighting sleep for an hour, she finally made her way to the library, praying in her head for him to be asleep.
Much to her shock and relief, he had dozed off. He was sleeping, lying fully down on the couch. She was proud of her tea today because if it could make Tommy sleep, it could make anyone sleep.
She quietly left. Content that he'd atleast get some, if not much, sleep tonight.
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#finn shelby#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#tommy x oc#arabella roslyn asheton
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anyways im gonna listen to/read the fuckin...rise of the ogre shit bc ive been putting it off 🪓🥴 im gonna put stuff under the cut bc im gonna be TALKING n dont wanna make a new post everytime
piss
ok he performed for 2 pounds 50. which is basically $3 today i- well it was absolutely a power play on his father behalf that also had the promise of money so.
also lol he said Rejection fueled my ambitions which, yknow,, i already knew but it still hurts and i will continue to talk ab it xoxo
AH HELP. "...if ebay had been invented at the time he would've sold me online there and then,"
"man hands on misery to man, yknow"
THEN PROCEEDS TO CONNECT IT TO MUSIC/HIS CAREER. this man said :) the one thing i truly have a passion for. the one thing i fucking like.
oh yeah. bullied by students AND teachers.
oh god hes 42ish during this interview? ok.
the fuckin school bully saying he wouldve acted differently if he knew what hed become
getting called "faceache", then proceeds to call 2d that. jfc he really does just repeat what everyone says. really "treating others how i was treated/how they treat me"
maybe thats why? hes kinder to fans? bc :] you support me and like me so, ok ill return that energy
MURDOC GETTING HIS ASS BEAT N PARADING HOME LIKE WELL I WON BC 'I PISSED YOU OFF' SJDJD
a real rowdy boy. absolute nasty boy. fraud and arson... shooting ppls windows with his air pistols
black sabbath being a huge inspiration? fucking absolutely.
became a satanist n shit at age 16? "it fitted me like a glove" "heavy metal and devil worshipping became my favorite past times" ajsj funny that ppl in trying times often seek religion or following of some sort
heavy metal being his favorite, n loving the clash, while hannibals was more punk based
hannibal breaking murdocs nose for the 2nd and 3rd time for playing his music on hannibals turntable
he doesnt sound that bitter? ab hannibal? he doesnt sound incredibly fond but he talks ab how he got him into a lot of music. so, i imagine they we're a bit closer than i thought?
international baccalaureate in antisocial? anthropology?
MURDOC IS ACTUALLY SMART HE WAS JUST. NOT INTERESTED IN THE SUBJECTS? I GUESS? (also,,, he literally Built cyborg noodle and i think he had a PhD too lol. but its always nice to hear hes actually...yknow, interested or good at other things)
alright but murdoc having a fascination w/ other cultures - or at least some interests, that lead him to actually study the damn subject and "pass with flying colors"
'fuck college though. im gonna be a rockstar'
he sold his soul at 18ish? whenever the fuck he got kicked out but college was mentioned so my brain goes to 18ish idk
he lived with his father still and paid rent via low paying jobs one including 'part time dressing as santa'
help he was ab to take a Personal Job for quick cash and uhh well, "still made me call him sir though" he really said 20 dollars is 20 dollars, huh "that story was totally true"
alright, 1997,,,
2d stuff
loves zombie stuff? thats really cute, and is freaked out by the way they move. god he rambles
both he and murdoc are horses in the chinese zodiac
[[jfc ok if the official shit compares them a lot i understand why ppl ship them but Dont. its a narrative foil and that doesnt always mean Romance jfc.]]
SUMTHINK.
truly... a lil stinker. super cute bouncing baby and a "bit thick" which is stull so endearing to me. hes just a happy man!
excitable 10 year old and would dance around his room
jfc the fact he has normal/caring parents. i kinda forget how opposite hes supposed to be from murdoc but i think thats another thing jsjsysg (murdoc said why isnt my tragic story making me famous why does he get to be the Star. no wonder he acts like a loon)
i still dont get how gettin bonked by a tree branch made him go bald and also turn his hair blue
big tiddy nurse mommy,,,
went to the same school as The Cure and got decent grades despite hittin the noggin quite hard. WANTED TO BE A STORM CHASER... OMG??
oh thats really cute, hed bond with his dad by building keyboards toegther 🥺💕
messed around with paints and graffiti? artistic king
MURDOC AGAIN: QHDJ 'VILLANOUS' GANG HELP
oh yeah d day...new instruments, new band, new singer - and 'had to be the best or no dice' and absolutely CONFIDENT that his songs were bangers ajsjd
but on that same note, had absolute faith (or desperate) in 2d which i love
ransacked the fucking music shop jdjdj and 2d said he was Just Standing There behind the counter the whole shift hdhdh
"thats when your eye came out, yeah" "yeah!-" HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND SO HAPPY AB IT ?? yes he said ut hurt but he sounds...ok
jfc murdoc ragdolling this poor mf around. dunking him and slapping him around. actually? so incredibly terrible and abusive and i hate him for that 🔫 im sorry 2d stans. we dont condone that behavior here ong.
how and why the FUCK did 2d's parents allow that fucker near their child after that i??? help. wtf. his moms a nurse why didnt she just have murdoc sit in plain view of other people. god damn.
2d flying out the window n hitting the curb "whoops"
"just two black holes...[ah] it looked great...a blue hair, blacked eyed GOD- the girls would go wild-" "pretty boy looks" ???? HELP. HE DOESNT GO LIGHT ON THE COMPLIMENTS, HUH
RUSS TIME
oh yeah, he straight up kiddnapped this man help. idk how he managed that, russ is a Big Man??
AND MURDOCS MUSIC WAS SO FUCKING SEXY GOOD that russel said hm alright ill stay, :] out ifbhis owm free will im screaming.
"oh this is one of them febreeze commercials" "uh . yeah sure. *murdoc turning on his Sick Tunes*" but that either means? it was just his guitar playing the convinced russ? unless he and 2d recorded sumn?
"2d was the looks, murdoc the brains, then russel truly was the heart"
'while 2d and murdoc liked music, this man was a MUSICIAN' god fucking bless this book holy shit ny man russ getting some respect. he said back hurts from carrying this band.
murdoc basically heard this guy had big trauma that gave him So Many Skills n said "thats what i want" ok idk thats actually really? inch rest ting to me. seems that murdocs fine handing out compliments but i guess that where his charisma really helps out yeah?
"he was going to be in my band whether he liked it or not" ...murdoc-
HELP. 2D IS LIKE BRO GO ON IM LISTENING 🥺 despite hearing the story 50-60 times and murdoc said fuck off you lil shit.
ok irrelevant but i love his voice! its super comforting n nice to listen to 🥺
HELP MURDOCS SO BITTER. "NOTHING THAT HAPPENS TO US IS NORMAL" WELL YEAH. THIS IS TRAUMA CENTRAL.
idk how/why he sucked up all his friends souls though ... how are they all possessing the same person. they said "its my turn on The Russ"
DELL IS HIS ACTUAL, LITERAL SOULMATE...KING...😭
went to a private school,,, and was already possessed? and the thing where he gets bigger and smaller is a reoccurring thing?
was in a coma for 4 years?
hiphop machine...time and history...the ultimate set i guess.
his knowledge was infinite and hes a "Renaissance man" hes so fucking smart our king. jack of all trades but a master of drums. he said i know im good and what of it
PAULA.
HELP. HE RMBRS THE STALL: CUBICAL NUMBER 3 🥴 IF I DO RECALL 🤤
yes russel our king. fuck up his nose 5 more times. probably stunted his growth too. he shrunk after russ gave him a wallop im sure
why dies paula sound like tracer overwatch
also only dated 2d for 2 months before joining the band?
HELP SHE REALLY WAS THE FIRST MURDOC FUCKER: "but when i saw murdoc with his thick greasy hair, green teeth and yellow skin i thought 'oh this is the ine for me!'" "OH HES SUCH A DANDY-" HELP ME IM HQJDHD
sick in the head...like i want to hurt people help girl. shes fucking Crazy. but she rly said damn i didnt hear back from him again 😭 and my purse is gone JSHHD
MURDOC: SHE WAS DEPRESSINGLY UGLY *still fucked her*
NOODLE TIME
"small japanese person!"
2d: we werent gorillaz until noodle arrived!
im dying the reason he chose gorillaz. 'swinging through the jungle baring my ass'
noodle really said "im just happy to be here" and she balanced everyone out 😭 "she gave off pure love and the fact that she could laugh at murdoc REALLY helped too" RUSS... IS BABY
JFC MURDOCS SO FUCKING CONFIDENT IN THIS BAND IM LIVING FOR THAT. HE SAID YOU WANT US SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID. THE CHARISMA
2d rambling ab some girl he met and "ssSs" "whats the s stand for hawhaw" "i dont know!".
THE RECORD LABEL GUY.
one song is all it took i ❤ good for them
just murdoc talking ab the party that they threw for thier deal and saying "you dont know how much of a dick i felt like [when carrying one of those huge checks]" like oh thats whatll make you a dick? alright.
A FOOD FIGHT THAT WENT SO HARD THAT IT KNOCKED 2DS TONSILS OUT? WHAT THE FUCK
ahshdj damon and murdoc not getting along bc of Rival Band One Uppery + damon calling murdocs cuban heels crap since ge wore steel ones with gold spurs.
MURDOC FEELIN EMBARRASSED BC HES 'QUITE PROUD OF HIS SHOES'
but the band and damon getting over music and their ambitions and became a "paternal figure"
HELP MURDOC SAID AWIOGA @ RACHEL WHICH MADE HER THROW HER DRINK IN HIS FACE AND SPLIT FROM 2D. kinda sad actually, she said i still like 2d but murdoc kinda ruined it by trying to get it in with me, it put a strain in our relationship :/ oh god murdocs That Dude
nov 31 1998: started recording :]
40 tracks that got cut down to 15 holy shit
KONG STUDIOS 🤲
hooking up cameras in every room ejdjsu
webby artist of the year in 2006? holy shit
noodle learning ab kong studios omfg
JFC. YES I KNEW KONG WAS BUILT ON/IN A CEMETERY BUT I DIDNT KNOW PPL FOR THE FUCKING PLAGUE WHERE THROWN THERE HDJD
built in 1739?
the ghost of the first owners ghost still roams around in the kitchen in the early hours and moans 'aaa glass of water'
theres some rotting bullshit near the studios and in the summer its fucking TERRIBLE
the former owners were a biker gang, and they all died in a fire
murdoc said this place has bad vibes. i want it.
grim weather
the building feels impossible to escape from huHgg
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Time To Go [9] Epilogue: How To Lose A Fortune In 10 Days
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Rating: M
Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison
Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon
Chapter: 9/9
Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]
Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3.
It’s the last chapter!!! I’m so excited to have this story wrap up, but it being my first DMC fic it’s also a bit bittersweet too. I want to give a huge thanks to @copper-wasp for being such an awesome beta, and to @solynacea for being an amazing friend and cheerleader.
I have some new fics in the works and will be publishing new stuff in the next couple of weeks! Meanwhile please leave me a comment or emoji to let me know how you liked the story. I’m also planning a sequel so if you liked the fic and want more, let me know! Please enjoy and thank you to everyone for reading!
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Nero lounges on the couch, feet up on the ottoman, Kyrie curled up next to him. Her head rests on his shoulder, his hand rubbing her thigh as they watch a movie. It has been a few weeks since he had found her again, and he savors moments like this now, when the kids are in bed and the house is quiet and it can be just them together. Most guys his age are probably at a bar or club, but Nero must admit he likes this domesticity. Even though it was barely a full twenty-four hours, her disappearance had affected him, and only reinforced his determination to protect their family.
He turns and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Kyrie smiles up at him and wraps her arms around his, snuggling closer. "You look thoughtful," she murmurs.
"Just thinking of you," he replies.
Kyrie rests her head back on him, and Nero moves his arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Protect their family. The words had taken on a new meaning since his search. Particularly where Dante and Vergil stand; Nero has found his patience with them both is lasting a bit longer, his willingness to overlook their more ridiculous traits a bit easier. He had even started calling Vergil every few days to check on him or just say hello, even though the conversations are stilted and at times, uncomfortable. Dante is easier, but he always had been, their work allowing them a more natural way to bond and his natural goofiness not allowing any room for awkwardness.
He goes back to watching the movie, thinking about whether or not he should get Vergil a cell phone—a piece of technology the man is strangely against but would make all their lives a hell of a lot easier if he would just give in—when his own rings. Kyrie eases back as he fishes it out of his pocket, sighing when he sees Dante's number on the screen. "Yeah?" he chuckles as he swipes to answer.
"Hey kid, you home?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Cool."
The line goes dead and he frowns. Kyrie is sitting up, having paused the movie, and Nero looks over as she asks, "What was that?"
"Who knows."
Their front door bursts open, making them both jump. Dante and Vergil stroll inside, and it isn't so much the intrusion that has Nero gaping as what they are wearing. Vergi is in what is best described as a tuxedo; but it is purple, possibly velvet, with a tight doublet and a puffed collar, the monocle he wears and cane he carries completing the look of some medieval count. He flicks the tails of his coat behind him as he sits in their recliner, grinning.
Dante has taken the opposite track. His suit is bright orange, the shirt underneath unbuttoned to nearly his navel, several gold chains hanging on his chest. He taps his cowboy hat as he walks through the room, and when he does a turn Nero is startled to see he is wearing snakeskin boots that jingle with each step.
"What the actual fuck?" says Nero.
"Nero," Kyrie chastises with a laugh, her hand pressing to his arm as he continues to stare. Dante places a briefcase on the coffee table, and Nero shakes his head to see his fingers have several large, clearly fake gold rings.
"Wait until we tell you what happened," Dante says.
He and Kyrie exchange a glance. "Oh, I can't wait," he sighs.
Dante holds up his palms. "Get this. We were thinking, right, about what those dinguses said who took Kyrie. How mom's family had money. So we went to look, me and Vergil." He gestures between them. "We found the old house, and let me tell you, it looks like hell. But it's still there. I thought for sure there'd be some kind of, I don't know, strip mall or something there by now. But the land is untouched."
Nero looks between them. "Which means what?"
"Which means it still belongs to the Sparda family," Vergil says. "Not the bank. Which means Father and Mother had already paid it off."
"So we went to city hall in the nearest town," continues Dante. "Found the deed and everything. Sure enough, Eva Sparda, right there."
He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Nero. Kyrie peers over his shoulder as he reads, and just as Dante had described, it is a deed for two hundred and fifty acres of land, paid in full. "Wow," he says. "This must be worth a lot by now."
