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mammalsofaction · 1 month

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Those Moments When We Didn't Get Along

Rating: G

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, mute Perry, POV Outsider, the whole Flynn-Fletcher family, set during the breakup scene from About Time.

A/N: The lore behind Perry and Lawrence's relationship is in compliance with the Human Perry Lore post I've made a while back here. Perry's sister, Lawrence's ex-wife, was named Evelyn, AKA Agent Eve the Echidna. (Get it, egg laying mammals native to Australia?)

Now read it on Ao3!

"Perry?" Lawrence calls out, knocking on his door. The room is dark, unlit, but the answering churr is unmistakable. He sounds...

"Are you alright, dear boy?" This time, an indecipherable grunt. "Linda sent me up to tell you dinner's ready. May I come in?"

When he hears no response, which is as good of an answer on its own, he pushes the door to let himself inside, and instinctively reaches for the light switch.

Perry's face down on the bed, still partly dressed in his teal work clothes. He doesn't flinch.

"My word, old boy, what's happened?" Lawrence demands, mildly alarmed. Perry bats his hands away when he plops himself down next to him on the mattress, shoving at his shoulder, but he does it without twisting himself around. "Don't be like that, let me look at you. Perry. What's gotten into you?"

Then he hears it. The unmistakable sniffle.

Lawrence gapes. "Have you just broken up with someone?"

It was an educated guess, but the way Perry leaps up to slap at his face all but confirms it. Lawrence supposed he had said it too loudly considering the kind of household they're in. He could swear Candace's hearing could be supersonic sometimes. "We didn't even know you were dating anybody," Lawrence chides, half despairing. Perry tries to plop back down into bed, and Lawrence doesn't let him. Going so far as to physically set himself between Perry and the miserably crumpled mattress so his foster-cum-brother-in-law was throwing himself into his embrace instead.

Lawrence pats Perry's back, commiserating. Perry's buried his face in the crook of Lawrence's throat. He hadn't gotten more than a glance at Perry's face, but what he's seen has practically torn his heart apart; nothing but swollen eyes and visible tear tracks. "What happened?" He asks again, helplessly. "Will you tell me?"

Lawrence half-expects being ignored. Both of them knew that Lawrence knew, at least partially, the hidden truth of Perry's career, but it wasn't from anything Perry ever tells him in person. There are some unmistakeable aspects of himself that he still clamps down on, and Lawrence would never presume to push.

So he's taken by surprise when Perry shrugs, noncommittal, then raises his hands to sign; Think I just got cheated on.

"You what?" Lawrence hisses.

It's fine, I don't-

"No, Perry." Lawrence fumes emphatically, and the teak haired man stops short in surprise. "It is very clearly not fine."

Lawrence-

It's too late. Lawrence had already gotten to his feet, hands on his hips in a way that Candace had once told him made him look his own age, in a derogatory manner. He isn't thinking about that now, though. Now all he is is vibrating at an visible frequency of second-hand outrage. Dinner first, Lawrence thinks to himself. Then he will...he will drive out, and get Perry some ice cream so they can. Can stew and Perry will eat his heart out and they can cry and rage all about this....this no-good heartbreaking bedswerving cad.

This he tells to Perry, who responds by simply burying his face back into his pillow so he could continue wallowing. Lawrence feels generous enough to let him, but he leaves the lights on as he stomps his way downstairs, where the family was happily eating dinner before they see the look on Lawrence's face.

"Dad?" Phineas asked innocently. "What happened? Where's Uncle Perry?"

"I'm afraid Uncle Perry will not be joining us for dinner tonight, boys, and will unfortunately be out of commission until spoken otherwise."

"Out of commission?" The boy gasped dramatically, kneeling on his chair. Candace and Linda had both curiously put their spoons down. "He's sick?" Phineas concludes in dismay. Ferb blinks, shocked.

"Of a sort." Lawrence answers grimly.

"Of a sort?" Candace grunts. "What kind of answer is that? He's either sick or he isn't." Her tone was haughty, skeptical, but Lawrence could hear the concern in her inflection from a mile away. Candace loved pretending she cared less than she truthfully did.

When Lawrence feels the tug on his sleeve, he turns to see Linda, who had a carefully concealed look of concern. A single flick of her eyes in the direction of Perry's room was all she needed to communicate her offer; Dinner?

Lawrence nods, then points to the car keys, hanging by the front door.

Her brow furrows further in concern, but they both know that it wasn't the right time to properly ask. She turns to back to the kids instead. "Honey, why don't you help me make a plate of dinner, and Candace can send it up to Uncle Perry?"

"I want to help send it up!"

"There shouldn't be too many people in Uncle Perry's room, dear, he might have a headache."

"Me and Ferb will be really quiet, please please please please please-,"

Lawrence leaves them to it, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Linda's temple and ruffling Ferb's hair as he makes his way out. He feels the boy's gaze follow him all the way to the door, but doesn't realize he's being followed until he turns around to shut the door behind him.

Ferb blinks expectantly.

"Oh, go inside, my boy, it's chilly! I'll just be a moment."

The boy responds by pulling a pair of mittens, and his purple bobblehead hat from his deep pockets, blinking again once he shrugs them on.

There was no talking Ferb out of something he's clearly made his mind about. Lawrence sighs, taking his hand as they walk to the garage.

"Alright," Lawrence concedes. "But promise we'll keep this between you and me, alright?"

Lawrence doesn't doubt he will. Ferb blinks eagerly in compliance.

-----

Lawrence figures the boy's figured it out, on their way home from the supermarket, cradling a chilly tub of Perry's favourite ice cream between his legs on the ride home and nothing else. He had snuck a couple packets of antibiotics and fever patches into the basket while they were out shopping, and Lawrence had awkwardly put each one of them back.

When Lawrence returns the sachet of night-time tea they both know Perry favours when he's actually sick, the boy had turned to him with such a deeply knowing look Lawrence felt busted for something he hadn't even been trying to hide, much less of any sort of trouble. The boy said nothing. He didn't have to. He reached for nothing else (save for a packet of gum from the side of the register of both his and Phineas' favourite brand) and remained perfectly well behaved for the rest of the trip.

"Now Ferb," Lawrence says warily, as they start pulling into their street. "You will have to promise me to keep this between us, not even to Phineas if he hasn't figured it out yet. Your uncle is the private sort, and I can't imagine he will want his dirty laundry waved all across town in the state that he's in. He's feeling vulnerable, you understand?"

Ferb nods firmly. Lawrence stretches out his pinky.

"Promise?"

Ferb takes it, and they shake on it like men.

"Good boy." Lawrence says proudly, once again ruffling his hair, and pulls into the driveway of the house.

Ferb rushes inside to put the tub in the freezer (Lawrence hears Phineas happy greeting from the kitchen, "Oh, there you are, Ferb." ) and Linda comes forward to take his jacket, welcoming him home with a gentle kiss. "Welcome home, stud. Found everything he needed?"

"As far as we know. Did you get to talk to him?"

"He's not in a chatty mood. Though Candace squirreled a thing or two out of him; think she figured out faster than I did."

"She's always got a good head on her shoulders." Lawrence concedes, unsurprised.

"When need be." Linda agrees, before her facade drops and he spies a glimpse of regret. "I didn't even know he was dating someone."

Much less it was anything this serious. Goes unspoken. "I'm inclined to think it's deliberate. Not that we didn't have our suspicions."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Lawrence hesitates. "Not much." He hedges, unconvincingly, from the look of his wife's face. He sighs, and triple checks that the children had dispersed their own ways out of earshot.

"He did say," Lawrence begins carefully. "That there was some matter of. Infidelity involved."

Linda gasped. "Oh, that poor man."

"Not particularly forthcoming beyond the statement."

"Do you think it's one of his...co-workers?"

Lawrence glanced at Linda with a raised brow, but she seems firm with her line of questioning. She's one step further removed from any personal knowledge of Perry's life choices, and occupation-but Lawrence could hide from her as well as blood from gauze. She knew everything he did of Perry's career, which was never much at all. Enough to go by. Enough to reassure her it wouldn't harm their children.

Lawrence had never even considered this, but now that he was, it made a terrifying amount of sense. "I'm obligated to think it might be." He acquiesced. "Might be more complicated than your run of the mill splitting sob story."

Linda hums in agreement, before tactfully changing gears. "I'll reheat your dinner. Did you get him rocky road?"

"Mint chocolate."

"Oh my."

"I'm afraid we'll have to pull out all the stops this time around."

"Maybe I'll pull out my cake pan."

-----

In the days that follow, Perry remains inconsolable.

He's mostly taken to stuffing his face in chips and junk food in front of the TV, half watching re-runs, but for a couple of hours each day the children manage to convince him to participate in their backyard projects, and Candace even manages to coax him to come with her on a trip to the mall. Perry had come home laughing, with a new pair of jeans and flip flops, raving for some obscure chinese martial arts movie they had watched together. The joviality didn't stay, but it was still such a relief to see.

On a pleasantly windy Thursday night, while they've set up a fire and a couple of beers for a Men's Night In in the backyard, Perry nudges his shoulder to tell him, lightly, that he's thinking of quitting.

Lawrence inhales his drink down the wrong tube, and practically coughs his lungs out. Perry thumps him helpfully on the back, and politely refuses to comment.

"Perry," Lawrence gasps, when he's gotten his breath back. "Perry, that's-,"

That's good, he wants to say. But was it really? Bias aside...

That's odd, seemed a bit more truthful, but what kind of response would that be? Nothing at all.

"Are you really?" Is what he ends up saying, more baffled than he meant to put out. Perry shrugs, avoiding his gaze. A moment passes as he takes a sip, and running his thumb around the circumference of the tap.

Maybe not really. Perry admits. Just. I'm getting on in years, maybe I'm not fit for any of the fieldwork I used to do in my twenties. Maybe train some recruits, let someone new take my place.

This was the longest, most honest conversation they've had surrounding Perry's career. Even compared to the one surrounding Evelyn's death, almost a decade ago now.

He knows Perry enjoys fieldwork. It's been largely implied he prodigiously excels in it. So had Evelyn. He had never begrudged her for it, not even till her very end.

Lawrence wonders what changed. He doesn't have to for very long.

The honesty in the air makes him bold, almost uncharacteristically so. "This partner of yours," he starts, careful, careful. "Who was he? To you?"

Perry smiles, a small, bitter thing.

He was everything.

------

Then one day, Perry comes home and he's...better.

Not a 180, but it's. Close. A noticeably stark difference than how he had been last night that it even puts Phineas off, but only for a moment. Mostly he was just ecstatic.

"Uncle Perry's better!" The boy cheers and giggled, dangled beneath Perry's pit like a sack of fresh loam. Ferb's hanging from the back of his shoulders, kicking happily and trying to pull himself up. The man doesn't seem to notice, or mind, the pain. "He's better! He's better! Candace look!"

Ferb manages to haul himself up to sit and wrap his legs around Perry's shoulders, and Perry grunts, reaching back to help him establish balance as he drops a wiggly Phineas back on his feet to reach his mother, chopping lentils in the kitchen.

"Perry? Oh!" Linda says, surprised as Perry swoops in to plant a kiss on her cheek. She giggles, and pinches his. "Welcome home, you blasted rouge. Are you going to help me with dinner?"

Perry responds by taking over chopping duties, pulling the board closer to himself and stealing away her knife to commence vegetable slicing duties. His speed, and the nonchalance that accompanies it-despite the heavy burden around his shoulders, swinging his legs- was almost terrifying, but Linda barely notices. She's reaching for her phone by the cooking stove, sending her husband a red alert. Perry was whistling.

"I gather you had a pretty good day at work, huh?" She muses, half-serious.

He gives her a cheeky one-shouldered shrug, eyes rolling up. His smile dimples. Maybe.

She's practically burning with curiousity, but knows that now wasn't the time to ask. "Well, I'm making braised chicken. Why don't you help me with the asparagus? Ferb, sweetie, you want to get down and help me with seasoning the chicken breast?"

"Oh, but mom!! Asparagus makes Ferb farts so stinky!" Phineas complains.

"It also makes your farts stinky, mister. Now go help Perry pre-heat the oven."

-----

After dinner, Lawrence drops by again. In contrast to the state of things when the trouble began, his room is well-lit, and instead of resting, Perry's at his desk with his reading glasses, and a stack of documents he folds and puts away, out of sight, before he lets Lawrence in with a warm chitter.

As if the last few days never happened at all.

Lawrence has been witness to something like this a few times before, but it never gets any less off-putting, to realize he was so distant from the heat of things -the state, the conflict- and being privy only to the resolution.

Perry had been cheated on, by a man who meant everything. And now?

"Just wanted to check on how things were going." He says, closing the door behind him. "The kids were telling me you're feeling a lot better."

Perry, confoundingly, began to blush, looking down at his pen, rolled and fidgeted between his fingers. I am, he tells Lawrence. Wish I could say it was a huge misunderstanding, even if it was, a little bit. We just never put it into words, what we were, and I think it never occurred to us how much it would hurt, for him to have done what he did.

Perry put down his pen, picked it back up again, uses it to scratch the back of his nape as he looks at Lawrence a little bashfully. Then he puts the pen back down. It surprised me too, that I took to it as bad as I did. What we had was something...special. I didn't realize...

Lawrence looked at him intensely, arms crossed. When he determines Perry had nothing else to say, he asked -what he knew to be- the most important question of all. "And did he apologize?"

Perry smiles. It dimples. This time, it's directed at Lawrence himself, instead of a special man in the distant mind. He did. Perry signs.

"And he meant it?"

As much as he could.

"Well," Lawrence proclaims brusquely. He's trying to sound stern, but the undeniable lovesick smile on Perry was contagious. "So long as he doesn't do it again...,"

Oh, Perry signs ominously. He won't.