"Yeah! So Vergil and I went to the bank. We figured we could take out a loan, and use the place as collateral."
Nero frowns up at Dante. "You really think that's a good idea? Getting in more debt?"
"We didn't have to," Vergil says.
"What do you mean?"
Dante gestures excitedly as Vergil explains, "Once we gave our names, the banker recognized us. Said we had a safety deposit box there, that could only be opened when we came together."
"It's been there since we were born!" Dante exclaims. "It was opened when we were only a month old."
"So what was in it?" Nero asks, his own excitement starting to spark.
"Tons of stuff," Dante says. "Papers from the house, our birth certificates. Who knew I even had one?"
Nero chuckles. "You're official."
Dante nods. "I existed this whole time and never even knew."
"You've left out the best part," Vergil scolds him. "The deposit box also had the fortune those dinguses were after."
Both Nero and Kyrie give a gasp at the same time. "What do you mean, fortune?" Nero asks tightly.
"Stocks. Bonds. Stakes in all sorts of businesses." Dante grins and puts his hands on his hips. "Worth at least a million dollars."
The blood drains from Nero's face as he takes it all in. Their family, millionaires? This could be a game changer. They could move, get a bigger house, get out of the city like he's been dying to for years. They could afford to formally adopt. Samuel will be going to college in a few years—hell, Kyrie has been talking about taking classes too, and it can happen. A home, school, their futures secure.
His eyes slide to the briefcase on the table. "So what do we do?"
"Well," Dante says, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't as easy as we thought. We called Morrison, and he hooked us up with his lawyer guy. We cashed in the money and paid off the debt we owed."
"You owed," Vergil interjects.
"Well devil hunting isn't easy. And I didn't exactly have a steady stream of income spending three months in hell, you know," Dante argues.
Nero shakes his head. "Wait. So there's nothing left?"
"Well I wouldn't say that," answers Dante. "I paid off the building, so I own it outright now. Then I paid the utilities, and the insurance I owed, and what I owed Lady, and what I had borrowed from Morrison, and paid all the back taxes."
"And I paid off my apartment, and the fines for um… some of my run-ins with the locals," Vergil adds.
"We also used some for these cool business outfits," Dante says. "What do you think?"
Nero blinks, but Kyrie answers, "You both look wonderful."
"We took your advice too, Nero," Vergil says quietly.
He frowns at his father. "My advice? What advice?"
"We hired a private investigator. Paid up front," replies Vergil. "We want to find out what happened to Sparda, once and for all. He is going to find us all the information he can, and then we're going to figure out where he is, and if he is alive."
"You'll come too, right?" Dante asks.
Nero hesitates for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "Sorry, I'm still processing all this." He glances at Kyrie, who is smiling broadly at him.
"It's amazing," she says sincerely.
"Yeah. Find Sparda, huh?" Nero chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'd be down for that. Sparda Family road trip, part two."
Dante cheers as Vergil chuckles, and Nero holds the deed out to return it. But Dante waves him off. "No, you keep it."
"What?"
"Vergil and I talked about it. You deserve something too, and neither one of us can take care of the place. You can sell it, or rebuild, or do whatever you want." Dante shrugs. "The property belongs to you now."
Nero looks between them in shock as Kyrie grips his arm. "Really? You're giving this to me?"
"Of course," Vergil says. "You're Eva's grandson. You should inherit her house."
"I don't know what to say." The money is gone, just like that; but that's okay, isn't it? In the end, they all got what they needed, and Nero smiles. "I'm happy for you guys," he says slowly. "I really am. And this… thank you." He looks over the deed one more time, his chest tightening a bit.
Kyrie kisses his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts. "So what's with the briefcase?" he asks.
Dante grins and sits on the floor, laying it down to fiddle with the clasp. "Last of the money in here."
"Oh yeah?" Nero slides forward, wondering how much. Maybe a few thousand?
Instead, there are four Big Macs and a twenty-piece McNugget inside. "Celebratory dinner on us," Dante says happily.
He hands Vergil a sandwich before tossing one to Nero, which he looks down at in a mixture of amusement and confusion. "You guys really know how to live well," he laughs.
Dante pretends to "clink" his Big Mac with Kyrie's, and they dig into the meal when Nico appears at the door. "You guys still on your date?" she calls obnoxiously before gawking at them. "Hey! You got McDonald's and didn't tell me?" She plops down next to Dante, leaning over him to scoop up some nuggets. "Halloween was a week ago, you know," Nico jokes, eyeing his outfit.
"Hey, I make this look good," he says.
Nero laughs, listening to them argue and then team up together when Vergil jumps in. Kyrie leans against him and he puts his arm around her, giving her cheek a kiss. His eyes fall on the deed to the Sparda land as he smiles to himself. Protect their family. Yeah, absolutely.
#dmc#devil may cry#dmc dante#dmc nero#dmc vergil#nerokiri#dmc kyrie#dmc nico#dante sparda#vergil sparda#fan fiction#time to go#myfic#it's all done!#please help me celebrate :)
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Notes from a Racecar Bed
The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) I’m only YT-current, not VRV-current, and it’s been four episodes, so I’m well aware this ship could get sunk at any time. I’m just having fun while I can. AU where I have a more “normal” job based on real-life events but do evil on the side. This ficlet features some sensuality (though no overt sexuality), discussion of illegal activities I only do in my fantasies and would never do IRL, and a blatant admission of how many ASMR videos I have watched, because cringe culture is now dead on my blog.
***
Like so many nights before, sitting on the racecar bed, me with my legs crossed, him curled behind me. So lucky he likes to spoil his favorite minion, I thought.
Though given who we were, it wasn’t a sexual tantalization. No, he’d found the weak spots in my shoulders. His fingers would dig into them for less than a minute and I would be like a collapsing water balloon.
“ – and then she fuckin’ waves me over, even though I’m helping that other guy,” I rant, “and I have to just up and abandon the dude and walk over to see what she wants, and it turns out her card doesn’t have enough money on it, surprise surprise, but oh noooooo she can’t possibly believe that, but I’ve got this guy waiting, so I go bug my manager, and she’s trying to tell me she’s on the phone, but I see this lady about to EXPLODE so I tell her that this CAN-NOT-WAIT, and long story short, that’s why this Saturday, I really need to get some cash the good old-fashioned illegal way.”
“What, like tricking a gas station clerk into leaving his station for just long enough that you can get behind the counter and steal an entire pack of scratch lottery?”
“…That was incredibly specific, Gio.”
His left hand kept massaging my shoulder; his right disappeared, and I could hear the nightstand drawer opening. “Prepare yourself,” he teased. “You’re about to tell me I’m the best boyfriend-slash-boss you could ever have in three…two…”
A pack of scratch lottery, thicker than a deck of cards, was tossed rather unceremoniously onto the blanket in front of me.
“Oh my GOD!” You’d think that would have been a scream of dismay and horror, but I’d lost my morals a long time ago. I picked the pack up with glee. “You even got the crosswords!”
“I know how much you love a good puzzle.”
“This is so gonna help me pass the time at my car appointment.”
I could feel him wincing as his right hand returned to my shoulder. “Just don’t, y’know, bring the whole thing to the dealership. Because if they see you with that – well, I learned that the HARD way.”
“Yeah, I bet you – “ I realized what didn’t add up. “Dealership? You drive a fucking Vespa.”
“WHICH YOU CAN GET AT DEALERSHIPS!”
“Fair point. Anyway, I’ll just sneak like five into my book.”
He ended it the way he always did – halting slowly, then dragging both palms down my back. I shivered, and I knew he noticed. “No offense, but I think my thumbs are gonna fall off.”
“I thought that was longer than usual.” I then stopped to ponder it. “…Have I ever tried on you?”
“Wait, what?”
“Have I ever tried massaging YOUR shoulders?”
I could hear a snicker from behind. “You know, that actually sounds amazing and quite well-deserved on my part.”
“Well, then let’s switch places, dork.”
First, I turned about to look up into his eyes, their gold flecks reflecting off the irises. God, I could call my eyes “the color of ocean at twilight” in parody fanfic 365 days out of the year and that wouldn’t change the fact that they were the dullest possible mix of blue-green-gray. And his eyes…they always sparkled.
His lips curled into a sly smile, his fangs peeking out beneath his upper lip. “Are you lost in my eyes again? I must say, I can’t blame you.”
I flushed, turning away instinctively. His hand beneath my chin, turning my gaze back up to meet his, changed that.
“Uh…hi?” I said rather nervously. Still wondering how this happened. How I could have been with someone for this long, nestled into him atop a racecar bed with his hands on my shoulders for half an hour, and still get so anxious about him.
“You know, Composer…” He was now smirking broadly. “Your eyes are the color of this one sapphire necklace I stole once. But also kinda mixed with the color of the worst bruise I’ve ever gotten. And man, was I proud of that bruise. And that necklace. Actually, I’m pretty sure I got those on the same day…the point is, they’re beautiful. Your eyes, I mean.” He pinched the hinge of my glasses, pushing them closer to my face.
Part of me I kept wanting gone but he obviously didn’t.
“Thank you,” I practically choked. “They’re…nothing compared to yours.”
“Well, mine are the best, but yours are a really close SECOND best!”
Now I was the one practically laughing. “Just switch with me.”
As we crawled around each other, I couldn’t help but admire his frame – I always did. Just something about his slender lankiness that made my heart speed up. Even sitting, he was taller than me, just by a bit, but enough that I felt dwarfed. Now I was faced with his shoulders, and above that, the fluffy fringes of his cotton-candy hair.
A lump rose in my throat; I was almost too nervous to start. After all, there was a very decent chance I sucked at this. I just tried to remember how I wanted it done; do unto others. I lay hands on him, beginning to work. “So tell me,” I urged, “what minor nuisances pissed you off today?”
“Well, I almost had to change Car Crash’s name to Vespa Crash.”
“Ouch.”
“Then there was the person with the whole ‘Anvil’ Epithet. Whose Epithet is ANVIL? I was lucky to get ou – I mean I was lucky to get a way better Epithet than that. I mean, Soup is better than ANVIL, right? But I was always going to get out of there with – “
He gave a sudden, sharp intake of breath, and my hands froze. I had just remembered how much I enjoyed when he dug into the very hollows of my shoulders, that all-too-often tense spot leading up to my neck, and had been attempting to mimic that. Probably a bad idea. “Did that hurt?” I asked softly.
To my surprise, he replied, “That…did the exact opposite of hurt. Keep doing it?”
“…Yeah. Okay. Sure.”
As I resumed, I found myself compelled to ask: “So, did that, like, turn you ON or – “
“Of course not, but this might be the closest I can get.”
“Well, you know you can always promote yourself to demi at this point and I won’t even be mad.” I gave my left hand a break to flick at the ends of his hair. “I won’t be able to help you with any of it, but – “
“That’s not in your contract, Composer. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Duly noted, Boss.”
I had been better at mimicry than I had expected. He was practically melting back toward me, his shoulder-flesh sinking beneath my hands. That was when I got a rather devilish idea. “You know…I may or may not have a few other tricks up my sleeve.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, play them on me and let’s see how well I withstand them.”
“You know the sheer volume of ASMR videos I watch, right?” This room being one of the few places I could bring that up and know I wouldn’t be mocked for it. Same way he could wear pink tie-dye pajamas and not hear any shittalk from me. “I’ve learned things. Things you wouldn’t believe.”
“Come on. I’ll believe anything from you, Composer.”
“Then don’t say you weren’t warned.”
I let his shoulders alone, sliding my right hand up into his bubblegum-pink hair. Struck once again by how ridiculously soft it was. He seriously put time into it. I started off in the traditional method – just working the skin of the scalp, same way as the shoulders.
“Seriously?” he taunted. “I mean, sure, it’s good, but this is just level-one stuff. Even I could – “
That little devil took over, and I changed tactics, using the gentlest of pressures to scratch through his hair with my fingernails.
“…Now thaaaaat’s more like level three.”
“I finally get to spoil you for once,” I said cheekily.
“Well, outside of the general gratification that automatically comes with recruiting you as an independent-contractor minion.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Yeah, well, that’s our secret, remember?”
“What secret?”
“About me be – “ He got it then. “I mean. Yeah. Right. I didn’t say anything. You don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He then flinched and gave a light “Yeep!”. I’d changed tactics yet again – lightly grabbing the roots of his hair and giving a mild tug.
“Did that hurt?” I asked, a new wave of anxiety suddenly washing over me.
When he warbled “No,” I could hear that it wasn’t the tone of someone in pain – it was the tone of someone who wanted more of that. So I dealt more out, lightly pulling locks on the left, the right, near the front, near the back of his head.
“I really did underestimate you on this front,” he admitted. “You know now you have to do this more often.”
“You keep doing my shoulders and it’ll be an even trade.”
“This is actually…really, REALLY relaxing…I could almost just…”
It was gentle yet sudden, him falling back onto me, pinning me to the headboard. The back of his head was nestled onto my right shoulder, nuzzling close to my own face.
“What,” I teased, “you’re falling asleep already?”
He didn’t answer. Just snuggled a little closer back to me, like I was some sort of body pillow. That was when I realized he actually had fallen asleep on me – quite literally.
“Gio!” I hissed, poking his shoulder. “Giovanni! Wake up!” Though I didn’t say it quite as loud as I could have. “I can’t sleep pinned up like this!”
He wasn’t moving, sound asleep.
Great.
I contemplated just shifting his position, laying him down properly or just scooting out from behind him. However, that ran the risk of a rude awakening, and…I just couldn’t. He was twice as adorable asleep as usual, and considering that average, that’s a pretty amazing statistic.
So I decided to try and make the best of it. Sure, I was pinned up against the seat of a faux car, but I had once bragged that I could fall asleep anywhere. (The airplane proved me wrong when I had no idea how to recline the seat, of course. Not a good sign in this case.) I tossed my glasses lightly to the nightstand and shut my eyes, attempting to make myself comfortable pinned between a crime boss and a hard place.
Strangely enough, it eventually actually worked, somewhat. I could finally feel that state just before sleep when none of your thoughts seem to make sense, turning into a frieze of colors that make up surreal images as the opening act for dreams.
However, I was just awake enough to be aware of a few things, if not so much to respond to them. One was of a weight being lifted off my chest and shoulder. The sound of a soft curse. A pair of hands gently locking over my forearms, and suddenly, things weren’t so vertical and solid anymore – perpendicular, much softer. (The mattress. I figured that out the next morning when I woke up in the usual position.) A muttering of words that I’m pretty sure were “There we are…nice and cozy.” Then, eventually, the pressure of a second body beside mine, clinging on like I was a life raft in the sea of somnolence, the only thing keeping us both afloat in the dream-realm.