Lawrence finally lets himself smile, echoing the childish joy on his brother-in-law's face. "Well," he chuckles. "Then I suppose that's all that matters, doesn't it?"

Perry concedes with an affectionate roll of his eyes, but when Lawrence comes forward to hug him, he returns it right back tenfold.

Thank you, he signs meaningfully.

"You're family, Perry." Lawrence replies, with a shake of his head. "What slights you is a slight to all of us, and your joy is ours. Family sticks together."

It's an old catchphrase of a woman long gone, beyond what's left of her in both their hearts, and Perry tears up. Though he plays it off with a dismissive sniffle, and a bump of their shoulders.

You can be just as insufferable as she was. He signs, more affectionately than he wants to pretend to be. His tone shifts, grows bashful again.

Lawrence, he signs. Slow, hesitant. Do you think....if things ever....and I brought him over to meet...would you...like...?

The implications of Perry's broken up request was as strong as a punch to his gut, and Lawrence fears he might have lost his cool in his eagerness. "Of course we will!" He restrains himself to a stage whisper. He fears he would wake the neighbourhood in excitement, otherwise. "Perry, of course we will. I'll...we'll be honoured, my boy."

He means it too, and Perry could tell. His smile was blinding, and his blush had spread brighter than his skin tone, all across the bridge of his nose. You have to be cool about it. He makes Lawrence promise.

"Oh, totally." Lawrence reassures him. He's putting it on a little bit, on account of it making Perry laugh. "Chill. 100 percent-o. Call me liquid nitrogen the fact that I am lighter than air. I am pre-emptively cooling a block of ice. Call me Fro-zone the way I'm-,"

Get out, Perry demands. Barely. He's also doubled over in laughter. Oh my god, just get out before you make me regret this.

"Getting out!" Lawrence complies with a salute, and dashes out the room. He can still hear Perry chuckling as he closes the door behind him. His cheeks ache from his grin. All better, indeed.

Flushed with triumph and good tidings, he embarks on a mission to find his wife and share the wonderful news.

#heinz doofenshmirtz #perryshmirtz #human perry #phineas and ferb #choice of fic

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highwaywhump · 7 days

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What was the first forbidden thing your boxie oc tried in freedom? Or, if they haven't yet, what would they try if they could?

For Joey?

- sara / @justplainwhump

(way into the future)

Joey's pulse was racing the whole time and for several hours after, but it was driven by wonderful exhilaration, not crippling fear.

Aaron bid him goodbye in the kitchen in the morning, Joey was still dressed in his pajama pants and the hood of his soft, well-worn hoodie pulled halfway over his head. He nursed a fresh cup of coffee and nodded sleepily along as Aaron squuezed his shoulder and told him he'd be back home in time for dinner - Marla was coming too and she'd bring her special recipe marinated chicken (which she once had confided in Joey was mostly garlic and smoked paprika).

"See you then," Aaron said and picked up his briefcase by the shoulder strap.

"See ya," Joey yawned, and when he finished, the door was already closed behind his keeper.

He let the feigned sleepiness disappear immediately. His hands were shaking and it wasn't the caffeine.

He was so quick up the stairs that his long healed ankle smarted. He never minded as he pulled off his hoodie and pajamas, quickly finding the pair of jeans - new, never properly used, but still had all the right wrinkles and light spots - in his closet. By his door, new sneakers with dazzlingly white soles. Then, a fresh hoodie and as quickly as he had come up, he flew down the stairs again.

In the hallway, he stopped, breathed, clenched and unclenched his hands.

In a dish on a teak chest of drawers lay several sets of keys. Joey located the one he wanted with his eyes before he reached for it. A single nondescript metal key, solitarily placed on an empty ring. Not even a keyring to go along with it.

Gingerly, taking care to not let the metal make any sound, he pulled it out of the bunch. As if he wasn't home alone and would be continue to for the next eight hours.

Suddenly, he had separated it from the others. Cold metal in his hand, his to wield. He cupped it in both hands and held it close to his chest for a moment, before turning to the door in the kitchen that led to the garage.

Aaron was in an unreasonably good mood as he pulled in the long driveway up to his house. It looked silent and desolate, as usual, but he knew somewhere inside was his little ward, listening through his old records or on the phone with Marla (and probably mostly listening to her, too).

"Joey?" he called as he stepped inside, putting down a bag of groceries. "I got that brand of soda that you like, Fizz-something. They didn't have peach, so I got lemon - hi."

"Hi."

Aaron found Joey sitting by the kitchen island as he rounded the corner and entered the room. He seemed to be almost trembling with energy, his lips pressed tightly together. For a short, short moment, Aaron was worried. This manner was so new. Joey was normally pulled back, careful. But now he had a shining glint in his eyes.

Aaron's gaze moved away from his face and down to the counter in front of him. There was a paper bag with a familiar logo and a paper cut with a straw in.

"Did you order in?" Aaron asked as he set down his briefcase and tried to recall when he'd taught him how to do that. Maybe Marla had at some point.

"No," Joey shook his head and bit his lip, to stop what Aaron now could see was a smile trying to break free.

"Did you..." Aaron tried again, not sure what to say. The fast food place was relatively close, but still quite a walk.

"I drove," Joey finally beamed. He gets crow's feet when he smiles this wide, Aaron noticed in the back of his mind.

"You- drove-?" he stuttered, and raced through the possibilities in his mind. He had taken his own car to work, so he must have used the green vintage thing that had taken up space in his garage for three years.

"Please don't be mad," Joey said softly, and his eyes were big now, immediately worried at the lack of reassurance.

"I'm not! I'm not mad," Aaron hurried to put him at ease. He stepped forwards and offered his open arms, that wordless invitation that had become second nature a long time ago. Joey leaned towards him and let himself be enveloped.

"I'm not mad, I promise," Aaron muttered into his dark hair, and he could feel the tension bleed out of Joey's muscles. "I just- you can drive stick?"

Joey nodded against his shoulder. "I guess I do," he whispered gleefully.

Again he bit his lip so as not break the moment. Ten months ago, the mere thought of leaving the house without getting the explicit permission and order to do so, would have been unthinkable. And today he had sat in the driver's seat of a car, all alone, not even thinking about how to use a gear shift. Just falling back on past muscle memory that the memory wipe couldn't take from him.

Neither moved for a long moment, save Aaron's hand making large circles on his back.

"And she runs?" he eventually asked.

"Purred like a cat."

all the small things too of course, like using the furniture and saying (carefully, politely) no to things. but one day getting into a car, going down to the sleepy fast food place where the interstate meets main street, order something and then leave again - not telling anyone where he was going, not feeling like he has to tell anyone at all - that was the first 'illegal' thing. aaron didn't say it here but he would like to know if, when and where joey goes. at least as long as he still has that barcode tattoo.

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps @whumplr-reader @considerablecolors @dustypinetree @snakebites-and-ink @inkstainsonmyhands12 @taterswhump @hxakfhakbcbqkk i'm sorry if i forget anyone, shoot me a dm!

#i've read a lot of fanfic lately and i feel it has influenced my writing #not saying that fanfic is bad #my screentime is would attest to my love of fanfic actually #but there are a lot of run on sentences #cw past conditioning #sorry if this didn't make any sense

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yanderedreaming · 2 years

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Descent into darkness

Pairings: Reader x Chrollo Lucilfer

Warnings: Slow burn obsession, possessive, Yandere behaviour, perverted thoughts, mentions of sex, masturbation.

Summary: Chrollo slowly dwindles in obsession when he falls for the one woman who he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with, the question is, does she?

Word count: 8.4k

MDNI

There were only two things that were dear to Chrollo Lucilfer in his life, the phantom troupe and Y/n, the woman he fell head over heels for. Chrollo could remember the first time he saw her, the memory still fresh in his mind.

It was after his entire ordeal with that dreaded chain user, Chrollo wondered around the busy streets of York New city to spend his time away from the troupe, unable to use his nen ability, he didn’t have much to keep him entertained. Chrollo wasn’t the type of person to look at the bright side, the only thing he could do was to live his life until the members of the troupe found a nen exorcist to help get his nen back.

His days were passing by slowly, occupying the top floor of a pent house in one of the most luxurious buildings in York New city, he would spend most of his time reading books in his study. Although he was quite fond of reading and did appreciate the time he was able to spend doing so, he got bored of it quickly, he was too used to living an exhilarating life filled with crime.

In an out of character moment of his, Chrollo decided to visit one of the most famous and exclusive bars in the city, the type where entry was granted on the basis of our outfit, and the drinks far too expensive for any 9-5 worker to afford. The reason for choosing this specific bar was nothing more than wanting to try something new, perhaps observe the elite class a bit closely, he might even find someone to steal from when he got his nen back. Thinking about the bar got him craving a drink, remembering the days the troupe would get together and have a celebratory drink after each heist.

He dressed up in sleek black suit, tailor made for him, with a white button down shirt and black tie. He chose the safest option, not wanting to stand out too much, hoping to blend into the crowd looking for unsuspecting rich women to talk to and get to know, maybe finding the one he would steal from later on.

As he arrived at the bar, the door man eyed him carefully from top to toe, perhaps determining his net worth based on the clothes he wore. The tailor made suit from Paris paired with his Italian baby crocodile skin shoes screamed rich to the door man who stepped to the side to let him in.

Everything from the Teak wooden doors, to the Murano glass sculptures which must’ve appreciated in value over time, probably cost more than the average worker could’ve made in a year. The bar was average sized, an empty space occupying the centre, with the bar counter on the very end of the room, booths surrounding the bar.

Chrollo made his way to the bar counter, sitting on the bar stool in front of him, eyeing the various high end bottles of whiskey on display, his eyes stopped at a bottle of John E. Fitzgerald 20 year old bourbon. He never had the opportunity to try this one, due to the limited amount of bottles that were released. Each glass would cost him around $80.

He sipped took a moment to admire the bourbon in the glass, to the unsuspecting eye, it looked just like any other regular whiskey. The only thing that could distinguish it was the taste, and boy was it good. It was the smoothest tasting whiskey he’d ever tried, the initial flavour of stewed plums mixed with caramel were over taken by the delectable aftertaste of bitter dark chocolate and dried tobacco.

He savoured every sip, careful not to drink it too fast, the mild almost sherry tasting flavour didn’t change the fact that the alcohol content was rather high, a few glasses could render him drunk and senseless. If there was one thing Chrollo did not like, it was not being in control, so drinking too much was always out of the question.

Having taken his sweet time to admire the drink in his hand, he turned around to scan the floor, eyeing each and every guest in there. Women dressed in long gowns, their necks adorned with the finest diamonds one could ever see. The men wearing the finest suits, each suit, more expensive than the other. It was here that he couldn’t differentiate between the many men and women around as they all had the same look on their faces, they all shared the same snooty expressions as they chatted away, their conversations intended to one up the other, all flaunting off their wealth.

Chrollo hated such people, who really did nothing in their lives, and just pranced around flaunting their vast riches. Nothing sensible coming out of their mouths, nothing soft about their faces. The look of arrogance plastered across each and every one of their faces. Although he was a skilled actor, and an even better thief, having to act like the perfect gentleman in front of these pompous bastards was not the ideal way for him to spend his evenings, but none the less, he loved what he did, and right now he had to charm his way into their beds.

From the corner of his eye, he saw someone exiting a door, most probably the rest room and making their way to the floor of the bar. Chrollo was great at reading people, a single look could tell him what was on their mind and what type of a person they were. He could determine with one look that this woman was different from the rest.

She was no doubt beautiful, a certain elegance to her as she walked over to a group of women and men standing in the exact centre of the floor. Her face was soft, her [eye colour and shape] has a slight glint to them. Her [hair colour, type and length] was let loose, falling over her shoulders framing her delicate face. She was dressed differently from the rest of them too, her green satin dress hugged the upper part of her body quite well, before flaring out slightly, a large slit on the right side of the dress gave him a view of her [the type of legs you have].

Her jewellery was not as loud as the ones that the other women wore, rather it was quite delicate, no doubt it was expensive, but it was an appropriate size, not calling for any attention. Perhaps her pretty face was more than enough to get all the attention she needed. Chrollo chose to listen in to the conversation, seeing as they weren’t too far away from him, he wanted to know whether his observations were correct.

“Mrs. Jameson, have you thought about my proposal?” she asked, her voice delicate and sincere. “Miss. [last name], I’m not too sure I’d want to invest in something that does not reap any benefits for me.” the lady she was talking to replied, her voice was filled with arrogance. “Oh, I think the good feeling you’ll get should be more than enough!” she chucked slightly before continuing, “But a 5 percent return is the most I can promise you. Would you consider it, at least?” She sounded earnest, as though it was something she wanted dearly.

“Ms. [last name], you’re looking as beautiful as ever tonight.” A man came up from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, she shifted uncomfortably, the man was occupying too much of her personal space, “Ah, Mr. Hill. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” she replied, you could tell she was uncomfortable by the way she spoke. “I wouldn’t have missed seeing your beautiful self for the world, and I told you to call me Pariston” he said, rubbing her shoulder and taking a step closer to her, she took a step back, trying to get him to stop touching her and replied, “Well, I should get going. My boyfriend will be here any minute now.” she laughed nervously.

“Y/n, We all know you don’t have a boyfriend, why don’t you just accept my offer. Go out with me, and I’ll help you with your project. We all win?” the man said tightening his grip on her shoulder, leaning in to whisper something inaudible in her ear. Her eyes widened, and she shot him a look of disgust.

Chrollo’s legs guided him to her, for some reason he couldn’t help but get annoyed at the way this man was invading the personal space of a woman who was clearly uncomfortable. “Excuse me.” Chrollo spoke, the man turned to look at him, and the Y/n used this opportunity to try to squirm out of the man’s grasp but he made sure not to let her go. “Yes?” the man asked visibly annoyed at the interference.