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- REFERENCE TO SEXUAL ACTIVITY SO WARNING IF NEEDED (NSFW MENTIONED) -
"You want me to—what?" Aurelia's mouth dropped open as she stared at the older Winchester in disbelief. "You're—You are not serious." She looked at Sam, pointing at Dean like he had finally snapped. "Sam, can you believe him?"
Sam shifted a bit but he didn't say anything, just glancing between the two of them. Aurelia forced a laugh. "You.. You're not agreeing with me—Sam! You both are ridiculous!"
Dean took a swig of his beer, watching her get as flustered as she was. "Come on, it won't even be that bad." He encouraged. "You've always said that you respect them because of their upper body strength and confidence level!" He tipped his beer towards her. "You are just stepping into their life for a night or two."
Aurelia covered her face with her hands. "Dean!" She groaned. "That never meant, not once, that I wanted to walk into a strip club and ask to get on stage and be a dancer!" She snapped. She could have grabbed his beer and poured it over his head. "Besides, they would definitely say no."
Sam gave her a look. "You, not to be weird, are attractive, and have a healthy body.. shape so I don't see a reason for the owner to reject you." He shifted uncomfortably, like he felt awkward for—
"Basically, you're hot." Dean chimed. "You could definitely work a crowd." He said.
Aurelia turned pink. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended." She huffed. She lifted her shirt, showing a faded scar down her side. "How about scars, you idiots. I don't think anyone wants a scarred up dancer shaking her ass in their face."
Dean opened his mouth to respond and she pointed at him. "You even think I'm wrong, I'm putting a bullet in your kneecap." Dean closed his mouth abruptly.
Sam put his hand on her side. "Listen, Auri, the only reason that we ask you is because we do know there's a nest at that club taking strippers—"
"Killing or turning them, I know." She groaned, dropping against the bed in annoyance. "But.. why can't we just be FBI and ask to speak with the staff?"
"You know this nest has moved three times already." Sam responded.
"If we even look like hunters, the pack will run and will leave a trail of bodies. If we get an insider?"
"We can kill them from the inside out, I know." Aurelia sighed. She put a pillow over her head to hide her embarrassment.
"However, if you really don't want to do this, we can try to find another way…" Sam sat back down at the table.
Aurelia was quiet for a long time, trying to come up with a better plan than the one they had. She couldn't. She sat up and threw the pillow against the wall, as if expelling her anger, embarrassment and annoyance. "Fuck."
"You nervous?" One of the other ladies, Emily, asked her. Emily was gorgeous, strongly built and the confidence level she gave off made Aurelia want to sink back into a hole. Emily was a natural ginger haired beauty, but Aurelia was somehow sure the green eyes were contacts. "I remember being shaken so bad my first time I got sick right before I had to go on."
Aurelia nodded, giving her an distressed smile. "I'm just… not used to this." She gestured to the outfit. It was theme night at the club on her first night. Emily was adorned in silk red outfit that showed all the best, with a black lace long dress cover that hide the "goods" as Emily put it. Aurelia's favorite? The devil horns and tail that was attached to her outfit.
Aurelia on the other hand was the exact opposites, dressed up in a one piece that thankfully covered her essentials, gold slivers woven beautifully in the costume. The white wings felt like the universe was making fun of her.
"Be glad they didn't immediately give you the heels, though." Emily hummed while sliding on her final coat of lip gloss. "One of our previous dancers said she knew how to dance in them, lied of course, and nearly broke her ankle on stage. Its important to stay safe while dancing." The red head nudged Aurelia. "Don't worry too much, hun. Just follow my lead and you'll do great! You only have to do one dance tonight then Mave is gonna put you on the floor to give out drinks and orders."
I don't know which is worse. Aurelia thought. She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in a deep breath. From an outside prospective, she probably looked amazing but she could see the peeks of her scars and her odd tan lines. She started to pick apart her confidence little by little before Emily slammed her hands on the sides of Aurelia's shoulders.
"Stop stressing, hun. You're the sexiest girl here." She winked. She started leaving the room. "I'll meet you outside for our dance in five." With a soft click, Emily shut the door behind her.
Aurelia raced for her phone, dialing Dean immediately. When he picked up, she didn't even let him greet the call: "I can't do this!" She panicked.
Dean hushed her. "Sweet heart, you got this. It's one night." He tried to reason.
"I don't know anything about this, Dean!" She whined. "I know nothing about dancing sexy or acting sexy or just anything remotely attractive—"
She heard Dean move to cover the mic. "I knew she would flip." She heard him say to Sam. "Okay, sweet heart, in your bag, I put a small earphone. Remember how I helped Charlie when she worked for Dick?" Aurelia nodded, trying to control her breathing. "You're lucky I know you just nodded. I slipped one the same speaker in your bag. Put it in, and I'll walk you through the dance."
Aurelia dug through her bag. "Oh, so you've been a stripper before, Dean?" It was a sad attempt but she honestly didn't know what else to say or do.
She heard him laugh. "No, of course not. But I've seen plenty." She slipped the speaker in her ear, covering it with her hair. She set the phone down.
"Can you hear me?" Dean's voice resonated through her eardrums. She felt oddly calm because of it.
"I can." She responded. She hung up the phone. "What do I do?"
"Get out there because you're about to be next. I'll help you through this. It's me and you, hun. Just focus on me."
When Aurelia got out on the stage with Emily, the light was almost blinding. She could barely see the crowd but she could feel the eyes, waiting for the two of them. Emily took a bow, slowly and precise, smirking at the crowd like she was born to this. Aurelia tried her best to copy it.
"Relax your face." Aurelia almost flinched, not expecting Dean's voice. "Give us a.. almost sleepy smile." Aurelia did as told. "Much better… Now, you use your hand, trail it down your leg as you bow—yeah, like that."
Emily smiled at the crowd, getting into a pose next to Aurelia. "We've practiced this, Angel." She purred into Aurelia's ear. "Just do the routine, and feel the beat."
She could hear Dean chuckle. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
From the moment the song blasted through the club, she moved in time with Emily as best as she could. She would hear Dean every once and a while say a comment to arch her back a bit, or spread her legs a bit more to make the move more natural. Despite the entire situation, she felt almost full of thrill and Dean's coaching wasn't too bad either. When the song had stopped, she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, heat from the lights and from the rapid bodywork.
"You're glowing, sweet cheeks." Aurelia sent a glare in what she assumed to be his direction. "Hey, if you're gonna glare, be seductive about it. Don't want to break your cover." He snickered into the mic.
I'm really going to shoot him in the kneecap.
Later, she stopped by their table, handing Dean and Sam their drinks. Dean snickered as she got closer. "My angel." He purred towards her, grabbing his beer and popping off the top.
"I will hurt you." She replied without missing a beat.
"I mean, what luck that you're first night is Devils and Angel's night?" Dean teased.
Aurelia gripped her tray. "I will smack you as soon as this job is finished, Winchester. I swear on it." She promised, eyes deadly serious. However, she couldn't deny in the back of her head she liked how his eyes drifted across her like it had. When she had been dancing, the thought that he was watching so closely made her feel like she was on fire for some reason.
Sam was the opposite, he kept only looking at her face, making sure not to drift elsewhere. "If you two are done flirting," he cleared his throat. "Case?"
Aurelia nodded, glancing back at Mave. "Mave is the owner and… he caters very well to new staff." She muttered. "Hes only been owner for two weeks, new promotion when the other manager quit suddenly." She whispered. The boys drifted their eyes towards them. "Emily said that she's been working at the club for years and when Mave became owner, things started going to shit. Pay cuts, abusive treatment, and 'uncomfortable treatment's'." She put the tray underneath her arm, leaning across the table like she was sweet talking the two. "She said he's tried to get her a 'promotion' several times but she keeps refusing because a promotion would ruin her day schedule with her kid." She relayed. "He wasn't happy the last time she said no."
Sam looked away from the owner when he looked up, glancing around the club. "So he must be the best leader. Any idea on the rest?" He inquired.
"Still working on it but I've got some ideas." She replied. Suddenly there was a sharp sting against her ass and Aurelia stood up abruptly, spinning around.
"Come on, fan favorite. You've got more drinks to serve, hun." She wrapped her arm around Aurelia's waist. "If you'll excuse us." With that, The devil dragged away the angel.
Dean took a swig of his beer, watching the two basically strutting away. "Best decision we've made."
Sam threw one of Dean's fries at him. "Dude, gross. You're drooling."
Later on when the club was shutting down, she saw Marv get pulled the dancers to the back. He handed out what they had made, Aurelia being pleasantly surprised on the amount of tips that were given towards her. She pocketed the cash, finally glad to be in normal clothes once more. He also chose a selective few dancers to the take to the back. On her way out, she watched Mave close the door when two other bouncers had snuck in as well. Aurelia gripped the blade. She spoke into the earpiece. "Dean?"
"You got sight?" He asked.
She didn't answer at first, just watched through the blinds of the office. Until one of the bouncers moved in front of the window, gave her a grin and she could see it. A second row of pointed teeth.
She slid her blade out, heading towards the office on the other side of the club. "I got teeth, hurry up." She hissed.
"Don't go in there alone!" Dean yelled. She could hear them both scrambling out the car. "Wait for us."
"I can't just wait, Dean—" She answered, about to break into the door to the office. A voice cut her off.
"Pretty angel, you're supposed to be gone." Aurelia's blood ran cold. She spun around to face Emily. The red head was smiling, a second set of teeth glinting from the few lights in the club. "Newbies are really supposed to leave when we close, not snoop." She crossed her arms. "And carry around big scary blades like that, too."
Aurelia spun it, moving away from the door, figuring it was best to only take on the one vamp versus altering all of them and then have all on her ass. "I get curious." She spat. "You can't really trust anyone these days."
"Especially hunters." Emily stepped forward. "That's why when you started asking all those questions? I really had to give you a better target, Mave instead of me." Her body language changed, like she was about to pounce on prey.
Emily then launched forward, going to do an upper cut to Aurelia's jaw. The blonde blocked the strike, kicking the vamp in the stomach to knock her back. With Emily preoccupied, Aurelia swung her blade as hard as she could, decapitating the monster. As the head rolled off, she noticed Sam and Dean had just burst through the door.
Aurelia flicked her blade. "You're late." She mumbled. The door behind her burst open and Mave and the two bouncers raced out, all of them going for one of the hunters. The girls inside her unconscious, blood coming out of them. Dead, or turned. Aurelia couldn't tell.
After a brief struggle of Aurelia nearly being strangled to death, the three had killed the nest and ran to the girls. Two were dead, one turned. Thankfully, after waiting for the girl to gain consciousness, she admitted she refused to feed. They were able to cure her.
On the way home to the bunker, Dean turned down the music. "So, Auri, how was it?" He asked.
Aurelia tilt her head back and groaned. "How many times are you going to ask me how it was back stage?" She complained. "It was overwhelming!" She answered. "I danced, I probably looked like an awkward chicken with puppet strings when I did and we killed the monsters! End of story." She huffed. Sam let out a snicker.
Dean held up a finger. "For the record, you're performance? Was the absolute opposite of what… whatever you just described." He told her. His eyes locked with hers and an emotion she rarely seen directed at her swirled around in his eyes. His pupils were a bit large and the color was dark. Goosebumps rose to her skin at the look. "You looked phenomenal." He finished.
Aurelia managed to tear her eyes away from him, shifting a bit in the seat to calm her now scorching body temperature.
"Once again, can you two stop flirting?" Sam asked, looking at the two. Dean smirked as he turned up the music, ACDC blasting throughout the car as his answer. His eyes locked with hers again.
I'm never going to live this down.
#picture for reference#supernatural#supernatural roleplay#supernatural rp oc#supernatural rp#oc#rp oc#my oc#original character#about#past memories#background#info#short#memories#my writing#writing#shorts
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Baby? (Pilot)
Summary: Sam and Dean find out that the Impala isn't how they left it. What the hell happened??
Warnings: (i rushed so it's pretty sloppy ma bad) confused baby dean uwu, skeptical and sassy Sam, cussing, HUMAN!IMPALA (i think that's it?¿)
Word count: +1300 idk
i hope you like it (i named it pilot bc this might flop lol love that for me)
Sam and Dean were on a case. They were posing as feds to find clues to a teenage girls death outside of the town. All signs pointed to vamps. They wanted to gonna go get some grub after talking it out with the parents.
"I don't know Dean, this isn't tying together so well, maybe we skipped something?" Sam called after his older brother.
They were heading back to the alley where they parked Baby, Dean was nodding back to Sam while he jabbered on, pretending to care when he actually wanted to bounce this place and get some food.
Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and turned the corner where they parked the Impala. Where it should be parked.
Dean's pulse quickened. Sam sensed his fear and anger from five feet away.
"Where the hell is my car!" Sam winced, "Deep breaths Dean." Dean whipped around his face pale from being on the edge of passing out, "Shut up Sam!"
A figure rose from behind the dumpster. It was a woman. Her dark skin was bare, she didn't have any clothes on her, Dean spun around on his heels to look away from her naked figure Sam spoke up to her,
"Woah miss you should be-" his voice faded in pure awe.
Dean felt arms wrap around his waist, he lifted his arms and curled his lip in disgust flailing his arms around, "Off, off, off!"
Please help me Dean." He looked back down at her, her golden eyes glaring back at him, they looked familiar but he couldn't place it.
He realized she knew his name. He didn't tell anyone in town his name, he was posing as a federal agent and should be addressed as Agent Morris.
Dean put his hand over where his gun was tucked in his belt, Sam did the same when Dean flickered his uneasy gaze to him.
"How do you know my name?"
The woman's eyebrows furrowed, "You won't believe me, you hunt weird shit like me, but Dean-" Her words were cut off and the wind was knocked out of her lungs as he rammed her into the brick wall, he checked her mouth for any signs of her being a vamp before snarling at her,
"Who the hell are you! How do you know who I am and what I do?" His voice rose and he had his gun out pressing the cold steel to her temple.
The woman didn't flinch she reached into his soul through his eyes with her fiery gaze taking him aback and took the opportunity to shove Dean off of herself and grab a rusty bar that lay next to her.
"I'm your car Dean! I'm Baby! I woke up here and I have legs, I have fucking legs!" Dean stepped off and looked at her chest, his and Sam's initials were carved into it, deep scars. "Bullshit!" Dean said harsher, he disarmed her and thrusted her body into the wall again.
"Baby?" Sam said with a tang of sass. Baby turned to look at him, "Yes!" she brought her arms up in submission "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Dean glared at her, observing her markings. She showed him the white devil's trap tattoo that was just above her back dimples like the one that was in the trunk, the scars from every crash she endured, mostly on her back and face.
Everything.
Dean's car was human. Why? Who the hell knows.
Sam was the one to break the silence, "Well if you're Baby then where are all the weapons?" She looked at him with a raised brow and then caught onto what he was saying. taking their hands and leading them to where she was hiding earlier.
Behind the dumpster was the mass of guns, holy water, rosaries, knives, machetes, ammunition, and of course, grenade launcher. The duffel bags, cassettes, beer cooler, cases, cellphones, and wads of cash were there too.
Sam stepped closer to her his hazel eyes burning holes into her, "Alright then tell us something only our car would know."
Baby cackled, "I know how much people you slept with in my backseat, that you put legos into my vents, the army men, the amount of heads you've stored in the cooler that was in my backseat, the bodies you stored in the trunk."
She chuckled before the next confession, "When you kidnapped Crowley and put him in the trunk he would hum "Sweet Caroline" to himself. Good times."
She looked at Dean with an evil smirk, "Oh and that you and Cas-" Dean intervened , "OKAAY that'll do." Sam shrugged and pulled Dean to the side, "I mean I believe her."
Dean squinted at him, "What part made you believe her?" Sam raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, looking at Dean. Dean caught on, "Shut up bitch."
Sam and Dean turned back to Baby, "Okay, we believe you, but try anything we will kill you," Baby smiled
"But before we go anywhere you will put on some clothes." Dean waved his finger at her like a scolding parent,
Baby cringed not liking that tone one bit, "Thanks?"
Baby continued to put on one of Sam's red flannel shirts and jeans, they were long, she cut the pant cuffs with a machete and fixed the pants to fit her hips with one if their belts. She took Dean's combat boots and socks and slipped them on.
She walked from behind the dumpster and did a little strut. "Eh? I look good." Sam giggled, "You look like me."
She fumed, "And I still look like a better lumberjack, shut your hole."
Sam, Dean, and Baby rented a car for the time being, considering their main ride had it's own two legs.
The three got back to the motel after getting some food. Baby likes cheeseburgers and fries, a lot. Dean insisted it be her first real meal.
"I love food." She said through a mouthful, the flannel sleeves sunk to her elbows when her hands were angled up because the shirt was so big. "We'll have to go find you some clothes soon." Sam observed her after taking a swig of his beer. Pretty soon Baby would want to try some beer too.
Baby was a fine looking as a human just as she was when she was a car. A few scars, sigil tattoos here and there, but she had the same golden eyes the car's headlights had, dark skin with barely visible freckles and short, dark afro that pulled her little 60s look together.
She had an hourglass figure which was hidden by Sam's clothes, she was about 5'7 and quite muscular, not to mention resourceful.
Even still, she looked as if she just came back from the 60s, it was strange; and they hunt monsters for a living.
"So what now?" Baby leaned into Sam to get his attention away from the computer. Sam looked at Dean, his eye brows furrowed, "Should we let her take this case with us?"
Baby looked at Sam, her gold eyes narrowing questioningly then flickering it over to Dean, curling her lips in a smile and winking, "I think you know the answer Dean-o." Dean looked up at her and chuckled, "Hell no."
Her face got a sarcastic look, "Too bad grasshopper, I'm tagging along. I tag along when I'm a car don't I?"
Dean gave her the Winchester bitch-face, "It's different now, I don't think you even know how limbs work."
Baby frowned, "You'll teach me then, or Sam will." Dean got tired of her stubborn determination, "Fine."
Baby smiled satisfied. "We'll leave in the morning then, get some clothes for Baby, teach her how to use her limbs and then continue on our way it's getting late anyway." Dean announced.
They went to bed early, around 12, Dean didn't sleep much. How could he? His car was asleep in the same bed as him. This job couldn't possibly get any weirder.
Could it?
#human!impala#sam winchester#dean winchester#baby#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#confused#spn fic#spnfandom#spn fanfic#spn fandom#spn family#family#cars#castiel#misha collins#jensen and misha#vampire#hunter
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Be Somebody
It’s Spooky Day.
The ceremonial markings are prepared. The crimson candles cast a dull and sinister light over the chamber, as the stomping and chanting of the hooded figures grows faster. They chant in an old, almost forgotten tongue, begging the forces of all that is foul and unholy for their profane blessing. As the thumping of feet grows faster, as the voices of the cultists grow to a scream, a burst of flame materializes in the center of the circle, burning blindingly bright for only a second, before a horned figure takes its place.
One of the cultists, presumably the leader, speaks. “Candeus! Great Duke of Hell, Seer of Past, Present and Future, Procurer of Treasures Both Carnal and Shining Gold, we have summoned thee!”
The devil pauses to think. No doubt the words from its mouth would form a baleful new verse for its worshippers –
“What.”
The atmosphere of the room, the triumph and anticipation, falters for just a moment. Luckily the hoods hide their identity, and by extension their facial expressions. The leader, to his credit, doesn’t seem fazed.
“We ask you for a boon, O Illustrious Duke! We seek your aid in making our fortune!”
A second stanza. “What the fuck.”
“We call upon your power! Grant your conjurers a precious, glittering boon!”
“What the fuck is going on?” And thus, the prayer was complete. “I’m not Duke! Is-is this some sort of prank? An elaborate attempt at blackmail? Are you seriously asking me for cash?!”
The leader turns to his compatriots, who shrug. “I… yes?”
“You’re a demon,” one of the other cultists pipes up, “you can do that, right?”
“We did the sacrifice and everything,” says another.
“You what?” The demon looks down at the bloody markings on the floor, meant to bind it in place, then behind it. “Oh, shit. Oh. Oh my God. What the – Jesus Christ…”
“I thought I did a pretty good job with the seal,” mutters the leader. The other figures nod or murmur in agreement. One pats him on the back.
The demon slowly turns back, surveying the cult with horror and disgust. “You know what? Fine. Fucking… whatever.” It snaps its fingers. “Bam. You all got a billion dollars in your bank accounts, go build a casino or some shit. I’m leaving.”
“Well, uh, we have to properly unbind you and unsummon you first -”
“Nope. Not doing that. Fuckity-bye, freaks.”
And the demon walks out of both the circle and the chamber, unknowing or uncaring of the panicked cries of ‘it shouldn’t be able to do that’ that follow it.
-
The Sherwood Cemetery has its gates locked. Usually, the council doesn’t bother. However, on Halloween night, they’ve found paying for a cheap lock and chain saves them hundreds in cleaning off graffiti, eggs and other fluids from the grave markers and tombs.
Not that it matters. One kick from a cloven hoof, and the gates swing open in a crash of metal on stone.
“Veronica Sawyer!”
The humanoid figure saunters down the lines of graves. Curved horns protrude from its forehead. A pointed tail lashes from side to side. Its eyes are alight with hellfire, glowing in the darkness of the night.
“It’s time for you to face the music,” the demon continues. “It was your idea for all of us to dress up. It was your idea to buy a pair of devil horns. It was your idea to put them on my head after I repeatedly told you I wasn’t wearing a costume! I remember what you were, and if I’m right, which I usually am, you’re here! Come and see what you’ve done!”
An awful grinding, screeching noise echoes from further away. The demon frowns, and sets off in search of the source.
It’s not hard to find; Sherwood isn’t a big enough town for its cemetery to have many tombs. This one has a door of bronze, turned green by time and neglect. The decorations carved into the stone had also been worn away – the proud lions, once regal and intimidating, were nothing more than vaguely cat-shaped mounds on the sides of the vault.
The door is currently being destroyed. A whimpering emanates from inside the tomb, as gnarled fingers pull at the metal gate. It crumples like cardboard, eventually falling off its hinges as the only moving inhabitant stumbles out.
She’s grey, both with fright and from a lack of a pulse. There’s stitches and sutures everywhere, holding her together, like she’d been the victim of every slasher movie villain ever conceived. Clouded, glassy eyes land on her observer, and she straightens, clearing her throat.
“There are dead bodies in there,” she mumbles, gesturing toward the tomb.
“That’s where they’re supposed to be,” the demon replies, arms crossed. “Speaking of dead people, explain what’s going on or I throw you back in.”
The corpse blinks. “…Heather?”
“No shit, Sherlock. You should know. You’re the one who did this to me.”
“I’m the one who did this to…” Any confusion quickly turns to righteous indignation. “I put a pair of plastic horns on your head. I expected to you to sulk for a while, maybe, definitely not this!”
“Well, if you hadn’t insisted on playing dress-ups -”
“It’s Halloween, Heather! You wear a costume, you get candy, it’s entertainment for all ages! It’s not like I forced Heather to hand-sew that sweet witch outfit! I didn’t pick out Heather’s cat ears against her will!”
“We’re not twelve!” Heather snaps back, “Imagine what everyone would’ve thought if we showed up to the party in costume. It’s childish!”
“It’s fun! I know you know how to have fun, Heather Chandler, and I don’t mean by fucking over someone else. We’re not even eighteen yet. Why do you have to act like every social event is a life-or-death situation?”
Heather is about to reply, when Veronica’s face is suddenly illuminated by light. Any righteousness left on Veronica’s face is once again replaced by a mask of fear.
“Hello, officer,” she croaks.
Heather dares to look over her shoulder. The cop, who looks pale even for someone bathed in moonlight, has one hand on his torch and the other on his holster. He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a choking noise.
“We apologize for the disturbance,” Heather adds, with just a hint of anxiety. “We were just leaving.”
The cop’s countenance contorts further at the sound of her voice, but he manages to get out, “I feel like you shouldn’t.”
“With all due respect, officer, I think the laws of God are out of your jurisdiction.”
The officer puffs up his chest for a moment, and manages to get out half of the word ‘trespass’ before his confidence quickly fades. His eyes flicker to the corpse, to the demon, to his own gun. After a moment’s thought, he shakes his head.
“Let me…” he swallows. “Let me escort you out, then.”
“I’m happy with that. Well? Lead the way, officer.”
“…You go first.”
-
The door closes gently, and two figures trot down the front steps and onto the sidewalk of a quiet street. The first, not quite four feet tall, brushes down her costume with a reverence that a felt pumpkin outfit does not often receive. Her expression, one of excitement and gratitude, quickly morphs into a pout. The second, much taller and with a short yet carefully coiffed hairdo, bends down to examine the contents of the girl’s matching basket.
“That’s mine,” she whines.
“You heard Mom. I have to check your candy hasn’t been tampered with.”
“That was Mrs. Applegate! She teaches kindergarten!”
“You can never be too careful,” the boy replies.
The girl stomps her feet. “Peterrrr, we’re wasting time! You can check later!”
“I don’t understand why people don’t hand out more chocolate bars. The wrappers are much safer, you can tell if someone’s messed with them. She gave you an apple, honestly, what was she thinking? Do you know how many razors you could stick in there? If she wanted to do something nice, she’d give you some money to donate to a charity of your choice.” he pauses in his rambling, then looks up. “You haven’t complained in almost twenty seconds. What’s wrong?”
The girl’s face is a perfect mixture of indescribable terror and reverential awe as she points. “Look at their costumes!”
Peter looks up, his gaze following the finger. There’s a zombie and a demon, just visible behind the bushes, strolling along and exchanging quiet, heated words.
Peter frowns, then calls out - “Veronica?”
The zombie’s head snaps up, dead eyes wide as saucers. The demon looks at her, and the smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she disappears into the thicket of foliage.
“It is you,” Peter approaches, one hand holding his sister back, “isn’t it, Veronica?”
“Yep. This is me. In costume. And makeup, lots of makeup.” A pause. “It’s Halloween.”
“Sure is. What are you doing back there?”
“Looking for someone.”
“Ask her about her costume,” the girl whispers in her brother’s ear.
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute. Who are you looking for? The devil girl?”
Veronica scowls. “Well, yeah, it’d be nice if she stuck around…” She takes a deep, steadying breath. “But I’m looking for Heather. Duke. We took separate cars, and we can’t find her. You know of any bonfires, or big lakes, or… uh, lynch mobs close by?”
“...I’m sorry, what was that last part?”
“Ask about her costume!”
“She’s dressed as a witch, just wanna cover all areas,” Veronica says quickly.
“No,” the little girl says, butting her way into the conversation with confidence she shouldn’t have, “we’re talking about your costume. How’d you do it?”
Veronica doesn’t answer immediately. She just stares, thrown off, before she points at her eyes. “Contacts.” Her ragged clothes. “Old hand-me-downs.” Her forearm, apparently sewn on with what appears to be exposed bone. “Prosthetics and makeup.”
“She doesn’t know what the word ‘prosthetic’ means.”
“Uh... Fake stuff? Yeah, that’s probably right. It’s fake, zombies aren’t real.”
This isn’t the answer the little girl was hoping for, if the scowl is any sign. She marches up to the zombie and yanks at her wrist, sticking her face so close her nose is almost touching the skin.
“Mary!”
Peter picks up his sister, much to her displeasure - “I wanna see what to do for next year!” Veronica just stands there, stunned, holding onto her arm like it’ll fall off if she lets go.
“I’m so sorry,” Peter babbles, “I didn’t know she was actually gonna grab you. She didn’t ruin your costume, did she? You said it was makeup.”
“Uh, well, I might need a touch-up. Back to my question-”
“No lynch mobs that I know of, but there’ll probably be a lot of bonfires tonight. Try Remington.”
“...Okay. Thanks.”
Peter gives a sheepish smile, and Veronica watches as he wrangles his screaming sister back to the sidewalk.
When they’re far enough away, the demon reappears, sporting a smug, fang-filled grin.
“Still having a good time?”
“Shut up, Heather. I’d be totally fine with her checking out my costume if it was just a costume.”
Heather crosses her arms, incredulous. “You’d seriously be okay with her putting her snotty little hands all over your outfit?”
“Look,” Veronica huffs, spreading her arms wide -
And the limb the girl had pulled drops, dangling, held onto Veronica’s body by a few loose threads.
“Wow!” Heather exclaims, her voice and her smile now filled with fake enthusiasm, “That’s something I really wanted to see tonight - the inside of my friend’s arm! Halloween sure is fun!”
“...We need to find Heather.”
-There’s a bare patch of grass behind the Chi Zeta Gamma fraternity house. At least, there was grass there at some point in the past - while it made a few pathetic efforts to grow back over the summer, parties and hazing and bonfires pulverized it time and time again. Now, it was packed-in, bone-dry dirt.
And, just for tonight, a pile of wood and leaves, surrounded by hollering, staggering young men.