“Could you refrain from touching her?” Chrollo said with a rather authoritative tone, the man turned to look at Y/n, who was doe eyed internally thanking the man for finally saying something, the other patrons couldn’t have cared less. “Is something the matter?” Pariston asked his tongue clicking in annoyance. “Yes, it is. I don’t appreciate the casual way you’re touching my girlfriend.” he replied with a stern look. His eyes darted to the girl who had a hopeful look on her face, her mouth curling upwards seeing her saviour.

“Girlfr-” Pariston was cut off by the girl, “Yes, Girlfriend. Now if you leave me.” she said stepping to Chrollo’s side now that Pariston’s grip loosened on her. “Huh. I always thought you were making up the whole boyfriend thing.” He said, with a smile which betrayed his bitter tone. “Well then, I’ll leave you be.” he said walking off.

Chrollos eyes never left his form, he stared at Pariston with disgust, such an impeccable man. Men who cannot respect women were on top of the list of things Chrollo hated. “Thank you.” the girl whispered, her face turned to him. “Its not a problem Y/n. Do you wish to stay? or shall I walk you out?” he asked. She paused to think for a second, scanning the floor to see if she could find someone who might be interested in her venture, seeing none she responded with, “I think I’m just going to leave.”

“Well then, let me walk you out.” Chrollo said extending his arm to allow her to grab it as they walked out of the bar, her hand linked to his arm, as the other patrons turned to their direction watching them walk away.

“Um, I never got your name.”

“Its Chrollo. Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Chrollo? That’s a unique name, what does it mean?” She asked, tilting her head to the side to watch him for his response. Her inquisitive eyes scanned his face, admiring his features. “I don’t know actually.” he responded with a smile. She let out a small “Oh” before both of them walked a little in silence.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with those people.” he continued, “What project are you working on?” Y/n clicked her tongue with a smile on her face, remembering how all her efforts went to waste, she didn’t manage to get a single investor. “Well, I’m trying to build a few orphanages in some impoverished areas.” she exhaled her breath and continued, “Its just unfair. How these children get left behind and they have to fend for themselves. I just hate it. I want to help them out, you know?”

Chrollo turned to look at her, her bright eyes were now dull, she was no longer smiling and was facing the ground. “That’s really nice of you actually.” he smiled at her, it felt good knowing that there were people out there who cared for the underserved community, he could relate to everything those children would go through. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you let me buy you dinner, and you can bring forth your proposal to me. I’d love to hear more about it.”

Her sad demeaner changed at once, she looked up at him with her bright doe eyes, a glint of hope in them. She smiled, biting her lip before saying, “On one condition.” Chrollo chuckled and said, “So you’re setting conditions? What’s the condition then?” she hummed before responding, “Yes. I am. You have to let me buy you dinner. Its only fair. I owe you a big thanks for saving me from that creep anyway!” Chrollo smiled and nodded.

The restaurant she chose was a classy one, she claimed the food was the best food she had ever tasted and the ambiance was nice and quiet. The two occupied a table close to the window, a view of the skyline of York New city was visible from where they were seated. “So, I’ve narrowed down about 9 locations where I’d like to start building the orphanages. I’ve already completed about 8 with the money I had. But I’m in need of more for the last one.”

She paused to take a sip of her red wine, while he listened intently, she then went to explain the structure of each orphanages and how she plans to fund them. Going in depth to talk about the facilities the orphanages provided to the kids, and how the children could stay there, even if they didn’t get adopted, until they were old enough and well educated enough to move out.

Chrollo listened in fascination to her plans, they were well thought out and focused more on the kids than anything, the security checks she conducted on the ‘house mothers’ of the orphanage. Sharing her success stories from the 8 that had been in operation since the past 6-8 months. Her current income went to fund those and she couldn’t afford to build the last one as of yet.

“My father and I are currently engaged in a legal battle for the property I inherited. Its quite a long story but my grandfather left me half of his assets, I wanted to put that money to good use, even sold a building or two for the orphanages. My father, went to court and well, all my property’s been seized till the battle ends, their lawyer keeps on dragging it out, its so frustrating!” she was a little tipsy by now, the alcohol allowed her to open up quite a bit. “So, what caused the delay of the final orphanage?” Chrollo asked, she talked about how a certain thing delayed her plans for the final one.

She pursed her lips, thinking of whether she should speak up or not, afraid she might scare him away with the location. She took a deep breath and exhaled, a forced smile was on her lips, as she replied hesitantly, her head turned to the right, to face the window looking at the skyline. “The location- well, its uh” she paused, her hand made its way to the back of her neck to rub it.

“Its this really small place, it used to be an internment camp set up by a dictator about a few hundred years ago. Since then its used as a dumping ground. Now the complicated thing here is that, the citizens there really don’t have an identity.” Chrollo’s eyes slightly widened, he knew she was talking about his home, “Meteor City?” he asked and she nodded in response.

“There were two problems with Meteor City. The first was the fact that essentially putting money into such a place would put me in danger, the mafia wouldn’t be too pleased with the idea.” he nodded, it was a known fact that the people of the city had been shunned, dubbed terrorists and criminals for the suicide bombings that a few of them carried out a few years ago.

“The second being the fact that the city is run as a gerontocracy. The leaders were apprehensive of an outsider wanting to make a change. Well, to be totally honest with you, they’re not entirely convinced as of yet either. But I know I can convince them” she said followed by a somehow which came out more as a whisper than anything.

He said nothing, just stared at her for a few seconds to try and understand her motivations, after a few seconds he could understand they were nothing but selfless.“I understand.” he nodded, glancing up to look at her. She was still staring out the window, her lips stained red and plumpy due to the red wine she was drinking, some how he couldn’t stop staring at her, he couldn’t help but feel something.

“I’ll win the legal battle eventually. My father just wants me demotivate me by dragging it on. He wants me to lose hope.” her voice was low as she said this, it was evident she was hurt by his actions, suddenly her voice picked up, it sounded determined as she said, “I won’t lose hope. I’ll do whatever I can.” she turned to face him before finishing, “I’ll pay every last penny with interest, I’ve got some jewellery that my mother left me so if anything, I’ll just sell it.” She had a fierce and determined look in her eyes, she wanted to accomplish something, she wanted to help others.

Chrollo couldn’t but help admire her resolve. “Well, I’m sold.” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Wait. What?” she looked confused, she didn’t expect him to say that given his silence stance during most of the conversation. “

“I can’t help but admire you Y/n. I think its great that you’re taking such a risk to help others so I’ll help you. Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it done.” She extended her hands to grab one of his hands, taking them into her own holding them up. “Thank you. I’ll repay every single penny. You can even keep my jewellery as collateral!”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” he said, taking his other hand to place it on the one grabbing his own. He thought it would be a good time to tell her about his humble beginnings, how he originated from Meteor City and was just like one of the orphans she so desperately wanted to help. For the first time in his life, someone from her class looked at him with awe and excitement as he recalled his life story- leaving out the part where he was a Class A criminal of course- usually people would have either a look of pity, or a look of fear, but no. She didn’t have that look, nothing but pure awe as he spoke.

As the months passed, Chrollo spent more and more of his time with Y/n, he enjoyed every single minute he spent with her. The way her face would light up when he would come up with a good idea, the way she would talk to him about a broad range of topics, and how she made him feel so warm and carefree. She was rubbing off on him.

The total opposite of him, is she was the light then he was the dark, if she was the sun, then he was the moon. She was everything Chrollo wanted to be. Despite the troubles she faced in life, she was optimistic, despite all the problems she faced, she always looked at the brighter side, despite having every reason to lose it, she chose to channel her energy into something positive. He never knew what love was, but he could tell he was slowly falling in love with her.

At first, he couldn’t understand why he wanted to see her more and more, every time he would leave her place he felt a certain emptiness wash over him he attributed that to his boredom. He could no longer read in peace, because everything reminded him of her, every novel where the protagonist would have a lover, he couldn’t help but picture her as the heroine.

Food would taste better when he was with her, everything seemed brighter, the things that would annoy him didn’t anymore, the people around him would blend in with the background when he was with her, he never noticed anything but her. He started to crave her presence, his nights would feel lonely, his days were far more exciting. Chrollo was now a day person, he would wake up full of anticipation everyday, rushing to get dressed to see her. He knew this wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t until he walked into her penthouse one fine day when he realised he was falling for her. She was sat on her living room sofa, her face red, her eyes filled with tears. Seeing her like this distressed him and he ran over to her, he stood right in front of her, bending down to her eye level, he placed his left hand on her hands, his right hand touched the side of her cheek. She looked up to meet his eyes, her trembling lips holding back a sob.

“Y/n, are you okay? Please tell me what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” he asked, his voice trembling hundreds of scenarios running through his mind, each one worse than the other. “C-Ch-Chrollo” she finally spoke, she could no longer hold back, she fell forward, her trembling hands went to hold onto his arms as her head leaned forward to bury it in his chest.

He could tell she wanted a hug, so he pulled her close, placing one hand on the back of her head, the other placed on her back rubbing soothing circles on it. “Y/n, please tell me what’s wrong. Please stop crying.” his voice was laced with concern, the person who wasn’t afraid of death, was deathly afraid for the first time in his life. Her gut wrenching sobs tore through his chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. She was strong, never let anything get to her. Something big must’ve happened to make her feel like this. Feeling Chrollo’s warm embrace calmed her down slightly, she began to speak.

“I lost.” she was sobbing once again, he pulled her out of the hug and grabbed her face with his hands to look into her eyes, his forehead started to crease, the uneasy feeling not subsiding. “Y/n what did you lose? Please, I can’t bear to see you cry.” It was true, every time he heard her sob, every time he saw another tear stream down his face, he would feel a pang in his heart, he felt helpless, unable to stop her from crying.

“Th-the legal b-battle” she turned her eyes away from him, a sense of relief came over him, although he hated seeing her cry, he was sort of relieved that she wasn’t hurt. “Y/n, its alright. Please just stop crying. I promise you we’ll figure it out. I won’t leave you alone, it doesn’t matter if you lost money. You’ll always have a roof over your head and everything you need, I’ll make sure of it.” Hearing his words didn’t comfort her, instead let out another sob turning her head to the side before speaking.

“I’ll get by. But the kids? what will they do? How will I repay-” Chrollo cut her off, he wiped the tears away and pulled her into a tight hug kissing the top of her head, “I told you. I won’t leave you when you need me. I’ll do it, I’ll do everything you need. Just please, stop crying.” It was painful to see her like this. All he could do now was embrace her and let the torrent of her tears soak through his shirt.

Her hands made their way to his back, she deepened the hug shaking her head. “No, I can’t let you do that for me.” her voice was stifled as her head was buried in his chest. “I’ll do anything for you.” He never once thought while speaking to her during this conversation, everything he was saying just came out. His heart was doing the talking for the first time in a while.

He felt the need to be there for her, he felt the need to protect her against the world. He wanted her to smile again, her to shed tears except for tears of joy. “Chrollo, I-” he cut her off, he couldn’t take it anymore. He just wanted to see her smile again. “I love you Y/n.”

Her breath hitched when she heard him say this, she forgot about everything in that moment, the only thing she cared about were the words that left his mouth. She opened her mouth to speak, but held her tongue. Not wanting to say anything at the moment. No, not right now. Not like this. She knew the moment wasn’t right.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Chrollo regretted saying them. Not because he didn’t mean them-he did- but because he didn’t know how she felt. He didn’t stop to think about the impact of such heavy words. His mind has been over powered by his heart, the sight he saw before him dulled his senses and he just blurted it out.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He said, after a few moments has passed, not hearing any words coming out of her mouth hurt him. It made him angry, why? When he finally knew for sure he loved someone, why didn’t they return the feeling? He chose not to showcase his anger, fearing it would push her away, swallowing it.

He slowly pulled away from her, defeated, his words put them in an awkward position. Her eyes were staring off to the side, not making any eye contact. He sighed, knowing he had just opened up Pandora's box, the way way through it was to just say it, there was no going back now.

He closed his eyes and let his heart take over for one last time, “I really do love you. I’ve never felt this way before. I look forward to spending time with you, its the only thing that gets me up in the morning.” He paused to take a breath, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, but at the same time he heart sank with each word he spoke.

“I don’t care if you don’t return my feelings. It won’t make me look at you any different. I’ll still stick by you through it all.” He partially spoke the truth, he wouldn’t ever leave you, but he lied about not caring. He did care, he wanted you to return the feelings, to love him back, to be his.

“I care about you. I do. But I don’t think I should say anything considering the state of mind i’m in.” she replied, he did give her that warm feeling in her chest. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time, but she had far too much going on to think about him in that sense.

“It’s alright Y/n. Hey! Look at me” he said as he turned her head to look at him, her eyes hesitant to look into his, worried she might see the pain he was trying to hide in his voice.

“I’ve thought about it and we could always file an appeal. I know this really great lawyer and i’ll get him to work on the case. Just leave it all to me and focus on your work. You can trust me” he smiled, his eyes were shining, perhaps because of the tears that were slowly forming in them.

Chrollo was not one to cry, he can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s cried, and almost all of them have been when he lost someone he cared for, to him, he was losing you, but he would make sure that would never happen and he was sure as hell he would come close to crying if he didn’t leave.

“I’ve gotta head back now. But please, smile for me before I leave?” he asked, rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Her lips trembled, slowly forming a smile, tilting her head to rest it on the palm of his hand that was placed on the side of her face. She closed her eyes and let out a small laugh, her forced smile turning genuine.

Chrollo left her penthouse. As soon as he closed the door of it, he couldn’t leave the door handle, his grip was not loosening and his legs weren’t cooperating. He didn’t want to go back, he wanted to stay with her. But he knew he had to let his head take over once again, no more thinking with the heart.