Two girls stand off to one side, inappropriately dressed for the cooling weather. One’s gaze is hard, cynical, while the other’s eyes were wide, either with surprise or fear. Their attention is focused on the gathering.
“They’ve done a better job than last year,” one says.
The other tears her eyes away. “On what?”
“I guess since the party’s on Halloween, they have to make it different. I remember a couple of them asking me where to buy needles after I refused to make it myself. I mean, I know why they asked, but I dunno where they’re sold. Never needed to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sewing’s for girls, remember?”
The younger one considers this, then points to the thing propped up on the pyre. “So, they got someone to make that for them?”
“Maybe. Last year it was just a bunch of sackcloth and a dollar store hat. At least now it’s human-shaped.” The older one squints. “...Yeah. I don’t think they made that. Looks too good for a bunch of dude-bros with masculinity so fragile you could break it by talking too loud.”
“Shit.”
Both women whip around, shoulders tense, which does not ease when they see no sign of the speaker.
“Maybe we should go back to the sorority house,” the younger quavers.
“Sisters stick together,” the older replies automatically, but her voice is filling with worry. She pauses to think. “I’ll tell them you’re feeling sick, and that I’m taking you back. Wait for me.”
“Fine... fine.”
The younger is already halfway back to the house before the older manages to make her excuses.
All the leaves and garbage in the general vicinity has been piled on top of the wood, and some of the ample supply of alcohol was poured out in memory of the frat house’s missing members (who weren’t dead, just suspended).
“A torch!” one cries, “It’s a witch-burning, we gotta have a torch!”
To general cheering and whooping, he takes a large enough piece of wood and ties his alcohol-soaked shirt to one end. He grins as he looks up at the fake witch they’d made, clad in a cheap black dress and hat, tied to one particularly large piece of wood. For a moment, there is conflict in his drunken mind - it looked good, but he can’t be proud of his part in that.
“A lighter!”
One bounces off his head, to a mismatched chorus of guffaws, and he laughs along as he picks it up. The little flame is lit, he pulls it closer to his makeshift torch -
Someone grabs onto the back of his head. It isn’t the ruffle of hair he might have expected - the hand does not move, does not let go. It squeezes, just slightly.
The babble of the crowd dies. In the distance, he hears a female voice say “Now what?”
All hell breaks loose around him.
“What the fuuuuuuuuck!”
“No no no no no no no, too spooky!”
“It’s a hand, dude! A hand!”
“Whose hand?” The fraternity member looks this way and that, sees his bros running from him, tripping over each other in their panic, but the pressure on the back of his head remains the same.
One of the few who remained behind screams, “I dunno! It doesn’t have a body!”
The former firelighter takes a moment to process this, then he starts screaming, too, as his friend gets behind him and pulls. There’s a tearing sound, the hand drops, and the few remaining partygoers flee the scene.
After a moment of blessed quiet, out steps a corpse. Her demonic companion follows
“Oh, wow,” Veronica mutters, picking up her detached forearm, placing it under the arm that’s still there, then picking up the hand. “Now I’m disarmed and...” she pauses, contemplating, “...unhanded. They’ve unhanded me, Heather. Do you get it?”
Chandler ignores her, clambering up what would have been a bonfire to examine the figure on top. After a quick patdown, she rips off the dummy’s sackcloth head.
Underneath is a girl, already on the edge of hyperventilating, now staring at her dubious saviour with her eyes almost bulging out of her sockets.
“Hey, Heather.”
The captive gapes wordlessly, before deciding on, “Hey.”
“Now, before you ask, no, I didn’t try to kill you. Nor did Veronica. We don’t know who put you here, actually, if your experience was anything like mine. One minute you’re all laughing at some dumb joke Veronica made, the next there are a bunch of satanists asking me for money.” Silence. “Side note, I may have busted the economy.”
“Okay. There’s a lot to take in, there, but - how are you getting your voice to do that?” Duke asks.
“It just does, now. I blame Veronica.”
Veronica uses her severed hand to wave. Duke makes a strangled noise in response.
Chandler presses on. “The more important thing is you can fix it. You dressed as a witch, and since Veronica can pull down an inch-thick metal door with no problems, you can probably cast a spell and make it so this never happened.”
“Maybe that’s why everything’s falling off now,” Veronica mutters to herself.
“What about Heather? I don’t see her with you.”
“We’ll get to her - wait.” Chandler turns to Veronica. “She was dressed as a cat. Would she be a regular cat, or, like, a cat-person?”
“What, like a furry?”
The demon gives her a glare that would reduce any lesser being to ash. Veronica, no lesser being, just shuffles awkwardly.
Duke gives a long-suffering sigh. “Just... untie me. Please. Get Heather, and I’ll see what I can do.”
-
It’s late. The sun is well below the horizon now, but the lights at the ‘Paws for Thought’ Animal Shelter are still shining on. A large sign is taped to the glass door - No Adoptions Today.
A woman, middle-aged and dumpy, the sort of person who looks like they were born to be that way, totters around the reception. She checks every door, examines every kitschy poster, straightens every decade-old magazine on every end table. She nods, satisfied with a job that didn’t need to be done, and takes out her keyring, so full of keys that it could be used as some sort of weapon.
Then, she stops. She seizes, as if her whole body were flinching.
“Ugh,” she says, “this is - I don’t like this.”
She snaps the lock on the front door, sticking her head out.
“Coast is clear. C’mon.”
Two young women enter, exposed under the sterile, flourescent lights. One is dressed in sackcloth, the other has an arm sewn on with some sort of twine.
“I remember this place,” Veronica says, “this is where I got JFK. Geez, still smells the same as it used to.”
“Why did you name your cat after a dead president, anyway?” Duke inquires.
“I didn’t. It stands for Jumpy Furry Kitty. I was seven when I got him, so I wasn’t too great with names.”
“That’s... kinda sweet.”
“That’s not the cat we’re here for,” says the woman, in a harsher tone than she’s probably ever used in her life. “I have about the same amount of keys as the jailors at San Quentin must have. Help me figure out which one opens the door. I don’t wanna be wearing this hag like a skin-suit any longer than I have to.”
“Don’t call her a hag,” chides Veronica, “she’s probably doing her best.”
“I’m a demon, Veronica. I don’t have to be nice.”
It takes them a good five minutes to find which of them opens the door. The woman fumbles for the light switch, and with the buzz of the lights comes a rising chorus of meows.
“We’re looking for a blonde cat,” the woman says, “or a black one. Or a blonde one with black ears. Or, we’re looking in the wrong place entirely, and Heather’s lost in an alley somewhere.”
“Or she’s a furry.”
“NO.”
“I’m a witch,” Duke offers. “Maybe I can... fortune-tell my way into finding the right one.”
Veronica grins. “You’re a witch - does this mean Heather’s your familiar?”
Duke blushes. The woman currently possessed by Chandler snorts.
“I mean, that wasn’t the idea when we - never mind.” Duke straightens, speaks as if she were giving a speech. “If you’re Heather McNamara, can you meow for me?”
The meowing had never ceased.
“Stick your right front paw out of the cage if you’re Heather McNamara,” Veronica calls over the caterwauling.
There are already a number of cats doing just that, hoping to gain some food or attention. Some are angling for both.
“This isn’t gonna work,” Chandler grumbles through someone else’s voice, “just to your little ritual thing here, Heather. If one of these cats is Heather, we’ll find out.”
Veronica’s brow creases. “These cages are tiny. What happens if she’s in one, and she becomes a person again? She’d be crushed.”
“Okay. Let out all the cats. See how that goes for you. You know cats eat corpses like you, right?”
“Hello, Heather!”
All three intruders freeze. The voice is from behind them, and their eyes say they recognize it.
“Hey, Heather,” Duke quavers.
“I saw you going in,” McNamara says from behind them, “you were looking for me, right?”
“Well, of course. We were worried about you.”
“Been a weird night, huh? Like, we were laughing about how much Heather’s devil horns fit her, then I’m in an alleyway.”
“That sounds about right,” Chandler croaks.
“Anyway, I’m fine. I’ve had a lot of fun. Kids love me, they keep petting me when they see me.”
Veronica finally speaks up. “Heather?”
“Hmm?”
“How many legs are you standing on right now?”
“Two, of course. Why?”
The other three share a look, and once again Chandler is trying to kill Veronica with her eyes. Veronica, taking this as a sign, turns.
There’s a regular-sized cat behind them, standing on its hind legs like a meerkat. It blinks up at them with big yellow eyes.
“I can’t decide whether or not this is worse,” says Veronica.
-
A big stone slab stands before the four. A long time ago, the indents and worn-down carvings might have meant something - now they were given use again.
A chalk circle has been drawn, gibberish markings adorning its edges. In the center, there are four small candles, pink and blue, the sort you’d see on a birthday cake and not for use in some dark ritual.
Witches make do.
Duke admires her handiwork, then turns to her friends. “Who wants to start the chant?”
No answer. Chandler idly scratches McNamara’s head.
“None of us know the words,” Veronica volunteers.
“I don’t know them, either. Let me try - what was the Latin? Quaeso ut mihi: in domum suam.”
“Sounds ominous,” Chandler hums, “let’s do it. Heather. Veronica.”
A chant starts up. McNamara trips over her own tongue, but manages to bluff her way along.
A wind begins to blow. Barely a breeze at first, it builds as the girls raise their voices to compete. The flames on the candles change in a whirl of color - red, blue, green, yellow - almost horizontal in the gale forming around them.
Chandler pauses, then checks behind her. through the dust and leaves, she sees figures.
Hooded.
“Contain the Duke!”
“Ah, fuck.”
While Duke and McNamara keep chanting, Duke out of commitment and McNamara from ignorance, more faces end up appearing around their circle - two officers in uniform, a bunch of young men, the plump woman with her ring of keys and a face full of fear. Some try to reach them, but their bodies are tossed back by the wall of force.
“Keep going,” Veronica urges. Chandler pauses, then starts up her chant again.
“Get the zombie! I know that hand!”
“You’re under arrest for trespass and the destruction of public property, come quietly-”
“No, we gotta beat up the zombie first. It ruined our party!”
“Gentlemen, this is a police matter-”
“No one can know what we’ve done - Father Ripper can’t know about this!”
“What did you do?”
“We had a good time -”
“Officer, I’ve been possessed, how do I file charges against -”
The wind ceases. The four are gone, and those that followed are left, empty-handed, in the middle of a forest.
-
10:49.
Chandler stares at the clock, as if willing it to be wrong. No-one else is with her; there’s nothing but the plastic headband and the difference in time to tell her that anything at all happened.
Duke looks down at her costume, exquisitely hand-sewn, sequined and untouched after tonight’s events. She hangs it up in her closet - maybe Heather will let her wear it next year.
McNamara makes use of her newly-restored opposable thumbs to ring as many people as she could. She had an amazing night, and everyone needs to know about it.
Veronica checks her pulse, her limbs, her face in the mirror. JFK saunters in, she scratches her old friend under the chin.
Martha Dunnstock sleeps peacefully, the leather-bound book resting on her bedside table.
It was a fun idea for Halloween. A shame spells weren’t real.
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Empty Corridors
It’s @wipweek and it’s AU WIP day, and so I’m posting the first chapter (3,717 words) of my new Golden Lace fic (Once Upon a Time). The fic will be rated E eventually, but I’d say it’s currently T-M due to some of the themes. The title is from a Ben Howard song of the same name, which I was listening to tonight and which completely fits the vibe of this story. I can see myself getting very frustrated with these two.
AO3 link
Lacey French bent a little lower over the pool table, huffing a strand of chestnut hair out of her eyes as she lined up her shot, one final red ball remaining on the table against her opponent’s three. She had missed the last shot, and she was blaming hunger for her lack of focus. It was way past lunchtime, and she hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast either, unless coffee and Oreos counted. Drinking shots and playing pool probably wasn’t the best use of her afternoon, but then time had no meaning in The Rabbit Hole, so she figured she may as well try to lift the boredom of living in Storybrooke in one of the few ways she knew. The bar itself was windowless and dimly-lit, an underground pit reeking of stale beer, cheap body spray and desperation. Her shoes were sticking to the floor as she moved, and she wrinkled her nose, looking along the shining length of the cue.
“A little lower, sweet cheeks!”
Lacey looked over her shoulder, scowling, and a dark-haired man raised his beer glass, winking at her. Keith Nott was a lech, if a good-looking one. She had kissed him once, but he was too creepy for her to want to take it beyond that. Besides, he was the type to tell the entire bar exactly how far he got with a woman, and she had no desire to have her skills discussed by his drunken friends. Keith put his head to the side, miming lifting a skirt, and she curled her lip.
“In your dreams!” she said witheringly, and he scowled.
“Don’t be such an uptight bitch, I’m only playing around.”
“Yeah, well I’m not.”
She turned back to her shot, eyeing Tom Clark and hoping he wouldn’t sneeze at a critical moment. He was watching her nervously, twisting his own pool cue in his hands. A pile of dollar bills sat on the edge of the table, weighted down with the chalk. Twenty bucks to the winner. She needed to take this game if she was to stand any chance of making rent. Okay, she needed to win about a dozen more similar games, but at least this would be a start. A pity the bar was almost empty; she had no one lined up after Tom, and Keith had refused to play against her after she beat him three times in a row.
She let the cue slide over her fingers as she lined up the shot. A sharp strike, and her ball rattled the edges of the top right hand pocket before dropping in. Lacey let out a breath, straightening up, and Tom groaned, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“Sorry, buddy,” she said, grinning, and he sighed.
“You’re a damn hustler,” he grumbled, but winked at her, and she smirked and picked up the money.
“Another game?” she asked. “Go on, winner takes all!”
“Do i look like I have money to burn?” he asked. “Maybe next time, Lacey.”
He put his cue on the table and wandered off again, and she sighed, pocketing the money. Twenty bucks to add to what I have at home. Only another two hundred and ten to go!
She tried not to panic at the thought of how much money she had still to find, and how little time she had to find it. Work had been thin on the ground these past few weeks, and the cash she usually put aside to make her rent for the next month just hadn’t been there. She had her reasons for not having the cash, what she thought were good reasons, but Mr Gold wasn’t known for his generosity in granting extensions, and she was getting desperate.
A shadow moved out from behind one of the pillars, the light shining along the dark length of a cane before picking out the shape of a man. A short, thin man in a dark suit, which she suspected had cost more than he charged her for three months’ rent combined. His hair hung around his face, shining silver at his temples, and she licked her lips, suddenly wary. Speak of the devil…
Mr Gold glanced at her, his face impassive, a glint of something unfamiliar in his dark eyes. On any other man she would have thought it was hunger, desire, but Gold wasn’t like that. At least not as far as she knew. Say what you wanted about him (and people did), he wasn’t a creep. Not in that way. She suspected he could smell fear on people though, and could taste lies in the air. Money was all he seemed to care about, and being Storybrooke’s only landlord gave him power over pretty much everyone in town.
She imagined he enjoyed his status, but there was a tiny part of her that suspected that he had once been as poor and powerless as she. There was an air of darkness about him, of ancient pain and loss and violence, a wall of shadows that no one could get through. Perhaps that was why he had closed himself off from everyone in town, wrapped in his silk shirts and fine suits and hoarding the beautiful things in his shop like some sort of ageless dragon that was too weary to roar and burn its way across the town it had once terrorised. She wondered if there had ever been anyone in his life that he loved, but she dismissed the thought almost at once. He was always alone, and it seemed that he preferred it that way. Probably into some weird, kinky shit anyway, she thought, and snickered. He raised an eyebrow.
“Something amusing you, Miss French?”
He always talked that way. Calm, polite, and at the same time sounding as though he could kill you with a teaspoon if he had to. It was kind of sexy if she thought about it for too long.
“Only my own weird thoughts, Mr Gold,” she said carelessly, and stood with a hip cocked to the side, leaning on the pool table. “I was wondering whether you play pool. Twenty bucks says I can beat you.”
“I believe today is the day you give me money,” he said dryly. “I have no interest in reversing our roles.”
She chewed her lip. Dammit!
“Sure, no worries,” she said, shrugging. “I have a few hours left, right?”
“You have until the shop closes at six,” he said. “You’re well aware of my charges for late payments, I’m sure.”
“Is there anyone in this town who isn’t?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Six o’clock, Miss French.”
“Okay, okay, I heard you the first time!” She rolled her eyes. “Let a girl finish her drink, at least.”
“Oh, by all means,” he said sardonically. “Don’t let me stand in the way of your developing alcoholism.”
He stepped past her, heading for the bar, and Lacey glared at his back.
“Asshole!” she muttered, as she turned back to the pool table. The whisper of what felt like wind at her back made her shiver, and all of a sudden the air was too thick to breathe, catching in her throat as the spicy scent of cologne drifted into her nose.
“What was that, Miss French?”
Lacey yelped at the sound of his voice in her ear, at the feel of his breath on her skin, and she staggered, one arm flying out to the side to steady herself. A soft chuckle made her blood boil, and she spun on the balls of her feet to face him. Gold was very, very close, his eyes glinting wickedly, and she squared her jaw.
“You almost made me jump out of my skin!” she snapped, and he raised an eyebrow, gold tooth glinting in the light.
“Humble apologies,” he said softly. “I could have sworn you said something to me, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
She glared at him, and his grin widened a little as he looked her up and down, the gold tooth on his lower jaw flashing in the light.
“I can always take that rent payment now,” he said lazily, and she sniffed, trying to look down her nose at him.
“You’ll get it when I bring it over.”
“Six o’clock,” he said, his voice soft. “Don’t make me come looking for you, Miss French.”
There was a warning in his voice, darkness swathed in a soft accent and low tones, and she shivered. Great, now he has me marked! Why the hell couldn’t I keep my fucking mouth shut?
“I won’t,” she said, wondering how the hell she was going to get out of this. “I’ll be there before you close up.”
“The anticipation is almost too much to bear.”
He gave her a small bow, still grinning, and swaggered off, his cane tapping on the floor. Strange that he could be silent as death when he wanted to be. She watched him warily as he approached the nervous-looking bartender, and glanced around. The few patrons that had been there before Gold’s arrival had mysteriously disappeared, and she hissed in frustration.
Two hundred and ten dollars. How the hell am I gonna come up with that in two hours?
“You have to be kidding me,” said Ruby flatly, stacking glasses on a tray. “Where do you think I’m hiding that kind of cash? Down my bra?”
“Rubes, I’m desperate!” Lacey pleaded, leaning on one of the diner tables.
“I get that, honey, but I can’t help you.” Ruby slammed the glasses down with a little more force than was necessary. “Tips have been crappy the past few weeks, and I had to get the car serviced. There’s only so much work Billy can do for free before his boss gets suspicious.”
“Dammit!” Lacey pushed herself upright again, chewing her lip, and Ruby put her head to the side.
“What do you need it for, anyway?” she asked curiously, and Lacey grimaced.
“Rent,” she admitted, and Ruby’s eyes widened.
“You don’t have the rent?”
“I know, I know!” Lacey began to pace, high heels clicking. “I thought I could make more cash playing pool, but the guys haven’t really been around.”
Ruby shot her a knowing look.
“You mean they’ve all realised you’re a much better player than they thought?” she said dryly. “Might want to switch to poker or something.”
“I can worry about that tomorrow,” said Lacey, still pacing. “Right now I need to find two hundred and ten bucks or Gold’s gonna flip his shit. Any thoughts?”
Ruby shrugged, lifting the tray of glasses.
“Beyond offering to blow him? Sorry.”
“Ruby!”
“You asked.”
Ruby sauntered off to the kitchen with the tray, and Lacey sighed. A quick glance at the clock showed the seconds ticking by. Less than an hour now. There was no one else she could ask. No one who’d be willing to help, anyway. She hadn’t spoken to her father in months, and if she turned up asking for money it would only make things worse between them. Not that he ever had any; she was pretty sure he would be hiding from Gold himself that evening. Ruby had been her last, forlorn hope.
Huffing in frustration, she stomped out of the diner, shoving her hands into the pockets of the little jacket she wore. She shivered; it was almost October, and she supposed it was time to wear something that covered her a bit more. Her tiny dress left little to the imagination. She hurried along the street, scowling up at the clock tower, which was permanently stuck at eight-fifteen. What a pity she herself couldn’t freeze time. She reached her tiny apartment, trotting up the stairs and ducking inside to find her stash of money, wedged between the pages of a hardback edition of Persuasion. Counting it again made no difference to the amount she had. Still two hundred and ten short. Sighing to herself, she stuffed the wad of cash into the inside pocket of the jacket. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to ask Gold for an extension.
She hurried along the street, head down, nodding impatiently to anyone that spoke to her. The shop sign was lit, and she heaved a breath as she pushed open the door, the bell jingling cheerfully. Gold’s shop was silent, and seemingly empty, and she looked around for a moment, her eyes running over the myriad objects set on shelves. Entering his shop had always felt like stepping back in time, and not just because it was filled with antiques. It was something about the air in the place, the scent of beeswax and old paper and the dust of ages past, the polished floor of dark wood and the old glass counters. Even the lamps seemed dimmer than they ought to be, beautiful shades in hand-painted silk and jewel-coloured frosted glass, spilling light the colour of old gold across the polished surfaces of dressers and shelves. Clocks ticked on the walls, their tone low and calm, and she took a step further inside, peering at a shelf of old books with cloth-bound covers.
“Miss French.”
His voice made her jump again, and she turned to the back of the shop. Gold had slipped silently into the room, and was standing behind the counter with his hands braced on the tips of splayed fingers, watching her. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and gold sleeve garters encircled his arms just below the elbows, pushing the black silk shirt up a little. She swallowed hard, and raised her chin.
“Hey,” she said, walking to the counter and digging in her pocket.
She slapped the roll of money down in front of him, and he eyed her as he reached out, long fingers folding around it with a muted crackle of paper and pulling it towards him. For a moment she thought about just leaving, but he had spoken the truth earlier. He would come looking for her. The thought made her shiver, and she was surprised to find that the feeling wasn’t completely unpleasant. Gold licked his thumb, flicking through the bills. He looked up at the end, dark eyes fixed on hers, and she held her breath.
“It’s short,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she said. “I know it is, I - I don’t have the rest.”
“Why ever not?”
“Work was kind of patchy this month,” she admitted. “And - and I had some expenses. I just couldn’t get it all together, I’m sorry.”
Gold braced his hands on the counter again, shoulders hunching a little, watching her steadily.
“And yet when I saw you earlier this evening, you seemed to be drinking whisky and playing pool,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.
“I was trying to make money!” she said. “I can usually win twenty bucks a game, but hardly anyone wants to play me anymore. It’s not like I haven’t tried to find the rent, it’s just - well, I’m not a magician.”
Gold drummed the fingers of one hand on the counter, a slow, rhythmic, somehow ominous sound. She licked her lips nervously, and he sucked in a breath, his dark eyes fixed on hers. He didn’t seem to blink as often as normal people.
“You’ve always been one of my more reliable tenants, Miss French,” he said at last. “Unlike your father. I have no doubt I’ll hear the same pathetic excuses when I visit him to collect later this evening.”
Lacey folded her arms. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know,” she grumbled. “We don’t exactly talk much.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.”
He sounded amused, as though he knew something he shouldn’t, and it was grating on her, but the mention of her father had triggered a memory. A memory of when she had once thought Gold might not be the bastard everyone made him out to be.
“Dad still hasn’t forgiven you for evicting him that time,” she added. “That was when I moved out. You let me rent my apartment, remember?”
“I did.”
She hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to pretend that he hadn’t offered that to her for less than it was worth. He’d said it was because it was damp, but she had never found any damp in there. Or seen any sign of the ghost that was supposed to haunt the place.
“I didn’t have the deposit,” she said. “And you said I could pay it in instalments. Thirty extra bucks every week.”
“Your memory is flawless,” he said dryly. “I trust this doesn’t mean that you plan on taking advantage of my generous nature, Miss French.”
She almost choked at that, her eyes wide. Generous? His mouth had pulled up at one corner, as though he was amused by making her squirm. As though he wanted to see her beg. Fuck him if he thinks I’ll give him the satisfaction.
“Actually, I was thinking that we have a history,” she said, giving him her best smile. “A history where I promised to pay you back, and I did. See how that works?”
Gold raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
“You promised to pay me when you signed the rental agreement,” he said. “I may have made an exception regarding the deposit due to you being barely more than a child, but that was some years ago. You are now an adult, with all the responsibilities that entails. The exception no longer applies.”
“Dammit, Gold!”
Lacey took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check, and his twisted smile grew a little more.
“So you won’t budge even a tiny bit?” she said. “I can’t make rent, I can’t stay, is that it?”
“Well, you’ll have time to gather your things, of course,” he said easily. “I need to serve you with notice, after all. You know the rules, Miss French.”
“I know you’re a fucking bastard!”
“Oh my!” He chuckled, looking amused. “I ask for you to adhere to our agreement, which you fail to do and it’s me that’s unreasonable?”
Lacey leaned on the counter, so close she could smell his cologne again. She was well aware that the angle gave him an excellent view down the front of her dress. His eyes flicked over her, so quickly that if she hadn’t been watching for it, she wouldn’t have noticed.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she let her voice lower in cadence. “That was rude, I just - I can’t bear to think about going back to my dad’s place, that’s all.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Gold, his eyes glinting. “From the look of the place, you’d spend all your time cleaning up after him. The flower shop is all he cares about.” He lifted a hand, spreading his fingers. “Well, that and cheap whisky.”
“At least he’s family,” she said. “I’m his daughter, his only kid. That - that has to mean something, right.”
“Apparently not, as far as he’s concerned,” he said, and she felt herself bristle.
“I know he’s not gonna win any prizes for World’s Greatest Father,” she said, “but it’s not like I have anyone else to turn to.”
Gold shrugged.
“Move back home if you want,” he said. “I highly suspect you’ll be begging me for your old apartment back within two weeks, but perhaps I’m just a pessimist when it comes to Moe French.”
Lacey pushed back from the counter, hands on hips.
“Look, if anyone’s gonna insult that bastard, it’s gonna be me!” she snapped. “You don’t know anything about him beyond how much he owes you every month!”
Gold smiled, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement, and straightened up, reaching for the handle of his cane to steady himself.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said softly. “I think I know exactly what sort of man he is.”
“I know, a bloody deadbeat who’s always late with payments,” she sighed. “I’ve heard it all before, believe me. I’ve been lending him money since I got my first job. He’s kinda free with his fists when he’s drunk, too, if you want something else to add to the list.”
Gold watched her, hands clasped over the handle of his cane. He was looking as though he had something to say, but was unsure whether to say it. It was bloody annoying.
“What?” she said, a little more aggressively than was necessary, and he smiled, shaking his hair back from his face.
“D’you know, when I lent your father the money to buy that delivery van of his, I gave him two potential payment options,” he said. “The first was for an unsecured loan, the higher interest rate of the two. The second was for a loan secured on some form of collateral. Clearly this carried less risk, and would have been the option I would have taken, in his position. Had he any collateral, of course.”
“Let me guess, he made the wrong choice?”
Gold showed his teeth. “Well, I suppose that depends on your point of view. He offered me you.”
It was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment Lacey was breathless.
“I - what?”
His smile widened. “Your virtue, to be precise. He thought you worth the price of a van, at least. That’s the sort of man he is, Miss French.”
She shook her head, her heart thumping.
“I don’t believe you,” she said numbly, and Gold shrugged.
“That doesn’t make it any less true, but think whatever makes you feel better.”
The worst part of it was that she did believe him. She turned away, running her hands over her face before whirling back to face him.
“You said no,” she said, almost accusingly and he blinked.
“Of course I said no,” he said. “You couldn’t have been any more than sixteen, what do you take me for?”
Great. The town monster is a better man than my dad. Fucking fantastic.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, and pushed away from the counter.
“Your rent, Miss French,” he called after her, and she waved a hand, unseeing.
“I’ll be back, I just have to - have to…”
She cut off, wrenching open the shop door and making the bell jingle merrily again as she stomped out into the evening air. She had a visit to make.
#golden lace#rumbelle#rumbelle fic#golden lace fic#wipweek#fic: empty corridors#mentions of alcoholism#implied abuse
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Part 2, Chapter 4: Chain
A strip mall off the turnpike in New Jersey. Looking for lunch. From where I stand by my truck, this could be anywhere.
We must have decided this, right, at some point? That we wanted it all to look the same? And I can understand that decision. We all like to feel somewhere familiar. Now we can have that feeling wherever we are. No matter the climate or geography, you come inside the chain and you are exactly where you were before, like there was a magic door to the city you feel most comfortable in. It’s a positive that can’t be denied.
But we have paid a price for this.
Sylvia laughed and pulled my arm. “I know,” she said. “You’re thinkin’ your big thoughts so you can have something profound to say on the radio later, but I am starvin’!” “Can’t a lady have thoughts in peace occasionally? I said. “A lady spends all her time on her ass thinkin’ and right now it’s lunchtime,” she said. “Ooh, burgers!”