He spend the rest of the day going over every little detail, trying to understand when and where it all went wrong. He thought she must’ve felt the same way, she was always kind to him. Told him how much she enjoyed his company, would call him at night when he left. They also flirted quite a bit, perhaps unintentionally on her part.

For the first time in his life, Chrollo had let lose. He was starting to feel like a normal person, and just as normal people did, he stopped being so calculative, he stopped plotting every aspect of life and just let loose. This was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

She didn’t call him that night, he shifted uncomfortably in his bed the entire night, glancing to his side, thinking maybe his phone was on Do not disturb mode, no she was in his in his favourites. Any notification from her could bypass that. Maybe his ringer wasn’t on? No it still was. She just didn’t call him. His mind told him not to reach out to her either, not after he poured his entire heart out to her, not until he had a solid strategy to make her his.

He places his thumb and ring finger over his temples, rubbing it in circular motions trying to think of something else, he didn’t like the feeling of waiting. He grew so used to her voice, he grew used to their late night phone calls till he could hear all the energy drained out of her, as her voice would change from the usual chirpy one, to the tired deep one.

How beautiful it sounds when she’s almost asleep, the fatigue in her voice as she shifts in her bed, the way she would groan trying to find the right position on her bed to fall asleep.

He started to feel a little something while thinking of her voice, he started to feel a lot more when he had a mental image of her trying to go to sleep, shifting in her sleep, as her satin nighty would ride up exposing her soft things. How she would push her chest into the pillow she hugged for comfort, perhaps she would do more to it.

Chrollo’s hand made its way down to his pants and he started to touch his throbbing cock, he closed his eyes and stroked it, imagining it was her tight cunt that was gripping it rather than his hand. Her sultry eyes looking at him as he ploughed into her, eyebrows ceasing as she bit her lip, telling him she couldn’t take it anymore. Imagining her tits bouncing with each thrust.

He groaned as the mental picture he developed was perfection, he used his thumb to rub the underside of his tip, tightening his hold on his cock while pumping it faster trying to find relief. Recalling how she would say his name right before she went to sleep, how his same sounded so perfect coming out of her mouth. How he craved her to scream his name, moan his name, while staring at him with her sultry eyes begging for more.

The final thought of her taking him so well had him coming, with a loud groan he spilled his seed out on his hand, his eyes shot open to see nothing but darkness in front of him. He had been alone his entire life, he never shared his bed with anyone, but he knew he waited all this time for the right person, and sure enough he found her and there was no way he was going to let go of her now.

The next day, Chrollo had an early start to his day. Waking up at 7 am he got out of bed immediately, stripping himself of his clothes and stepping into the piping hot shower. He let the water run over him for a while, soap in hand rubbing it over his torso. The thoughts of the conversation they had still fresh in his mind.

He knew he was going to go see her today, he had to act mature about the situation, he had to act like her ideal man. He was already hiding his true authentic self from her, he just needed to change his approach slightly to attract her more.

He dressed a little differently today, opting out of his usual T shirt and jeans combo to wear a white button down shirt that fitted him well, the contours of his muscles visible through the fabric, leaving the top two buttons undone to showcase the top part of his chest. He wore it with black trousers and black loafers.

His hair was met down, no product used whatsoever, she often told him she admired the way his loose hair would frame his face. The first compliment she ever gave him. He picked up his perfume, the one she came by while visiting a department store, thinking it would suit him, she gifted it to him. The first gift she ever gave him.

Taking a final look in the mirror, Chrollo grabbed his phone and car keys before heading out to her place. He wouldn’t pretend as if yesterday never happened, living in denial was not an attractive thing. He wouldn’t bring it up, waiting to see if she would. He knew the only way she would bring it up would be if she felt the same, if she didn’t he just needed to work his magic.

He played a few of her favourite tracks on the way, reminiscing the time she grabbed his phone to add to his Spotify playlist. The songs weren’t his type, but they grew on him so much so that it’d be the only music he’d hear during his drives over to her.

Upon reaching bed penthouse, Chrollo rang the bell, listening for her footsteps to make it over to the door. When he didn’t hear them he started to grow anxious, tapping his foot on the marble floor he was standing on. Looking down at his watch he saw it was 9:50 am. She would wake around 8, so she should’ve been up and about by now. He rang the bell once more, this time he heard shuffling behind the door till it finally opened.

As the door unlocked and opened he could see she was still half asleep. She hadn’t changed out of her satin night suit and her eyes were half open. She probably didn’t get a good nights sleep, he thought.

“Chrollo, Hey! Come on in” she said trying to sound enthusiastic as she gave him space to enter. “I’m sorry did I wake you?” He asked, stepping in. “No no, I just couldn’t sleep. Getting out of bed proved to be quite the challenge for me today” she said with a laugh, making her way to the living room couch where the two of them sat.

“I had a talk with Mr. Hill last night” she said, jumping right into it. His face remained neutral, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous at the mention of another man’s name. Especially one who has been trying to pursue Y/n since the past 3 years, according to her.

“Oh? What did the two of you talk about?” She turned her face away from his direction looking directly ahead. Chrollo picked up on this little habit of hers, he knew she would only do this when she was nervous.

“He heard about the case. So he came by yesterday and offered some help.” She said, his eyes narrowed at her statement. He knew she wasn’t looking at him, she could never look someone in the eye when she was nervous about what she was saying.

“And?”

“He said he had obtained a recording of my father that basically would throw away his entire case if it were to be played in court.”

“What did he want in return?” Chrollo knew that a man like Pariston would not help anyone out on a whim, there had to be more to his offer. If he didn’t tell her what he wanted in return, he’d surely use the favour to his advantage to get closer to her and he could not risk that happening.

“He said he wanted to uh spend some time with me in return.” She bit her lip closing her eyes, she didn’t want to tell him this, not that she owed him anything, they weren’t dating. But she wanted him to say something, wanted him to offer up a solution. She knew if she liked someone, it was Chrollo.

His fist formed into a ball when he heard this, his eyes slightly widened upon hearing what Pariston wanted in return. He was slowly losing his cool. He knew she was beautiful, she checked all the boxes of perfection. An aristocratic girl, belonging to one of the richest families in the country. Her kind heart and caring soul were enough to make anyone fall in love with her. Her looks were enough to draw any man in.

“So; what do you want to do then.” He said, his twitching eyes fixated on his own fingers which were tapping away at the edge of the sofa. Something in him snapped that very moment, it was hard to keep his cool, but he tried his best.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I won’t let you do it.” He said, facing downwards not wanting to make eye contact with her as he looked at his fingers. He was done playing the nice guy, it got him nowhere. He expected her to tell him how she told him off, instead she said she didn’t know what to do?

Thats’s the thing with love, its unpredictable. You just cannot plan for it, you cannot stick to a plan when your heart takes the lead. Chrollo had the perfect plan to make her fall in love with him, but when he felt as if he was about to lose the woman he loved, he lost his composure.

“What do you mean you won’t le-”

“I said, I won’t let him have you.” He said looking up at her, his eyes were cold, a dark expression on his face. Chrollo had a lot of firsts with her. The first time he broke out of his façade was with her, the first time he craved the company of someone was with her, the first time he fell in love was with her, and the first time he ever let his heart take over was with her. He wasn’t going to back down so easily, no he would take what was his, and he had decided, she was going to be his.

She was silent, the dark look on his face rendered her speechless. She kept her eyes on him, specifically his hands, not wanting to look at his face any longer, the Chrollo she knew was not like this.

“Chrollo, I didn’t say I wanted to date him o-or sleep with him or whatever he meant by spending some time with him. I’m sorry if its a sensitive topic for you, I just find myself feeling at ease whenever I discuss a problem with you.”

He got up from the sofa, and stayed standing, his eyes fixated on her. She felt a lot smaller now that he was standing over her, she felt uneasy with all the staring.

“You don’t need your inheritance. I have enough for us and to keep your orphanage going.” he said with a bitter tone. He felt annoyed at the impact she had on him, just a night before he had decided to con his way into her heart, but the sudden news foiled all his plans, he was unable to control his emotions and he hated it.

“F-For us?” she stuttered.

“Yes. For us.” he said as a matter of fact. Chrollo was a thief at heart, and he was going to steal the most important treasure he’s ever laid eyes on, her.

He bent down to grab her hands, he held onto them tight enough to squeeze them slightly, but not enough to hurt her. His expression was a soft and kind one now. She was astonished at how he could change his entire aura, his expressions in a split second. How he could put on a kind face after a sudden outburst.

Something about the soft look on his face made her think that maybe he was back in his senses, maybe it was just a sudden outburst and he’s calm now. In reality, Chrollo knew he had gone too far, he had to put on a show. He couldn’t risk showing this side of him, the side that was cold, ruthless and unforgiving.

“Chrollo, I’m not going to do it. I just know you’re like really smart and that you could come up with a solution. I’m sorry for upsetting you, i’m stupid. I know” she decided to change the topic, not wanting to talk about what he had just said. It was a dangerous topic, one she wanted to avoid.

“And you won’t have to, my love. I’ll protect you from everyone. You can trust me.” He gave a reassuring squeeze on her hands.

She held back her tongue, the use of the words ‘my love’ indicated possession rather than endearment and it didn’t sit right with her, but she didn’t want to piss him off. Sure she spent her days with him over the past few months and knew the type of person he was, but what if she didn’t know who he really was? She never saw this side of him before, and something told her he worked hard to hide it.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” She asked, not wanting to acknowledge what he had said.

“Yes, that would be very nice” he said, patting her hand once before standing up, taking a step back to give her space to head to the kitchen. He sat back on the sofa waiting for his tea.

As she prepared the tea, he kept on admiring her. The domesticity felt good, he felt at peace. The woman he loved was standing there, preparing a cup of tea for him, and soon enough, he was going to seal the deal. Take her with him and never look back.

“Here.” She returned with it, placing it in front of him, before sitting on the other sofa, closer to the door, he noted, not that it mattered anyway, there was no way she could get away from him.

“You should get packing. Just grab the essen-“

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened as she set the tea aside.

“i was saying you should pack your stuff. We’ll leave here shortly.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not leaving my home.” He hummed when he heard this.

“Y/n, home isn’t really a place, its a feeling. A person. As long as that person is with you, you’re home.” He said with a smile, using the same lines she had said a while ago, when he asked her if she missed her childhood home that she had to sell for the orphanage considering it was too big and living there alone was a little too much for her.

“You’re crazy. You’re a psychopath, please leave.” Her tome was bitter, she was done holding back. Maybe it was her fault for not saying anything before, she shouldn’t given him the shut up call when he started getting on her nerves.

Chrollo let out a small chuckle when he heard the word leave her mouth. Psychopath. He had been referred as one quite a few times. How could he be one though? He had always been told he could feel no empathy, but why did his heart shatter when he saw her cry? He couldn’t form any romantic bonds, then why did he fall so hard for her?

If he was a psychopath then he had all the more reason not to let her go. According to everyone, he was unable to love, but he loved her. It was a rare occurrence for him, so he just couldn’t give up, no matter the costs.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, my love” his voice was unnervingly sweet. The tone of his voice did not match the words that came out of them. Knowing there was no way he was going to talk any sense, her eyes darted to the door, mentally coming up with a plan.

He noticed this and lightly shook his head smiling, she was so cute to think she could make a run for it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He said, calming sipping on his tea, but she ignored what he had to say and made a dash for it, as soon as she heard the ceramic cup break when it touched the ground, she felt his hands grabbing her waist, picking her up. She tried to kick him, but to no avail. He slammed her onto the couch, her back towards him and kept his hand firmly on her back, pushing her back down every-time she tried to get back up.

He was fast and strong, she never knew it. The false sense of hope that she felt seeing him calmly sip on his tea, thinking she had a chance faded as soon as she felt his grip on her waist. She couldn’t escape.

“I didn’t expect you to act like a brat, my love.”

“Stop calling me that and let me go!” she sobbed, trying to land a punch on him hoping to throw him off, each time he spoke made the need to escape increase.

“Apartment 223, river view towers, Dayroad park.” her body froze when she heard him repeat the address of her best friend, she never told him where she lived, nor did she ever talk much about her, considering she was out of the city for an extended business trip. Her reaction was enough for him to continue, knowing he hit a soft spot.

“I heard your little friend is back. Why don’t we pay her a visit?” he said leaning forward to whisper the last part in her ear, the way he spoke told her the visit was going to be anything but a friendly one.

“What do you want, Chrollo.” She knew what he wanted, but she just wanted to buy some time to think.

“I want you to stay with me forever. I want you to come back with me so we can go back to our home.” he placed a small kiss on the crook of her neck as he said this, the feeling felt like no other, her soft skin against his lips was driving him crazy, he craved her skin for so long, he dreamt of her underneath him begging for release, looking at him with those pleading bedroom eyes.

Her scent was intoxicating, he didn’t know how he had been so patient for all this time, but he knew he had to hold on a little longer, she’d come around eventually and if she didn’t, he knew just how to make her come around eventually.

“I told you I loved you. I meant it when I said it” he said, hoping she would come around, he knew just telling her he loved her wouldn’t work, but he didn’t want her to be the bad guy in her eyes, he wanted to slowly work his way in, perhaps she might feel bad eventually considering how she has a heart of gold and rejecting someone never sat right by her before.

“This isn’t love, you don’t do this to the one you love!” He stroked her hair as she complained on telling him what he was doing was wrong, promising him that she would forget it ever happened if he just let her go, she’d be find living in denial.

“I can’t let you go now. We’re going home. I can’t think of a life where you’re not by my side.” He said, his decision was final. There was no way he would let go of her no matter how hard she pleaded, Chrollo was taking her with him whether she liked it or not. He kissed the top of her head and smiled uttering his final words before knocking her out and taking him home, to their home.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n

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e350tb · 3 months

Text

Gravity Falls/Doctor Who - Mabel Vs The Toymaker

Mabel stood in front of the small toy store in the Gravity Falls Mall, her face set in an uncharacteristic determined frown.