In between a Chipotle and a Quiznos was a store front that twisted my guts. I tried to process what I was seeing. “Let’s eat there,” Sylvia said, already walking toward it.
The design of the place was as clean and interchangeable as any other restaurant in the strip mall. But there was the sign in the shape of a burger. The sign said, “PRAXIS”.
The inside was a simple counter and a couple tables with plastic chairs. The wall was papered in comic book covers, although I didn’t recognize any of the characters. “Tiptoe Woman”, one was called. Another called “The Incredible Man who Cries.” “I might get a chicken sandwich,” Sylvia said. “Is that weird, getting chicken at a burger place?”
I forgot how alone I was til I wasn’t anymore. Having Sylvia here has been nice. And maybe I feel guilty about that, because she’s still a teenager, and she should be living in a stable home, going to school and being a kid, not circling this country with me. But I’m not the one that murdered Sylvia’s mother and left her with the same obsession I have.
She came to me for a specific reason, but first I have routes I need to run, and she’s content to run them with me. Bay and Creek is unlikely to fire me, but I have been flat out ignoring delivery schedules and I think I need to actually drive a truck for work occasionally.
“What can I get you?” The guy behind the counter had thinning hair under a little paper cap. The cap said “PRAXIS”.
“Uh, what’s good?” I said.
“Burger’s OK.” I ordered a burger and Sylvia, after some vacillation, did the same.
He wrote up the order on a slip and pushed it to the woman at the grill without looking at her.
“Two burgers up in a moment!” she said. The man did not acknowledge this.
“What’s your name?” said Sylvia.
“Ramon,” he said.
“And I’m Donna!” said the woman in the kitchen, as she slapped a fistful of ground meat on the flat top and smashed it with a spatula. “He won’t introduce me, he doesn’t talk to me.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I’ll have burgers out to you in a moment,” Ramon said.
“We’ve been running this business together for five years,” said Donna, “and he has never spoken to me.”
“Is that true?” Sylvia asked Ramon. He scowled.
“Our parents died,” Donna said. Ramon furiously cleaned the spotless counter with a rug.
“They left us everything equally. Soon after their death, I sold their house, the house we grew up in. I didn’t have time to consult with him, and he hasn’t talked to me since. Order up!”
Ramon carried them over.
“Is it OK if I tell you something?” I asked.
“Doubt I could stop you,” he said.
“Someone hurt me, “ is aid, “betrayed me. And that has defined what my life has been for every second of every day after. And it has sucked. If I had any other choice I’d take it. if you have any other choice besides being defined by a feeling of betrayal, you should jump for it. jump for it like dry land to the drowned.”
Ramon’s eyes softened.
“You gotta forgive her some time, dude,” Sylvia said through a mouthful of burger. “This is really good, by the way.” [chewing noise]
He grunted, returning to the counter.
The paper napkins all had the word “PRAXIS” on them. Sylvia took one and did a sketch of Ramon, holding a burger and giving a stone-faced thumbs up to the viewer. On our way out, she presented it to him. He said nothing as he accepted, but his lip twitched upwards.
“Bye now!” said Donna from the kitchen. Ramon’s frown returned.
An hour later back on the road, I slapped the steering wheel, waking Sylvia up.
“Christ, what?” she said. “Are we in danger?”
“Ugh! I left my scarf at the burger place,” I said. [sighs] “Oh well. I guess that scarf belongs to them now.”
It’s hard to tell regions apart just by looking at the buildings now. A CVS is a CVS, a Starbucks is a Starbucks. I’m not here to moralize, I’m just telling you what it is to be a traveler now.
Every place is built like every place, and so the only thing that tells you that you’re moving is the nature that’s been allowed to stay.
As you head north, the trees shift from broad leafy canopies to the narrow spurs of conifers. And the mountains turn from big hills to great structures of rock, topped with vast slopes of untouched snow. Or , on another drive, the hills dot themselves away into nothing. And you realize you haven’t seen elevaton in hours, nor many trees, just a lot of grass and a lot of road. Or you leave behind a wetter, greener climate, and you see the world around you fade from grass to kindling, to dirt and rocks and then, like a sign marking a border you didn’t know you were crossing, the first great cactus, harbinger of the waiting desert.
It’s up to nature to tell us we’re moving. Otherwise, each Kmart sign looks like each Kmart sign. Every Subway sandwich tastes the same.
A few days later, somewhere north of Madison, near Devil’s Lake. There was this big stretch of hotels with indoor water parks, for when the Wisconsin weather with the Wisconsin vacation. Near the hotel was a cluster of shopping centers, movie theaters, all the things you ned if your camping trip is forced indoors. We were scanning for somewhere to eat and Sylvia was of course the first one who saw it. “I guess they’re a chain,” she said. A burger-shaped sign. “PRAXIS”. “Mm, last one was good. Shall we?”
Something in me was afraid, but something in me is always afraid, and I’ve gotten very good at quieting that part of me. So I led the way in.
“You forgot your scarf,” said Ramon.
Donna waved at us from the kitchen.
Sylvia and I froze, but Ramon was already bringing over my scarf, and Donna was indicating a table in the corner.
“Wh- What are you doing here?” was the best I could manage.
“Well, we hardly ever leave the business,” Donna said.
“Lots to do,” Ramon said, folding up my scarf and putting it by me.
“Same as last time?”
“Uh, sure,” Sylvia said. “Weren’t you-“
She didn’t seem to know if this was a subject she wanted to look at too closely, but she went for it anyway. “Weren’t y’all in New Jersey last time we saw you?”
Donna shrugged, splatting our patties on the grill.
“We don’t get out much,” Ramon said, and then “Thanks,” said absently as Donna gave him the burgers.
She stopped, hand still on one of the plates. “Did you just talk to me?” she said.
“Well, like those two were saying,” he said not looking at her, “have to forgive sometime.”
“Forgive?” Donna started laughing. “Oh ho ho honey, OK, I’m glad we’re talking now because we have some shit needs talking about.”
We sat at the table not knowing what to do, caught between the mundanely awkward and the existentially impossible.
“When they died, you just gave up!” Donna said. “You refused to talk through the choices we needed to make. So all that was left up to me. I was on my own, and I was scared, but scared isn’t any kind of excuse so I did what needed to be done. I settled the estate, I sold the house to pay the bills, because there were bills, you know. Medical bills, cemetery bills and all of the debt. And then once all of those choices were made, there you were to tell me I had done them wrong. And you just stopped talking to me, punishing me for the choices that you couldn’t make! And now, excuse me, now you fucking forgive me?!”
Or something to that effect.
“I didn’t do anything?” Ramon said. “Who was busy arranging the funeral?”
“OH, the funeral!” said Donna. “Of course, forget all the bills and the estate, you planned an evening!”
Sylvia pulled my sleeve and we left them shouting at each other, burgers unserved and uneaten. Behind the shouting figure of Ramon, I could see Sylvia’s drawing tacked up on the wall next to the cash register.
Stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts that had a drive-thru window. And visible to the costumers, there was a huge screen tracking the percentage the employees were hitting of their “productivity target”. It was at 67 per cent. This per cent is 67 per cent of what they’re supposed to be. We are 33 per cent disappointed.
It’s terrifying what we’ve allowed them to do to us, so we could get coffee a few seconds faster. It’s a trade we all made, but we were never given time to think through the ramifications.
On the highway between Houston and New Orleans, a stretch of bayou and of absolutely nothing else. Pulled off for gas and decided to get lunch too.
We both saw it, between an empty storefront with a half-collapsed banner saying “we buy gold” and a nail salon with only one employee, who was on a smoke break outside, staring up with unfocused eyes at he sky.
We didn’t even comment on it, we just went in past the sign that sais “PRAXIS”.
“Hey,” Ramon said.
“Hi there honeys!” said Donna.
“You two seem happier,” said Sylvia.
“We worked things out,” Donna said.
“Maybe we both had to forgive and both be forgiven,” said Ramon. “It’s nice that you’re back. You’ll be one of our last customers.”
Donna put two patties on the flat top without waiting for our order.
“Oh, you’re uh.. closing up this place?” I said.
“Running the business that our parents ran,” said Donna. “It was holding us back, keeping us in the same place mentally. We need to live our own lives. Thanks for visiting us along your travels!”
“This restaurant has been in a different city every time we visited, “I said, wanting to confront it directly if this was my last chance.
Ramon shrugged. “These things happen,” he said.
“Do they?” said Sylvia.
“What is Praxis?” I said.
Donna smiled at me. “Oh honey, if you don’t know that yet, don’t worry. You’ll find out when it’s time.”
She assembled the burgers and rang the little bell, even if Ramon was right there, his hands already out.
“Thanks again for your business!”
Sylvia’s sketch was still tacked to the wall, but it had faded, and the edges of the napkin had gone brittle.
At a Bay and Creek center near Buffalo, I asked about the delivery I did last year to a factory in Florida. “Praxis”, the name on the factory had said.
“What is Praxis?” I asked.
The shift supervisor, who had been looking over her papers (and the days at) tedium, went stiff.
“Where did you hear that name?” she said.
“You assigned me a route for them last year.”
“We certainly did not. You need to tell me everything, but hold on.” She got up, reached for a phone. “Not me, I don’t want to hear a word of this. I’ll call someone in here, and you are going to tell them everything you know about Praxis.”
She started dialing and I got up and walked away. She shouted at me to wait, but I was most certainly not going to do that.
What is Praxis, and why did the name upset my Bay and Creek supervisor so much?
Hm. Another mystery for another day. It’s time to help Sylvia with what she came to me for.
I leave the truck, switch to a rented car. Sylvia sleeps in the back. Whew, that girl can sleep! Me, I have trouble sleeping in the best of situations. And I haven’t been in the best of situations in… well, years now probably.
We drive for hours through New York until we reach the Hudson river. In Kingston, on the western shore, there is this huge area of chain restaurants and box stores and strip malls. It looks like they kept the rest of the area picturesque by jamming all of that into a couple of square miles, which is a pretty good plan.
I drive around, looking for something specific. And I find it, next to a half-vacant mall anchored by a Target and what used to be a JC Pennies. There is a line of fast food franchises, and there is only one empty storefront.
We get out, and I ran my hand over the glass where the outline of the word “PRAXIS” is still visible. The inside is empty, all the furniture and fixtures removed.
“Guess they really did move on,” Sylvia said.
“How was that possible?” I asked.
“We of all people are not in the position to go round asking those questions,” she said. “We start thinking about that, we’re liable to go off the deep end. Good Lord!”
And so we get back in the car and cross the river. I head to the Taconic Parkway, passing a few Christmas tree farms and a number of horses wearing jackets. The Taconic is beautiful but narrow. Finally, we reach a gas station on the southern edge of Duchess County and I wake Sylvia up. When she has regained the world, she takes on a look of determined sorrow.
“Yeah,” she said. “This is where my mother was murdered.”
“What now?” I said.
“Now… We’re going to figure out who really murdered her.”
[right speaker] Knock knock.
[left speaker] Who’s there?
[right] I think you know.
[left] I do.
[right] Can I come in?
[left] I don’t think so.
[right] Come on.
[left] I need you to leave!
[right] That was never an option. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. [sighs] OK well, OK.
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The Wedding
I’ve always wanted to try my hand at writing on tumblr or AO3. I used to have an account on FF.net, but I don’t really use it. I’ve had this idea floating around for a while now, so. Here it is!
Tony was pacing. Penny could hear it as she walked to his hotel room. Louder, then quieter as he walked from one side of the room to the other. She knocked, and opened the door without waiting for an answer. She put her purse down on the table beside the door, and turned to examine the room.
Harley sat on the couch with his tie draped over his shoulder, staring up at Tony amusedly, but turned to her at her entrance. Tony was pacing, probably wearing a hole in the carpet, and muttering incomprehensibly. And Rhodey, bless him, was trying-and failing-to get him to ‘sit down and rest, goddamnit, you’re going to give yourself pit-stains!’, all while glaring at Harley for not helping.
Penny cleared her throat, attracting the attention of the other occupants of the room. Rhodey dropped down next to Harley with a muttered “Thank fuck”. Penny crossed her arms and smiled at her father.
“How’re you feeling, Dad?”
“Good. Good. Yep, all good here.” he replied, nodding along to his own words, obviously trying to convince himself as well as everyone else.
“Good”
“Good. Yep. Mhm.” He swallowed.
“Hm.” Penny turned to Harley, “He’s freaking-out isn’t he?”
Harley, with his shit-eating grin and Tennessee drawl that Penny found herself falling in love with more and more, simply nodded his head. Penny then turned to Rhodey, held a hand out and said:
“You owe me 20 bucks.”
He groaned but coughed up the cash nevertheless. That seemed to snap Tony out of it.
“Wait what? Why...what?” He pointed at Penny. Then Rhodey. Then back again.
“I bet Rhodey you’d start freaking out once you saw yourself in the mirror.”
“Huh. How’d you know I was in front of the mirror?”
Penny smirked knowingly, before walking over to where he now stood, in front of the bed. She tugged on his tie and said:
“You’ve only started to tie your tie. You always tie your ties in front of the mirror, so… It was only logical to assume.” As she was saying this she was also tying it for him.
Tony dropped onto the bed, and rested his head in his hands. Penny knew this was much more than pre-wedding jitters. She gave a meaningful look towards Rhodey and Harley. Rhodey caught on first. Sadly, one thing all that time in the military had not taught him, was how to bullshit on the spot. A tragedy, really.
“Hey kid, let’s um… let’s go and uh...do something.” Harley lifted his eyebrow amusedly at him at his honestly pathetic excuse, but followed nonetheless as Rhodey led him to the door. Penny turned back to Tony, who had remained oblivious to the exchange, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.
Penny sat down beside him, and nudged him a little. She waited for him to look at her, before she said anything.
“Hey” she whispered.
“Hi” he replied, just as quietly.
She bumped her shoulder with his. “Why so glum, chum?”
He smiled at her small attempt at humour, before sighing and rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m just, I guess I’m just worried. I know I have nothing to worry about. I mean, this is Pepper for Christ’s sake. But, I’ve just, I’ve done so much to hurt her. I don’t understand why she’s still here. Why she…” he trails off, looking at her.
‘This is it’ she thinks, ‘This is what's got him so worried’
“Why she hasn't left yet.” She finishes for him with a sigh. He nods at her and looks down towards the ground. She stands up, and kneels in front of him, careful to make sure her dress doesn’t get dirty. She holds his hands and waits for him to look at her. “She hasn’t left, Daddy, because she loves you. And you love her. And look, I know growing up with Howard, you didn’t have a lot of that, but you do now. Okay? She loves you so much. We all do. And I know you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but you don’t have to. Not with us. Not with me, or Mom, or Rhodey, or Morgan, or Harley, or May, or Happy, okay? Never with us. Because we’re not going anywhere. Ever.”