It wasn’t really that much to look at. It was a faux-retro structure, the facade make of dyed red teak, with a black sign above it that read ‘The Toyroom Toys and Gifts.’ There were puppets and dolls displayed in the window next to the big wooden door, each of them painted and dressed in bright colourful costumes - clowns, jesters, harlequins, all garish in tone.

Soos swallowed as they approached the shop, gazing at the window. He looked closely at a doll with brown skin and messy hair, wearing a purple-and-white clown suit with a big red nose.

“You sure they’re here, dood?” he asked.

“The mysterious toy store that appeared overnight?” replied Mabel. “Of course Dipper would’ve come here. He couldn’t pass up a mystery like that!”

“Oh, okay.” Soos tugged on his collar. “But shouldn’t we get Stan and Ford before we go in?”

“I left a note on the table,” replied Mabel. “If anything awful happens to us, they’ll come to the rescue!”

“Oh.” Soos gulped. “Good.”

Mabel pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The store was dark, eerily lit by old electric lights that left long shadows over the creaking wooden floorboards. There were rows and rows of toys on shelves to the left and right, hidden by the darkness, but the middle of the shop was clear like a gangway, leading to the black oak counter. Behind this were more puppets, hung on hooks liked hanged men, and a few dusty old board games on small shelves below. There was nobody at the counter, but an old bell stood by the equally ancient-looking cash register.

Mabel and Soos walked to the counter, the floors squeaking and groaning under their weight. Without hesitation, Mabel began pressing the button on the bell – the dinging echoed.

“Heh, guess nobody’s home,” said Soos. “We should–”

He turned around.

“Wilkommen to mein shop.”

Soos jumped and screamed. A man had appeared behind him – he wore a cowboy’s outfit, a clearly plastic badge on his white buttoned shirt and a big black hat framing his forehead. He seemed an older gentlemen, grey-haired and somewhat weathered, but the wide smile seemed almost childish. Were it not for the strange glimmer in his blue eyes, he’d almost seem like an ordinary, if eccentric, shopkeeper.

“Oh! Sorry dude, you crept up on me!” Soos rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, we’re just here to…”

“Cut the act!” snapped Mabel, pointing accusingly at the shopkeeper. “Where’s Dipper? What did you do to him?”

The man’s brows shot up.

“Dipper?” He rubbed his chin. “Do we have ein Dipper? Let me think…”

He walked behind the counter, kneeling down to look beneath it.

“I think I saw the Dipper,” he said. “Would he have been with the red-haired girl? Green flannel, freckles?”

“Yeah,” replied Mabel, crossing her arms. “Where are they?”

“Let me see… that would be filed under das ‘Pine Tree,” mused the man. “Und das ice bag…”

Mabel smacked her hands on the counter.

“Where are they?” she demanded again.

“Now really, there’s a lot under here,” replied the shopkeeper. “I need a little time to… aha!”

He stood up, his hands cupped together.

“Now, you is looking for the Dipper, ja?” he said. “Und the Wendy?”

“Yeah!” snapped Mabel. “Where are they?”

“Uh… dood,” Soos put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. “We never told him Wendy’s name.”

“Here ist das Dipper…” The man placed a small object on the counter. “...und das Wendy.” He placed another next to it.

Mabel took up the objects with trembling hands. One was a wooden figurine teenage boy, wearing a vest, orange shirt and shorts, and clad in a familiar blue and white hat, smiling fairly neutrally up at her. The other was a teenage girl with long red hair, a trapper hat, a green flannel shirt and jeans, again with an easy smile. Their features were printed on the front and back of the flat figures, with the sides an unpainted wood colour. They were like little figures from an old wooden train set.

“What did you do to them?!” Mabel exclaimed, horrified.

“Ah, you see, little Dipper wanted to see what the ‘mystery’ of this little shop was,” replied the man, “so he dragged his little girlfriend here to snoop around, see what they could see. Und that’s when they found me, and all of my toys, and Dipper, he was so confident, he wanted me to let them go. So I told him I would play a game with him. If he won, I’d give him all my toys. But if I won…”

He grinned, and Mabel noticed he seemed to have far too many teeth. A single golden tooth shimmered in the left side of his mouth.

“Ah, but I did win,” he continued. “And now we both have what we wanted, ja? Dipper und Wendy get to know the mystery of the toy shop, forever und ever, and I get some more new toys to have fun with.”

“But why?” asked Mabel. “Why make them this? Who are you?”

The man took the wooden Dipper and Wendy out of Mabel’s hands, placing them on the table.

“I am the Toymaker,” he replied, his accent slipping from a faux German to a deep British.

“Yeah, kinda guess that, dood,” said Soos, looking around. “I mean I guess it’s a hobby.”

“Soos!”

“What? You gotta hand it to him, there’s some pretty neat stuff in here,” Soos shrugged.

Mabel narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, I deserve that.” Soos looked at his feet.

Mabel turned back to the Toymaker, reaching for the wooden figures.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the Toymaker raised his hand. “You cannot be having my toys. That is theft! Scandalous!”

“They’re not yours!” shouted Mabel.

“But they are,” replied the Toymaker. “I won them, fair und square! If you want them back, you must be winning the game yourself.”

Mabel and Soos exchanged glances.

“Soos,” she said, “go tell Grunkle Stan what’s happening.”

“On it!” Soos saluted and headed for the door. He reached it, pushed on it - and slammed into it as it failed to move.

“Aw man, I always do that…”

He tried pulling, but to no avail.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” said the Toymaker. “No leaving until the game is complete.”

Mabel furrowed her brow.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll play your game. I mean, I don’t really have a choice…”

The Toymaker leaned in.

“Well then,” he said, and the store shifted around them. Suddenly, the counter was a table, and Mabel was swept onto a chair across from the Toymaker. She heard a yelp, and Soos was pushed into place next to them.

The Toymaker narrowed his eyes.

“What shall we play?”

He leaned back, producing a deck of cards which he began to shuffle.

“I have been busy since I found your brother, you know,” he said, his accent becoming British again. “Your town has been an interesting little distraction from my… current game. So much more colourful than that joyless Doctor…”

He flipped through the cards impossibly quickly.

“I beat the Time Baby in a game of snap,” he said, “and made him into so many marbles. I trapped the unicorns in slide-puzzles, and exiled the Shapeshifter to the Baltic Avenue space - though I prefer Coventry Street myself. I made Blendin Blandin my Joker card…”

He held up the Joker, revealing a picture of the time traveller on the front. He tossed it away contemptuously.

“Bill Cipher played for his freedom,” he continued. “He lost. I made him a talking board.”

“Bill?” Mabel’s eyes widened. “But how?”

“I still wait for the main game,” said the Toymaker, ignoring Mabel’s response. “The final contest against the Doctor. But I do enjoy a few extra games on the side.”

“Who’s the Doctor?” asked Soos.

“I don’t get it,” said Mabel. “Dipper and Wendy only disappeared last night. How’d you get the time to play against all those other people?”

“You really think I would be so boring as to obey the rules of linear time?” sniffed the Toymaker.

Mabel stared at the Dipper and Wendy figures.

“So they could’ve actually been here for…”

“We have spoken enough!” The Toymaker’s German accent briefly returned. “Now… what shall we play, Mabel Pines?”

“How do we know you won’t cheat?” asked Mabel.

The Toymaker’s eyes widened.

“Never!” he exclaimed. “Outrageous! For shame! I must abide by the rules of the game! To do otherwise would be unthinkable!”

Mabel and Soos exchanged glances.

“Go fish,” declared Mabel. “We’ll play that.”

“Sehr gut!” The German accent was back again as he dealt the cards - seven for him, seven for Mabel. He shuffled the cards again and placed them face down in the middle. “Most matches win?”

“You’re on.”

The Toymaker leaned in.

“By all means,” he said. “You first.”

Mabel looked down at her hand - ten of spades, queen of hearts, eight of hearts, seven of diamonds, ace of diamonds, seven of clubs and nine of clubs. She swallowed.

“Do you have any sevens?” she asked.

The Toymaker pulled a single card from his deck and handed it over - the seven of diamonds. Soos began to lean over to see his hand - he slapped him away.

“Okay… do you have any tens?”

The Toymaker smirked.

“Go fish.”

Mabel picked up another card - the nine of spades. The Toymaker studied his cards.

“You know, your brother challenged me to a game of logic,” he said. “Chess. Do you have any eights?”

Mabel swallowed, handing over her eight of hearts.

“Chess?” she quizzed.

“Ja,” the Toymaker nodded. “Nearly won too. Just made one tiny wrong move… but sometimes that’s all it takes.”

He smirked.

“Show me your Queens.”

Mabel handed over the queen of hearts.

“Aw man, dood, I can’t watch…” Soos covered his eyes.

“It’s always the ones that be thinking they are the cleverest,” sneered the Toymaker. “I would like to play your Großonkel Ford after we’ve finished here. Fours?”

Mabel shook her head. “Go fish.”

The Toymaker shrugged, drawing a card.

“It is always fun to play against the hubristic,” he said.

“Got any aces?” demanded Mabel.

The Toymaker smirked again. “Go fish.”

Mabel drew once more - the Jack of clubs.

“Ford would clean you up,” she snorted.

“No, I think I would be doing the cleaning,” he replied. “He is, as they say, too clever by half. Like the poor Dipper. Got any nines?”

With a shaking hand, Mabel handed over her two nines.

“Wunderbar,” said the Toymaker. “And any fives?”

“Go fish, jerk,” spat Mabel.

“Ooh, bad sportsmanship.” The toymaker shook his head as he drew a card. “But I am right, no? Sooner or later he was always going to end up in a fight he couldn’t win.”

“Jacks?” asked Mabel, trying not to take the bait.

“You must be going fishing!” The Toymaker clapped his hands together.

Mabel gritted her teeth, drawing the king of diamonds. The Toymaker grinned unpleasantly.

“Sevens?”

Mabel gulped - she had three, nearly a match. Still, she reluctantly handed them over.

“And poor Wendy,” he continued. “She tried to fight me when he lost – can you believe that? So uncivilised. Threes?”

“Go fish.”

“But what can you expect from her kind?” asked the Toymaker, drawing the card. “So headstrong. So foolish. If she wanted so badly to stay with her Dipper, I could only oblige.”

“Got any fours?”

“Go und fish!”

Mabel drew a card - the ace of hearts.

“So many possibilities for matches,” said the Toymaker, looking at his hand. “Any nines?”

“Go fish.”

The Toymaker shrugged, drawing a card.

“Jacks?” asked Mabel.

The Toymaker handed over a card - the Jack of hearts.

“How about you give me my sevens back?” she demanded.

The Toymaker smiled wryly and did so.

“How ‘bout any tens?”

“Go fish.”

She drew a three of hearts.

It continued like this for a few more turns. The Toymaker quickly seized the three but had to go fish asking for twos. Mabel claimed the three of clubs from him but lost out asking for fours - she ‘fished’ a four of diamonds, ironically enough. The Toymaker took Mabel’s aces, but went fishing when she had no fives. Mabel asked for Jacks and got nothing, fishing a ten of hearts.

The Toymaker smirked.

“Your sevens, fraulein.”

Mabel handed them over with a shaking hand, and the Toymaker laid them out in front of him, along with a single seven of spades from his hand.

“Ein point for me.”

“Uh, when we get turned into toys and stuff,” said Soos, “can I be a teddy bear? Feels like that’d hurt less.”

“Soos!” exclaimed Mabel.

“Any tens?”

Mabel swallowed as she handed them over.

“Just sayin’,” Soos shrugged.

“How about twos?”

“Go fish,” grunted Mabel.

She looked at her hand as the Toymaker did so.

“Any nines?” she asked.

The Toymaker handed over the nines of clubs, spades and hearts.

“You would be making good playing cards, I think,” he said.

“Shut up,” said Mabel. “Threes?”

“Go und fish.”

She drew the five of spades…

“Any Kings?”

…and handed over the King of Diamonds. She had no sixes, though, so the Toymaker drew.

On the game went. Mabel got two eights, spades and hearts, but the Toymaker had no fours, so she drew a four of clubs. The Toymaker asks for eights but got none. Mabel took three twos from him, missing only the two of spades, and reclaimed the nines, but he had no threes, so she drew. The Toymaker requested aces but got nothing.

“Any fives?”

The Toymaker handed over three cards. She gathered them with her five of spades and slapped them on the table in front of her.

“Read ‘em and weep, sucker!” she snapped. “One to me! Now show me a three!”

“Nein, go fish.”

Mabel slapped her forehead and drew. As she did so, her eyes widened, and she gathered the new jack with her three other jacks and put them in front of her.

“Two to me.”

“Ja, ja, very good,” the Toymaker said dismissively. “Your nines.”

Mabel shook her head as she handed over her three nines.

“Und your aces?”

“Go fish,” snorted Mabel.

The Toymaker drew.

“Show me your fours.”

“Nein, go fish.”

She drew an eight of diamonds, and immediately had to hand it over as the Toymaker asked for eights. She had no Kings, so he drew again.

On it went. Mabel asked for tens and got nothing, but drew the ten of clubs anyway. The Toymaker took back the nines and unsuccessfully tried for eights. Mabel took back the Kings but had no luck on threes. She drew a queen of diamonds that the Toymaker promptly took, along with her twos. These he drew in front of him - another set. He had no luck on nines, and Mabel took the queens back. He’d no threes so she drew again - eight of clubs.

The Toymaker took her tens. He had no luck on aces, but drew the nine of diamonds and made another match. Mabels took his aces, but drew when he had no kings. He took her fours, and then looked at her over the cards.

“Shall we up the ante?” he asked. “One turn each from now on. We keep going until we have no cards.”

Mabel scratched her chin.

“Wouldn’t that be messing with the rules?” she asked.

“Not,” replied the Toymaker, “if they are house rules.”

Mabel nodded.

“Fine,” she said.

She looked at her cards.

“Eights?”

The Toymaker handed over three - another set!

“Sixes?” he asked.

Mabel handed over her six, and the Toymaker made another set.

“Aw dood…” Soos clutched his head, sweating.

“Threes.”

“Go fish.”

Mabel drew a card - three of diamonds.

“Fours?”

Mabel swallowed. “Go fish.”

He drew a card.

“Kings?”

“Go fish.”

She drew the four of spades.

“Tens?”

“Go fish.”

He drew as she looked at her cards, sweating.

She inhaled deeply.

“Aces?”

He handed over two cards, and Mabel made another set.

“Fours?” he asked again.

Mabel handed over hers - he made a set once more. She looked at her cards - three threes, three queens, three kings.

“Q-queens?” she stammered.

“Go und fish.”

She drew with trembling hand, and produced the king of spades. She laid them out - one more match.

“We are tied!” exclaimed the Toymaker. “With three suits left in play. Oh, I am so excited! Now… your threes.”

Mabel swallowed, handing them over.

“Now,” exclaimed the Toymaker. “The gamble! I have six cards, you have three. To complete the set, one of us must draw. Will it be you?”

Mabel looked down at the deck - there were a paltry few cards left. She took a deep breath and channelled her inner Grunkle Stan.

“Got any queens?” she asked, knowing full-well he didn’t.

He gestured to the cards, and she drew.

She looked down at the Three of Spades in her hand.

“Your turn.”

“Hmm…” the Toymaker scratched his chin. “If I correctly guess what you have, I can take it, and you lose. But if I don’t… a roll of the dice. A pure gamble.”

He leaned in, studying Mabel closely.

“Do you have any… tens?”

Mabel let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Go fish.”

He did so.

“Ten of diamonds,” he said, “a set.”

He laid them in front of him.

“Got any threes?” demanded Mabel.

He handed three over, and she too made a set.

“No cards,” said the Toymaker. “I have no choice but to draw… and we both know I’ll get…”

He drew the card.

“Got any queens?” asked Mabel.

“The Queen of Spades,” nodded the Toymaker. “The last remaining card.”

He handed it over, and Mabel laid her remaining cards in front of her.

“Seven points,” said Mabel. “You’ve only got six. I win.”

The Toymaker nodded, impressed.

“A bold gamble at the end,” he said. “You would put so much on the line to save your brother. It… puzzles me.”

Mabel leaned over the table.

“Give them back,” she snarled. “Now.”

The Toymaker adjusted his hat.

“Well why didn’t y’all just say so?” he asked in an exaggerated cowboy accent. “One Dipper n’ one Wendy comin’ right up!”

He clapped his hands together.

“O’ course,” he continued, “you never specified in what condition you’d get ‘em, sooo…”

“Wait, what?” exclaimed Mabel.

“Aw dood! He tricked us with genie logic!” blurted Soos.

“No, I want them back as people!” shouted Mabel. “You hear me? As peo–”

“Guten tag, fraulein! Danke for playing!”

Mabel felt herself being sucked backwards, flying through the air towards the door - which seemed a lot farther away then it had been when she entered. With a mighty crash, she slammed through the door, skidding along the cold, marble floors of the mall and coming to a stop in front of a bench. Soos flew out after her, flying across the mall and into a garbage can on the other side.

“Mabel!”

Mabel looked up, rubbing her head. Grunkle Stan was leaning over her, clutching her shoulders.

“What happened?!” he exclaimed. “What did that shyster do to you? I’m gonna give him a piece o’...”

“That might not be possible, Stanley.”

Ford was looking back towards the store front - the toy shop was gone, replaced with a close shutter and a ‘new store opening soon’ banner. He shook his head, turning back to Mabel.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Where’s Dipper and Wendy?”

Mabel felt something hard in her hand - she opened it, and the little figures that were her brother and friend sat on her palm, as inanimate as any object.

“Ford,” said Stan, his voice dangerously calm. “We’re gonna find this jerk, right?”

Ford shook his head.

“I don’t know, Stan,” he replied. “The Celestial Toymaker might only be found if he wants to be found. It’s possible he’s tracking an, uh, mutual acquaintance, but if anything that man’s even more difficult to find.”

“But we can turn them back, right?” Mabel asked.

Ford put a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I will try, I promise.”

“And if we can’t?” demanded Stan.

Ford took a deep breath.

“Then we track him,” he said. “And if we can’t track him… we wait.”

Mabel looked down at the small figures, wondering what they must be feeling right now. She blinked some tears out of her eyes and held them close to her heart, hoping they could at least feel the beat.

“I’ll fix this, guys,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Dipper and Wendy didn’t reply.

#doctor who #gravity falls #mabel pines #the toymaker #soos ramirez #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #grunkle stan #ford pines #fanfiction #writing

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kiryoutann · 2 years

Text

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

It is an open secret that there are two kingdoms that continue to be enemies even though the great war of all nations in Teyvat has long ended. Snezhnaya and Liyue didn't care enough to put out the fire between them even though a lot of blood was spilled and pooled on the battlefield.

Although the Snezhnaya kingdom was considered the coldest for centuries (just like the blizzards in winter), in King Alexander II's second year in ruling, he proved them wrong. War leaves nothing but pain for those left behind. the King who lost his first son—Anton—from that, chose to end the war between his country and Liyue.

The King of Snezhnaya—who was tired of the bloodshed that also took away his son's life—found a way out.

At a great banquet, all nobles without exception raised their glasses high on the signal of the current Snezhnayan king. They had enthusiastic faces for what came out of their lips next as his wife pushed his second son to stand beside him, not far from them was a little girl with beautiful colored hair in twin buns.

"Now, let's raise our glasses!"

The glasses clinked. The room instantly fell silent. Everyone's eyes were on the two children in front.

"The crown prince of Snezhnaya, my son, Ajax, will marry the princess of Liyue, Princess (Y/N)! They shall marry once they come of age. Through the union of a couple who shall spend a lifetime together, may the alliance between these two nations only be strengthened!"

At that time, the Crown Prince was as confused as the little girl wearing a dress that was foreign to him. Though, inwardly he compared it to traditional Snezhnayan clothes and found that whatever she was wearing made her look beautiful.

You were his first love. Maybe it would make his life easier if it also stayed with him as he grow up.

Although the political marriage agreement has been approved, it has not happened considering you both were not old enough yet to get married. Liyue and Snezhnaya were no longer at war however, nor did they trust each other that much. Invitations from their respective banquets were always met by the king/emperor and queen/empress, neither you or Childe rarely ventured outside of their own country.

The void left by his supposed fiancé provides an opportunity for Childe to fall for someone else, Lady Lumine.

Her blonde hair that doesn't hide those golden twinkles of her eyes isn't the only thing that captivates him. She demonstrated her skills in archery, finishing as the third place in the hunting competition hosted by Snezhnaya. Two polar wolves known for their agility became where her arrows pierced them.

Childe realized with all his heart that he had fallen in love with her. Soon enough, they know they have the same feelings for each other.

Though, it wasn't enough to break his engagement to the princess of another country he hadn't seen in years. Even when his parents understood there was something between their son and Lumine, they did nothing more than separate the two.

From that day on, his secret encounters with Lumine were becoming less and less. Whenever they were at the same banquet, one of them would walk away from the sea of people while giving a look telling each other to follow whoever walked first. Only when the curtains fall do they kiss, only behind closed doors are they lovers.

Today is the day he turned twenty one. The palace is decorated as fancy as possible to welcome the guests who are invited to the banquet for the celebration of him reaching adulthood, which means that he is getting closer to inheriting the throne.

The now oldest prince of Snezhnaya's smile widened as he stepped into the large door. A red sash against the white-silver suit, on his shoulders a gold epaulet hangs. The guard who saw him ready to enter where the banquet was being held saluted before pulling the doorknob swinging the teak wood door which caught the attention of many people.

"His Highness, Crown Prince Childe has arrived in the room!" The herald shouted loudly to the guests downstairs.

Childe was on a higher floor than them, a short chance for him to find Lumine in a sea of colorfully clad nobles. They really took advantage of the virtue of employing sorcerers to keep the palace warm even though the autumn winds remained unfriendly outside. He descended the stairs after spotting her blonde hair.

Several other nobles bowed their heads in respect, while the imperial families from other kingdoms simply smiled. At this banquet, Childe knew he had to open his first dance and he couldn't dream of doing it with a woman other than Lumine.

It won't hurt. After all, his parents couldn't possibly forbid it because it would look weird in the eyes of people who didn't know about them.

However, he had only taken five steps toward her, as if he were not the star of the celebration; people turned their heads another way. The direction where the King and Queen were standing to welcome the arrival of a family through the door.

"My, my! It is a great honor to welcome the Emperor and Empress, Prince Shiva and Princess.."

Whatever he said next was blurry because of the people around who started whispering after seeing the faces of whoever they were who was being greeted by his family. It was too late for him to turn around so he wouldn't have to join them as the King had landed almost the same blue eyes as his with a beaming face.

"Ajax! Come here! Shouldn't you greet your in-laws and your fiancée?" he said.

Childe sighed mentally, the smile on his face contrasting his exasperation. However, as soon as he processed what his father had said just now, his heart fell into his stomach. Childe stopped when his family moved away from blocking his view of their special guests.

Fiancée.

His breath caught in his throat as he landed his gaze on the woman who had hair the exact hair of the little girl with whom he shared the misfortune of the political marriage that bound them. The difference is that you are much more mature now, as evidenced by the curves of your body that are emphasized by the belt from your Liyuean traditional dress.

You—the fiancée—stood some distance in front of him, at his coming of age banquet despite not attending any events in years.

You bowed in greeting, "I greet Your Majesties the King and the Queen, Your Highness the Crown Prince, and Prince Teucer of Snezhnaya." You look up slowly either from your hair accessories or you weren’t so sure to look at him.

Childe's smile was hopefully enough to hide his surprise. "Princess (Y/N), welcome." He spoke before greeting the three others.

"With your sudden public presence, I'm sure many men will line up to ask for your hand," The smirk in his father's voice sounded clearer then, "Unfortunately for them, the Crown Prince of Snezhnaya will be the luckiest."

The Queen turned to him, her cheeks raised as she smiled. "Why don't you guide the Princess to your first dance?" She suggested.

The whole universe knew Childe would do whatever he could if it was possible to decline it. The plan was that the first dance of his coming of age banquet would be with Lumine—who when he glanced at her, she was looking with slightly parted lips and wide golden eyes. His hand wanted to grab her, despite the fact that it was useless if he was in the public eye.

"I believe there's no need to push if the Princess doesn't want it, don't you agree?" He said followed by a nervous laugh.

Prince Shiva—your older brother followed with his own, sounding more amused, "My sister can neither accept nor refuse anything if there is no offer."

Of course he had to open his lips and say things that would put Childe into a corner. The rest of them laughed at the same time thinking it was a joke. He almost sighed before walking over to you who was standing still staring at him with sparkling eyes under the chandelier.

Childe doesn't know what makes it hard for him to reach out, between Lumine's concern seeing him approach you or the hopeful gazes of people who have nothing better to do than wait for him to say the magic words. Despite him taking several beats to ask, you were patiently silent.

A breath was taken, "Princess, may I have this dance?" Childe hoped any sound in here muffled his voice so Lumine wouldn't hear it.

You put your smaller hand on his outstretched one, giving him a glance interspersed with a faint smile, "You may, My Prince." You gave a reply that did nothing but increase his discomfort.

The fake smile Childe was holding on to had never felt heavier before. On his way to the dance floor, his blue eyes glanced at the place where Lumine was and his heart felt like it was being clenched. This doesn't mean anything. Lumine should have known that even though the woman in his hands was his fiancé, his heart was still hers.

Your hands were placed on his shoulders, while his own gripped the other and your waist. Music started playing, you both started to move your feet.

"I congratulate you of your come of age, Prince Childe." You chose to call him with a more recognizable name even though you knew his birth name.

Childe thought that was a good thing. Maybe you didn't want this engagement (that would soon turn into a marriage) as much as him. You had also not seen him in years, Childe wouldn’t be surprised to hear if you also had a lover in Liyue.

"Thank you." Childe said but then, regretting on how short it was. Should I add a harmless compliment? With accessories in your half up half down hair, Childe also can't lie and say you weren’t one of the prettiest here.

Childe offered a smile, "You look exquisite, Princess."

Your lips curled up as red tint filled your cheeks. As expected it didn't take much to make you blush. "Thank you." You said.

When Childe had the chance not to look at you, he realized that the whole room locked their gaze on the two of them. At this point Childe was sure nothing could make things worse. However, only a pair of golden eyes did he care about.

Lumine, you know this means nothing, right? You know if I had a choice, I'd rather disappear into one of the dark and lonely sides of the palace to spend time with you. (Y/N), who caught everyone’s eyes even the married nobles might be the prettiest but, you are the one I want.

"Ah!"

"Watch out!"

Childe tightened his grip to secure you from tripping. You looked up from staring at your shoes, cracking a smile as if rather than embarrassed, thinking it was funny and sent your cheeks turning redder than the rouge your maids had applied.

"I apologize, My Prince. It seems like two days is not enough to learn the Snezhnayan dance." You said.

"You studied it in two days?" The question came before Childe could stop it.

You nodded, "I think at least I shouldn't embarrass you in your own ceremony, I want to do my best for you."

Do her best for me..