His eyes were glassy as they looked down on Penny, but she could see that she’d gotten through to him. He wrapped his arms around her and she did the same. They were like that when Rhodey and Harley came in from God-knows where.
“Aww, well ain’t this adorable”
‘And moment ruined.’ She thought to herself. They both turned to glare at Harley, who smirked like the fucking devil himself. Penny stood up and made her way to Harley, as Rhodey sat beside Tony.
“You good, man?” He questioned, with a hand on Tony’s shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry for uh, freaking out.”
Harley decided to butt in. “Don’t worry about it, old man. We probably would’ve been more worried if you weren’t a panicky, stressy mess.”
Penny snorted before grabbing his hand, and pulling him into a quick kiss.
“Why don’t you have your tie, tied?”
“Can’t, never learned.” He gave a sad smile at that, and Penny returned it, both of them thinking of his shit-for-brains father.
“C’mon, I’ll teach you.” He raised an eyebrow at that, but Penny’s voice left no room for argument.
A few minutes later, Harley had learnt a new skill and Rhodey and Tony were laughing with each other over some Youtube video on the sofa.
“Well,” Penny whispered, “Don’t you clean up nicely?” And he did. Rhodey and Harley were wearing the same suit, with a grey jacket and pants, white shirt and red with a diagonal gold stripe. The bridesmaids (Penny and May) wore a knee high red dress, with a gold belt, to match the boys’ ties. Tony had the same jacket and pants, but with a red shirt and a gold tie.
“You’re not one to talk, Penny,” He whispered just as quietly. He leaned down and kissed her. And Penny would be the first to admit, it was a great kiss...before they were rudely interupted by a fucking projectile pillow. They looked at each other, before turning to glare at her Dad.
“Dude. What the fuck?”
“I don’t want to see...that.” Tony replied with a disgusted look on his face pointing between them.
“It didn’t mean you had to throw a pillow at us!”
“Eh.”
Before Penny had a chance to respond, her phone beeped. It was a text from Pepper saying she needed her for photos. She texted back that she’d be there as fast as she could. She gave Harley a quick kiss goodbye and gave Tony a hug, before strolling out of the room.
***
The music started, and Penny watched as Morgan grabbed the basket of red and gold flower petals and with only the confidence that a five-year-old could muster, walked out onto the aisle. Penny waited a few seconds before following, then it was May, then, finally, Pepper. Each of them were holding small bouquets of red roses, tied together with gold ribbons.
Penny watched with a grin as Morgan grabbed handfuls of the petals and either dropped them where she stood, or ran over to someone she knew and gave them the handfuls. When she reached the end of the aisle and ran out of petals, she stood still for a split second, before darting up to Tony, and giving him a bear hug. There were collective ‘aww’s’ from either side of the aisle. Morgan was about to sit down in her seat, but then decided that she’d rather stay with the grown-ups (and Penny and Harley). She hurried over to Penny with her arms up. Always being the one who found it impossible to say ‘no’ to the little girl, Penny willingly complied, and set the little girl on her hip.
While being distracted by Morgan when she rushed up and hugged him, once she went with Penny, Tony’s eyes immediately found Pepper. Everyone in the room could see the moment when he took in her hair and make-up and the dress and just thought ‘Wow. I get to marry her!’. The whole world might’ve been blown to fucking hell, but Penny knew that absolutely nothing could take his eyes off of her. Pepper’s Dad kissed her cheek before passing her hands to Tony, who couldn’t seem to grab them quick enough.
Pepper’s dress was gorgeous. It was simple, but elegant, with a lace covered top and off-the-shoulder sleeves and a satin bottom flowing to the floor. She had a red and gold comb in her hair, holding it in a fancy up-do that May had spent an hour perfecting. She had decided to forgo the veil, and instead had a dainty, silver tiara. With her red curls framing her face.
Vision was ordained because of course he was. The ceremony was quick, the vows said and the tears shed. Tony’s cheek’s were a little damp, even though he'd swear up and down that that was a lie. Until finally, Vision said
“You may kiss the bride”
Everyone cheered and had smiles splitting their faces. The kiss was short, and Tony rested his head against Pepper who whispered to her now-husband:
“Will that be all Mr. Stark?”
To which he replied:
“That’ll be all Mrs Stark.”
***
The dinner was relatively uneventful, you did, however, hear Morgan telling Tony and Pepper that it was ‘yucky’ when they kissed because Morgan had now reached that age. The speeches were funny, with Rhodey retelling stories of Tony from his MIT days.
The afterparty was the best, though. Penny and Harley were alone while Rhodey played babysitter. And Pepper and Tony went to talk to the band, before they got started.
“Hey” Harley nudged Penny.
“Hey yourself.”
“You know, I distinctly remember us doing something before the wedding.” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively and she snorted loudly.
“You know, I don’t think I know what you're talking about”
“Oh really?” He asked, dragging out the ‘e’.
“Mhm”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to remind you then.”
Before Penny had a chance to ponder a witty retort, she felt Harley’s soft lips on hers. Time seemed to hold still as the sense of HarleyHarleyHarley surrounded her. Thank God she had already been sitting, or her legs would’ve given out. She felt his hands go to her waist and hers go around his neck but didn't really register it. She felt like-
“Ew! Gross!”
And that was Penny’s five-year-old sister glaring at them with her hands on her hips and her ‘Uncle Rhodey’ cackling like a fucking witch behind her. Penny and Harley broke off with a sigh, foreheads still touching.
“Why does everyone keep kissing today? It’s gross! And it spreads germs.”
And suddenly Penny and Harley were laughing along with Rhodey, even though they were both completely out of breath, because a five-year-old who is as terrifying as a teacup pomeranian was lecturing people over three times her age about how it is unhygienic to kiss. And there were tears streaming down all three of their faces and Morgan was looking very put-out and people were staring at them and it was all sickeningly, tooth-rotting-ly domestic.
And then the band started playing a song. Ed Sheeran’s ‘Perfect’ to be exact. Tony and Pepper waltzed through the doors ーbecause they never did anything half-wayー and onto the middle of the dancefloor. Suddenly they were dancing a dance that was so relaxed and informal and one-hundred-percent made up on the spot, that everyone was smiling big, ugly smiles by the end of it. For the next song Penny and Harley joined in, and so did May and Happy, and Rhodey and Morgan.
A few songs later, the band announced the Father-Daughter dance, Penny was already on the dancefloor with Harley, and Morgan was asleep on Rhodey's shoulder, the day's excitement having finally caught up with her. Tony strolled over to Penny and Harley and held out his hand. From where they were standing, they could see Pepper’s Dad bringing Pepper out onto the dance floor.
“May I cut in?” He asked with a smirk.
Harley removed his hands from her waist and placed her hand in Tony’s. “She’s all yours”
He led her further into the dancefloor, to where they could see other ‘Father-Daughter’ duos. Tony put one hand on her hip and the other in her left hand. Penny followed suit and put one on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. They started dancing to a nameless song and Penny rested her head on his shoulder,
“You were right, you know.”
Penny looked up curiously, “I usually am, but about what in particular, this time?”
“Earlier. In the hotel room. When you told me everything was going to be fine.” He looked over to Pepper and smiled. “And that she loved me”
“Well. It’s about time someone got it into your thick head.”
He looked back down at her and glared with no heat. “Rude”.
“True”
“By the way, who taught you how to dance?”
Penny grinned, “You did”
He smiled back, “Well, I've done a fine job.”
She smiled wider, if that was even possible, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He rested his cheek on her hair. And they danced in peace for the rest of the song.
#peter parker#tony stark#rhodey#pepper stark#pepper potts#pepperony#harley keener#parkner#keenker#wedding#fluff#morgan stark
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PROFILE LOADED... 「JANG DAHYE」「UNAFFILIATED」「TWENTY-TWO」
“Twenty-two-year-old CLUB HOSTESS and INFORMATION BROKER that goes by the alias ‘HEIZE’. No known allies.”
✘ THREAT LEVEL LOW. NO PRECAUTIONS NECESSARY...
WARNING: PARENT DEATH, DRINKING, DRUGS, GAMBLING
[ BACKGROUND... ]
luck (n): good fortune; advantage or success, considered as the result of chance.
if one asks dahye, however, what she thinks of luck, she would scoff. there is no such thing; all that has befallen her is misfortune, a result of her father’s and brother’s reckless and irresponsible choices. her mother, the only other sensible one in the family is long gone; her home is with angels now.
but it is not always this way.
when she is a child, her parents tell her a beautiful story of how they met, how dahye’s mother left her rich family to be with her father. how she fell in love with his passion and righteousness and he was enamored by her gentle, caring ways. their apartment might be small and dahye has to wear hand-me-downs and her shoes are scuffed up by running in the street, but she is happy. her parents try their best to make ends meet, making their apartment into a castle for their family: her mother brings her ice cream after work with a tired smile, says she’ll read dahye a story even when there is fatigue in her eyes, her father comes home left and slumps on the couch, tells his princess that one day, she’ll get her happy ending.
but after the untimely death of her mother during the summer dahye turns twelve, her father descends into a downward spiral. gone is the admirable man with a backbone of steel, and a desperate man with eyes turned to money instead of change takes his place. perhaps this is how he copes with the loss of his wife, too; he soons finds his way into gambling dens, spending nights betting on chance. what money he does win is lost again in an endless, vicious cycle. he is drowning in debt, surfacing only to play another hand. dahye’s brother is no different—he, too, is frivolous in his actions, squandering whatever is in his wallet on alcohol and easy thrills. when dahye finds bags of drugs stashed behind his bed, she doesn’t have to wonder for much longer about how he gets his money.
( oh, how the mighty have fallen. )
though her neighbors and her aunt help her out when they can, dahye is left to raise herself. by the time she reaches high school, she is self-sufficient. perhaps how she fills her wallet not the most ethical sometimes, as some of her cash comes straight from the wallets she’s lifted from unassuming tourists. she is, at least, not her brother, half-involved with gangs, dancing a fine line between thrill and foolishness every day.
no, she is sensible.
her brother and father, however, are not. they claim one day, their luck will turn around, that one day they’ll be free of this apartment they’ve lived in for so long, but dahye knows better. they are going nowhere. she packs away her own dreams when faced with the grim reality. she takes responsibility for their finances, despite being the youngest, working multiple jobs to keep them from ending up on the street. she goes from the convenience store to a hotel to tutoring stuck-up children with the kind of wealth her mother used to dream about ( though she gave it all up for love, dahye knew her mother missed the jewels and the penthouses ).
dahye struggles through school and work, but keeps her grades up even if it costs her hours of sleep. school is her only way out. she might have few friends, but she simply does not have the time when she is devoted to keeping her family and herself afloat. all her warnings and pleas go unheard, her brother and father fixated on unattainable grandeur. when her brother stumbles home drunk and high, she’s the one to take care of him, and when her father flaunts his winnings, she simply scoffs, knowing they’d be lost soon enough. when she’s quick enough, she swipes some of his cash and stashes it away; he’ll too be too drunk to notice it’s gone.
she learns early on the world is not friendly to girls like her, girls who have been tossed to the wolves, and her words become cutting and cold—a form of protection, perhaps, especially needed considering the kind of people her brother is friends with.
it’s easy money, he’s told her more than once, i’m gonna be a fucking dragon.
you’re not gonna be anything, she mutters, but soon she learns he’s become part of vanguard.
of course he has. she distances herself even more—all that glitters is not gold, and she prefers not to dance with the devil. she fashions herself into a chameleon instead, concealing sarcasm and cynicism behind a pretty smile and honeyed words. it would not do her well to lose her jobs or to anger more people than she needs to, after all, and dahye is nothing but quick: a quick study, quick wit, quick fingers.
when she turns nineteen, she leaves. she finds her own place, small and quiet and not much of a step up from where she used to live, but it is still away from her failure of a family. she still sends them money, but as far as she is concerned, she needs to worry about herself. she finds a night job as a club hostess; she loathes it, but a friend put in a good word for her and men are easy to sway into giving up their secrets. haven’t you heard loose lips sink ships?
it starts off as an experiment. she lets so-and-so know mr. lee has been calling up the same girl over and over, if they want to know where he goes after he leaves the club they’ll have to give her a little bit of money, just a little, and they do. she goes home with a little more in her bank account and they leave satisfied; soon she learns how lucrative information can be. she goes through the offices of her students’ parents, pretends to be vapid and shallow so corrupt businessmen can spill their drunken confessions for her to collect. her old apartment complex is filled with secrets, and visits to her old place are disguised as familial reconnecting rather than extraction. her brother isn’t exactly quiet, after all, and he thinks his sister is a safe.
he’s not wrong.
the combination to unlock her just happens to have a price tag.
[ BEHAVIOR... ]
once upon a time, dahye was selfless. she gave up all her dreams for her fuckup of a father and brother, worked tirelessly to help keep them afloat. once upon a time, dahye believed in fairytales and happy endings and a knight that would come save her.
that girl is no more.
she has been hardened by what the world as thrown at her; she has grown cynical and jaded, independent and guarded. her wit is sharp and her mind is sharper. there is a certain mystery to her; you could topple down a wall and find another built in its place. trusting leads to vulnerability, and vulnerability leads to weakness—if dahye is anything, she is not weak. ( aut viam inveniam aut faciam. i shall either find a way or make one. ) persistent and adaptable, she’ll do almost anything to survive. she’s calculating, too—unlike her brother, she knows how to think ahead and proceed with caution. she doesn’t let people in easily, if at all.
and if you want a favor? there’s got to be something in it for her. any shred of altruism has been replaced by a sense of self-preservation; she’s finally given herself the luxury to think of herself before anyone else, and she’s not too keen on turning back—unless you’re special. you see, there is still a protective streak lying dormant in dahye that comes out when she places her hard-earned trust in someone. she’s not particularly motherly or typically doting, but she will kick anyone’s ass if they try to mess with the ones she cares about, and she’s got their back.
with penchants for sarcasm and cutting candor, she’s a rose with more thorns than petals. coming off as indifferent with a tinge of perpetual exhaustion, she keeps up a mask of nonchalance to cover how perceptive she truly is. though she seems like she truly doesn’t give a shit most of the time, she’s a fuse waiting to blow, her emotions kept buried deep where they won’t get in her way. when she snaps—oh, it’s explosive.
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