Normally, Childe would reply flirtatiously. The flustered face and the smile that women usually display for him heightens his pride. Yet none of them compares to Lumine's which looks cute. But, why is his tongue gagging? He even knew that you had no intention of flirting with him, only your choice of words was so sweet and innocent.

Then why couldn't he reply? Instead, his cheeks warmed as if he was a teenager in love. Childe decided to take it because he didn't expect you to have a sweet mouth that could make him taken aback.

The music ended before Childe knew it, your hand that was lifted from him shoulder was what woke him up. You both gave a closing greeting, he bowed while crossing one arm over his chest while you curtsied. The crowd erupted in applause as soon as you finished the first dance of the night.

Childe glanced around for Lumine, finding she had taken a step out of the sea of people. "The floor is too big for just one dancing couple, come and fill it. Please do enjoy the rest of the banquet." He said to the other guests.

Head turned back to you, "It was a lovely dance, Princess. But, unfortunately I have need elsewhere so I have to excuse myself."

You nodded, "No need to worry, Prince Childe. Do take care." You gave your understanding.

One more bow before Childe quickened his pace following where Lumine had disappeared. A long, familiar hallway led him to the place he had predicted she would choose. After all, the palace gardens at every banquet were always quiet because the nobles preferred to be immersed in gossip and trends rather than plants and fountains.

Childe found her standing leaning against one of the pillars, the red dress she was wearing wrapped around her petite body. "Sweetie." He calls her.

As soon as Childe was in front of her, he stroked her cheek when he noticed that her expression was quite crumpled. She is jealous, he is very well aware of that. And there's nothing he likes more than the jealous and possessive Lumine. This signifies their many years of relationship, she still loves him the same as in the beginning. Isn't that a luxury that not everyone gets?

"You danced with the Princess." She said punctuated by pouting lips.

Childe landed a peck, "Wish it was you, though. My hands on your red dress, sounds good, huh?" He says.

Although he wasn’t sure that was a good response (considering that Lumine gets irritated every time he retorts to her complaints with a joke), she laughs and leaves a smile. She put her hand on his cheek, stroking it gently with her gloved hand.

"Yeah, how about we do it now?" She matched his energy.

The distance between them closed, lips colliding against each other. The banquet is one of their small opportunities for them to meet, so it's only natural that they’ll make out like tomorrow the apocalypse will happen. She probably drank a small amount of wine, could be tasted from her tongue as Childe explored every inch of her mouth. Hands brought her closer.

PRANG!

Childe and Lumine jumped from the sound. Fear is on the cusp of being caught by other nobles or worse, his parents may feel that the palace gardens are a suitable place to visit.

But, to his surprise, his heart didn't expect anything worse than all the possibilities that crossed his mind. Childe found the Princess he danced with earlier—who was staring at them with wide eyes and jaws gaping in shock. You dropped the glass you were carrying, shattering the glass at the bottom of your long dress.

"Princess.." Childe's voice sounded so weak calling out to you.

Childe didn't turn to look at Lumine but, from the way she gripped his hand, it was a sign that she was having a severe anxiety attack. The fact that you were now standing there without saying anything didn't help much, even your expression remained the same.

Once you had processed everything marked by your lips being closed, Childe expected you to cry or scream hysterically. But even under the dim lighting of the garden he was sure you didn't shed a single tear. You just looked down at the broken glass, then at him then Lumine and back to him again.

"Ah," You lowered the hand that was still raised. "I see I have interfered with other people's intimate time."

What?

What on earth is happening right now?? Your reaction was very, very different from what he had thought. Even though he wasn't your fiancé out of love but, at least you had the right to be angry because Childe failed to appreciate you enough to not make out with other women elsewhere.

Instead of cursing, you hooked your hands in front and bowed slightly. "I'm sorry. I'll take my leave now."

You actually turned around and left as you promised. The back of your head was obvious to him but, had no answer to your confusing reaction to his infidelity.

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tobiasdrake · 3 months

Text

We have taken control of the Sky Base. Now. Uh. Now what do we do with it?

I promised I'd let you guys try and figure out a way to turn the climate regulators back on but I gotta be honest, I am itching to start breaking things.

I will try to be patient but I don't know how much time I can promise.

Would it help if I rammed my staff through the console? I've been told that sometimes that turns machines off for some reason.

It looks like there's a slidey lever on the side here. Maybe it's, like, the Cloud Cover Lever and all we need to do is slide it do--

Serai: *swats hand*

But how are we supposed to know what it does if we don't pull it?

It's sounding more and more like wanton vandalism is going to be our best option.

We could, and I'm just spitballing here, but we could take the speedball back to the ship and grab Yolande. She's an endless barrel of explosives. I'm sure she can make enough bombs to turn this entire facility into the brightest fireworks display your world has ever seen.

Okay, but you came out of the Catalyst so if I don't like what I hear, Zale and I are taking you out into the hall to play kickball. It will buy the smart people more time to figure out a way to crack security.

It was mentioned that the Catalyst overtook the existing AI that was controlling the climate regulator. I guess this is them.

...

Well, you blew it. Come with me, Kickball.

Yeah. We know. We just found that out the hard way. Are you actually useful for anything? Because my patience is running thin.

TEAKS DID YOU JUST MAGIC BOOK THEIR ENTIRE DATABASE I WILL KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH HAHAHAHAHAHA

Okay, I guess Kickball was useful for something! What have we got? Anything we can use to disable and/or explode the station? Gimme gimme gimme.

That's hurtful, Cedric. Accurate, but hurtful.

Setting my own ego aside for a moment, there are exactly three people I consider to be super mega ultra smart and they're all in this room right now. Where are we supposed to find--

Those are children, Zale. Don't be stupid.

Centuries-old immortal children.

Centuries-old immortal child engineers.

...

Oh, shit. GUYS. I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING. What about Cael at the Clockwork Castle!? He and his team are brilliant. You remember that shit they made for the Eclipse!? They could crack this in no time!

They can't leave the castle without instantly decaying into vapor, so I guess Kickball's coming with us. But don't. Do. Things. Your one and only remaining function is terrible and you're not allowed to ever use it, under penalty of finding out how fragile that orange glass bit truly is. That's the rule.

I suppose it's time to return to our own world. To the Clockwork Castle, to take care of some very important business.

YES, now Repine can discover the joys of intense gambling addiction. My hobby is spreading like a virus.

...oh, I guess we should also go chat up the kids while we're here, huh?

He'd understand. Thank you.

Listen, we have something very important to talk to you about so please try to focus and don't get distracted by the impossibly cool cyborg.

...or the soul-infused golem made from the mythical Living Glass.

...or the animate puppet infused with godly magic....

...

You know what? Zale and I will find something to busy ourselves with for about a day while y'all nerd out and then we can come back to this.

O.O TEAKS WHAT

...

OKAY. I. Thought. You'd be more protective of your magic journal than that.

...

Good on you for pragmatism!

I mean, most of the people I would consider "friends" are either part of our crew or part of the Vespertine crew. But I would like to take some time to recap what's happened for Garl.

And maybe spend some time pounding on TIA's door. Fucker thinks he can just portal away from me? I know where you live, asshole, and I can crank the obnoxiousness up to 11 on a dime. He is going to share his feelings and talk things through or so help me.

I foresee great things happening with those secrets in these hands. I eagerly anticipate what they'll create.

#sea of stars #drake plays sea of stars

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veteran-fanperson · 2 years

Text

Jeelakarra Bellam

Continuing my bodyguard!Charak saga. This goes to the point where our two first meet.

Read on AO3 here.

Read the previous work here.

If you want to be on a taglist for this series, just let me know!

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

“How about this one?” His assistant Raju slides another profile at him across the teak coffee table. “Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao. 32 years old and Ex-Indian Army. Actually won the Vishisht Seva Medal before his release from the army five years ago. He was working with Pranav’s security detail previously, so great references too.” Raju continued.

Charan picked it up, scanning the document. Two years older than him, yet such a different life.

“Do you want to try him out for a while?” Raju persisted. “I asked around, he doesn’t have a creepy vibe. We could always go back to the agency after a month if you guys aren’t gelling well.”

Sudhakar, Charan’s last bodyguard had been organised, quick and fun to hang out with and Charan would have been happy to hold on to him forever until he caught the man groping one of the young volunteers assigned to their entourage at a music release function. The sight of the girl’s tearful expression had prompted an instant dismissal from Charan, along with a change of their usual security agency. After their lacklustre reaction to his reason for breaking Sudhakar’s contract, Charan was sure of one thing at least - he did not want to hire any more of their people.

“Why is the emergency contact section blank?” Charan asked him.

Raju grimaced. “Yeah that threw me off too, and I called them up to ask if they’d just forgotten to put the information in. But no, turns out his father was absent. He was raised by his mother and she died five years ago. No siblings. I guess he’s a bit of a lone wolf, but the agency did make extensive enquiries. He showed incredible bravery saving civilians and fellow Jawans in a terrorist attack in Kashmir, hence the award. I interviewed him too and he was perfectly candid about things, just said he had a difficult couple of years and was still adjusting to life after. ”

“I guess it’s not a crime to have no close connections… but still, to not even list an old colleague or a neighbour?” Charan wondered, looking down at the page again, wondering what it was like to be this man. To be alone, day after day, month after month. What did he do after work? What did his phone look like? He looked at the picture, at the unsmiling face of a young man with short clipped hair and precise moustache. The eyes were blank, telling him nothing.

“Let’s try him out,” he said finally. “But at the first sign of anything strange, he goes.”

“Absolutely.”

*****

A sharp knock sounded at his office door the next Monday morning and Charan looked up from the script with a start.

“Come in,” he called out, and the door swung open.

“Hi there, I’m Tarak.”

Charan gaped. The man who entered was only about as tall as Charan, but he walked with an energy and force that naturally drew the eye to him. He was simply dressed in a grey shirt and jeans, with plain sneakers on his feet. His hair was much longer than Charan anticipated, a mess of wild curls that stood around his head like a halo. His beard looked just as unruly as his hair. His shoulders were very broad, and he had thick muscly arms that were barely concealed by his shirt. The hand he extended out to Charan was large as well, a simple bracelet made with wooden beads adorning his wrist.

“Hello?” prompted Tarak. “I was told you were expecting me.”

Charan continued to gape, registering with a shiver Tarak’s low, deep voice. His eyes were large and intensely dark, and Charan found it hard to look away from their hypnotising depths. “You don’t look anything like your picture.” He blurted out at last, mentally kicking himself a moment later because that was definitely not what he wanted to say.

“Does your contract involve me being clean shaven, cutting my hair and keeping it regulation length?” Tarak asked him, withdrawing his hand. His voice was bland, but his eyes were not amused.

Charan flushed. “Sorry I just - I don’t need anything like that - you don’t need to look a certain way - I mean unless you want to. It’s up to you.” he mumbled, looking down at his desk and quickly holding out his own hand. He felt the other man take it in a firm grip, shaking it quickly before letting go. There was a long, awkward pause as Charan studied the wavy lines of the wood in his desk.

“May I sit down while we go over your schedule and general expectations or do you want me to come back later?” Tarak asked him finally.

“Oh, no. Now is - now is fine. Just great. And yes, let me draw you a chair - hang on -” Charan babbled as he pushed his own chair back and stood up. He grabbed a chair and dragged it to the opposite side of the desk before returning to his own. He pushed the script pages aside, opening his desk drawers to find a copy of his schedule for the next month.

“This month is mostly empty,” he said, pushing the schedule across to Tarak. “I just finished shooting the previous movie, it’s in post production now. Couple of dubbing bits left though. But I haven’t got - I don’t know exactly when. There are a few parties next month that I need to make an appearance at but this month is just - wardrobe fittings for the next movie starting up in six weeks time. Just got the script for it. I hope this one goes well because the last one - I don’t think it was very good, I think it’s going to bomb in the theatres - I did think it wasn’t a good idea but -” Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

“When would you like me to report each morning?” Tarak asked him, thankfully cutting off Charan’s rambling speech. “I’ll need a copy of this sent through to my phone.”

“I’ll ask Raju to do that. And I go to the gym early five mornings a week, like about four thirty. Two mornings I go riding. When I’m in town that is. Is that okay?”

“You make the hours.” Tarak said quietly.

“I do have a small home gym but I enjoy working out with other people and my gym is fantastic. You can join me if you want, it’s a lot of fun.” Charan said, feeling a slight pang. Sudhakar was a fantastic gym buddy, he kept Charan motivated and kept unwanted company away.

“Okay, and afterwards?” Tarak asked him, after another long pause filled with Charan brooding.

“Oh.” Charan shook himself. “Afterwards I go home and have breakfast. Then a quick shower and I start for wherever I’m supposed to go by seven. To this office or shooting or whatever is on the schedule. I generally work till five unless it’s a shoot which can go on till ten. Most evenings I get off, I try to stay at home but there are sometimes functions I have to attend or people I have to have dinner with. Sometimes I meet my family or friends. That’s pretty much it.” He finished rather lamely, realising it did not sound very clear at all.

“Alright, sounds pretty straightforward.” Tarak said crisply, folding the schedule up and pulling out his phone. “I can start today if you want. Here’s my number, I already have yours. Just call or text me ten minutes before you need to leave and I’ll join you in the lobby. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

“No. I mean, okay.” Charan said, grabbing his own phone.

“Yes?” Tarak asked politely.

“What?”

“You wanted to ask me something?”

“Oh.” Charan fumbled with his phone and it slipped out of his hands. “No, I mean. Not really. Sorry.”

“That’s great then. See you later sir.” Tarak said, standing up and pushing his chair back.

“Just Charan is fine.” Charan replied, blushing slightly as he held out his hand. “And it is nice having you here - onboard I mean.”

“Likewise.” Tarak said, smiling slightly as he shook Charan’s hand again. His hand was warm and calloused. Charan shivered involuntarily at the touch, his heart picking up. His own hand felt clammy and cold. He wished he had wiped it before he shook Tarak’s hand. The tips of his fingers touched the cool wood of the beaded bracelet on Tarak’s hand, and he wondered if some girlfriend had given it to him. The thought of Tarak having a girlfriend suddenly made him feel a little sick.

“I’ll let you get on with your reading?” Tarak’s voice broke through again and Charan dropped his hand like he’d had an electric shock.

“Yes of course, let me see you out.” He pushed his chair aside hastily and headed to the door, catching his foot on his laptop cable. Charan made an undignified squeak as he pitched forward, straight into Tarak’s chest as the other man leaped forward to catch him. Charan’s laptop thudded on to the carpeted floor behind him.

“Easy, easy.” Tarak’s low voice whispered to him, like he was trying to soothe a nervous horse. He smelled like sandalwood and starch and sunlight, a woodsy, earthy smell that reminded Charan of the countryside surrounding their Bangalore estate. He felt his face flame up in embarrassment - he was a dancer, an equestrian, a runner - all things that needed excellent hand-eye coordination. Ten minutes with this magnificent man and he had turned into a ditzy feather headed idiot.

“They’re hard to see, these cables.” Tarak said, tugging Charan back into his seat and picking up his laptop. “I’ve tripped over them so many times myself.” He plugged it back in and smiled at Charan, his eyes lighting up for the first time since he had entered the room. His tone was kind and easy, and Charan found himself smiling back despite his embarrassment. “I’ll see myself out, don’t worry. Need to catch up with Ravi anyway.”

He walked to the door and glanced back. “See you later Charan.”

“Bye.” Charan whispered, and when the door clicked shut buried his face in his hands.

‘You’ll like him, Charan. There’s something about him.’ Ravi had said. Well there certainly was something about Tarak. Just his luck that he had to end up with the hottest man he had ever seen in his life as his fucking bodyguard. Someone he had to talk to and travel with every single day. Someone he needed to see in the gym. He wondered what Tarak looked like under his shirt. He had certainly felt like a brickhouse when Charan had laid against his chest.

Charan groaned and pulled at his hair. He was screwed.

#charak #charak is soulmate goals #CharanxTarak #alternate universe #my fanfiction #real person fiction #real person shipping

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poll-ventures · 10 months

Text

Perdition 1.A

< ≡ >

February 16th, 2023

4:00 A.M.

Sarah Beth woke up to two distinct chimes. The ringtone pulled her from her sleep, and she recognized immediately that it was the tone she’d set for her boss. She’d chosen it because it sounded like “Oh shit!”. That is exactly how she felt every time he texted her.

The text was two words. Call me.

She clearly swiped the phone open, and did as the man who signed her checks asked.

He picked up before the first ring had died. “Sleep well, sunshine?”

“Fuck you, Lenoard,” she said, sleep still caught in her throat. “Let me go back, I was dreaming about Bell.”

“Do yourself a favor and keep my daughter’s name out your mouth,” Leonard said amiably. “And come down to the station, please.”

She sighed. “What’s in it for me?”

“Two big Starbucks drinks with your name on ‘em. And a five hour energy,” he said, chuckling deeply.

Sarah Beth took a deep breath, put the phone down, then exhaled as she looked at the clock. She wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep before she had to wake up. He had known that. Fucking dick.

“You’re a fucking dick,” she said, then stood up, startling Beck from his feline slumber as she went to search for yesterday’s pants.

“Lady called off!” he said, feigning shock. “And I don’t trust anyone else to write about this but you.”

She grinned at the faint praise. Halfway through a hoodie, she said, “You better be paying me on Lady’s step, then.”

“Aye aye, captain,” he said dryly. “See you in twenty.”

“Sir yes sir, oorah.” She hung up and grabbed her keys from the bedside table, idly scritching Beck’s head as she stepped into her crocs.

“Bye bye,” she said, bending down to kiss the top of his furry, black head. He rubbed into her chin, following her off of the bed and out of the room as she went to collect Ray. He cried as she picked him up, swaddling the 18 month old tight in his blankets after a quick diaper change.

She replaced his pacifier after a harried search, and shushed him back to a blissful silence as she locked the door of her apartment behind her. She rushed down the stairs carefully, kissing Ray’s head whenever he got a little fussy at being awake this early.

In no time, he was asleep in his car seat, and she was starting the engine. They rolled out of Main Street Apartments’ newly paved driveway, and headed towards her ex-husband’s house.

Arturo wouldn’t like having to look after his son a few hours more than he’s used to without warning, but if the job was as important as Leonard made it sound, he would have to suck it up. He wasted most of his day anyway. That, and she had to keep up appearances.

Sarah Beth could not let Leonard find out that she had a kid.

4:42 A.M.

Sarah Beth blinked sleepily as she stepped into the office, letting the door bang closed behind her.

Two coffees and a five hour energy was sitting pretty on the front desk, beads of condensation sliding down the plastic cups and onto the cardboard cup holder.

“He spoke true,” she murmured, stepping up to the cups and popping one of the straws out of its paper container and into her mouth, crane necking it into the drink.

It tasted good. Seven-dollars-too-expensive good. But still, not worth waking up this early, especially after taking Dante to his Dad. She grabbed the drinks, walking back through the small office’s cubicles to the only office with a light on. The sun hadn’t even risen.

She shoed the door open, and prepared her best glare.

Leonard’s office was impeccable, dust free and teak everywhere it could be. In the middle of his desk sat an ancient, coffee brown typewriter, perfectly maintained, yet still obviously heavily used. Behind it, looming totemically, was Lenoard. A tall man with a skinny face, laugh lines creased his cheeks as he stared down at Sarah Beth.

He was not smiling now.

"Your twenty minutes late." He squinted at her.

"Hair care day," she lied. "Hair comes first." Her hair was tightly pulled into a bun on top of her head. “So what’s the big deal?” Sarah Beth asked, breathing in the fresh pine sent of Lenoard’s office.

He held up one narrow finger to silence her, then used it to gingerly press the play a voicemail on his mobile phone.

It was a young lady's voice. Bell's voice. "Hi daddy! Just wanted to call and tell you about what happened at tea tonight. Kim told me about something that happened at the police station, I don't know if you've heard about it? They arrested the guy, or I guess girl who kidnapped Kyle, she was pretending to be a man, and might have killed him! Kim said she worked for Kyle for over a year! Here's the craziest part-"

Her voice cut off abruptly as Leonard ended the recording.

“Okay, and?” She asked, placing the two coffees on his desk as she cracked the cap of the five hour energy and downed it.

“Perpetrator escaped,” he said.

“How?”

He leaned in, meaningfully. “No one knows. I made some calls, they’re going to send me the camera footage. Officer Newcastle is swinging by, soon as he can.”

“Okay, so, some girl is conning a rich guy on city council. Does it Mulan style, but then gets arrested for his kidnapping slash possible murder. Then she goes and pulls a Houdini, leaving all the cops--Jesus Len, you’re right, this is a good story. We the first ones on this? The Sun ain’t on it yet?”

“Nope. Thank God Bell has dates with Young and Pretty at the station.”

“Shit.” Sarah Beth moved the coffee on the floor, pulling a small laptop from her purse as she spoke. “Shit, okay. We need that footage.”

“Yep.”

“And we need that--whoever was there when she disappeared, get them on the line for an interview, Len.”

“On it,” and he was.

“Fuck, is Juice on for newscast today? We need her.”

“Her day off. Danny’s today,” he said, phone pinned to his head as he dialed a number.

“Call Juice. Need her. Only her,” she said, attention pouring the word processor.

“Yes, I’ll hold.” Then, to her, “I’ll call Juice next.”

Sarah Beth handed him her phone. “You’ve got two hands, don’t you?”

5:25 A.M.

And Parker still hadn’t shown up.

The five fluttered to a six on the dark desk, the clock face lit only by the bright, orange light of a monitor. Instrumental hip hop filled the room, resonating quietly from expensive speakers set throughout the room.

5:26 A.M.

The phrase, burning the midnight oil, came to mind. Although it was incorrect. Burning tomorrow’s midnight oil was more like it.

The clock shuttered to 5:27.

5:27 was a tricky time. The 27 was the sticker, really. It was just too late in the hour. Consider a healthy 5:03.

At 5:03, you could look at your shitty custom Linux clock UI and say to yourself, hey, I can go to bed in a little bit, and it’ll still count as going to bed at 5:00. Even though you know you’re not going to, it still feels better. Even a 5:13 was manageable; it took a little more convincing, but it was manageable.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, 5:48 was workable too. You could say you were going to bed at 6:00, just stop whatever you’re doing at 6:00 and be done with it. 5:58 was even better.

But 5:27? There was just no hope. You just had to find something to do for the next while. You could not just call it a night at night at 5:30. That just felt wrong to Lena.

Or was it Levi?

They stopped to consider. Then, as they did whenever this issue occurred, they asked the group chat. They were generally amusing, and happened to be good at turning a 27 into a 58.

Levi smirked. Maybe they had a bit of a crush? It would not be the first time. Others had been kicked for simping too hard.

== User ‘ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_’ has joined ‘#a)(witch)(needs)(some)(help’. 4 user(s) present. 2 witch(es) lurking. ==

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: yo witches

1815: Hiya

Jeru111: sup bispi

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: i need some help

Jeru111: then i do believe you’re in the right channel!

1815: falling behind on your IT homework again or something? :3

Ainsel: What is it with the overlap of witches and software developers?

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: woah hi n00bie

Jeru111: @ainsel; something something trans girl socks

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: ^

1815: ^

Ainsel: ^

1815: Whatchu need help with bi

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: don’t know who i am right now

Ainsel: Like

Ainsel: metaphysically

Ainsel: ………….?

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: no like. Name wise

Jeru111: so, yes

Ainsel: Oh. I don’t know your name, I’m new here. All I know is that you host

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: who invited u ainsel

Ainsel: D4NT3

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: dante’s tight

1815: virgil disagrees

Jeru111: they passed the entrance exam pretty well

Jeru111: i didn’t fuck with the form this time because they seemed like they actually wanted to learn

Ainsel: I do

Jeru111: brownnoser!

Anisel: I mean. Sure

Ainsel: A witch wants some help, doesn’t she?

Ainsel: she might get some shit on her nose in the process

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: lol

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: here for making me l0l you get your first symb

Ainsel: what?

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: nobod

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: cmon guys n0b0dy told her?

Ainsel: ???

Jeru111: numbers/symbols in name = rank in server basically

Jeru111: more leety name means u been here longer. More trusted/chanOP

Ainsel: Oh. so bispiritual (Did i get that right) has a ton cause they host the server

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: yeah (yes)

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: and you can trade them. I have a ton so it doesn’t matter 4 me but

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: “/givesymb Ainsel 1” to do it if someone said something rlly funny

ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: or helped you out

Ainsel: like Kandi bracelets

Jeru111: xactly

== User ‘ß][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_’ has changed their nick to ‘B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_

== User ‘B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_’ gifted user ‘Ainsel’ one symbol. Use it wisley! ==

Jeru111: Use it wisley!

1815: Use it wisley!

== User ‘U53 17 W1513Y’ has returned. ==

U53 17 W1513Y: Use it wisley! <3

== User ‘U53 17 W1513Y’ has awayed. ==

Jeru111: best bot ever written

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: fuck you all i should have never given the rat bot perms

== User ‘Jeru111’ gifted user ‘U53 17 W1513Y’ one symbol. Use it wisley! ==

== User ‘U53 17 W1513Y’ has returned. ==

U53 17 W1513Y: Use it wisley! <3

== User ‘U53 17 W1513Y’ has awayed. ==

Ainsel: lmfao

1815: just fix the typo silly

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: never

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: i only fix the programming errors not typos #efficient

== User ‘Ainsel’ has changed their nick to “4insel’. ==

Jeru111: nice

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: w00t!

1815: gratz!! :D

4insel: Thanks everyone

4insel: you said you needed help though @bispiritual

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: yes with finding my name rn

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: it’s one of three and i can’t figure it out

1815: I can help

1815 was one of the oldest members of the group. Lena… No, Levi--. Loux shifted in the chair as they stared at the name. They were always helpful, and were almost always the first one to respond to Loux when they posted.

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: how ?

1815: we’ll have an example discussion. I’ll gage which you are by that

Their smile widened as their hands flew across the keyboard, typing quickly, then tapped enter.

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: okay. i’m game :)

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: let’s me and you DM.

The clock read 5:59 A.M. Loux didn’t see it.

6:00 A.M.

It was Thursday morning, and there was a baby in his house.

Arturo had come to this realization moments after he’d been woken up by screaming. He’d been rushing into his study with a loaded pistol, when he saw that there was a baby in the crib, crying his little heart out.

It helped, he supposed, that it was his baby. Little Ray was all grown up it seemed, and had learned to walk the fifty minutes to his daddy’s house all by himself. That, or his Mami had decided (once again) that she wasn’t good enough to be Ray’s Mother, and had dumped all the responsibility on Arturo.

“That’s silly,” Arturo told Ray as he expertly changed him out of his diaper and pajamas. “Mami’s a great mother.” Ray giggled as his Dad kissed him, blowing a raspberry on his forehead. “She’s a horrible wife though,” he said seriously.

And so the morning passed as it usually would, the two watching baby T.V. and eating baby oatmeal as the sun crept through the curtains and played on the plastic baby furniture. Ray played with a set of wooden cars on the carpet as Arturo put the finishing touches on the model he was painting.

Arturo was an only child, so Ray happily reaped the undivided spoils of his abuelita’s generosity, filling his house with toys for him and his son alike. The two were almost perfect mirrors of each other, spilling away hours with intermittent feasting (these signaled to Ray with the word ‘bite’ said in a proffering tone) and playing.

He only found the note when he went outside with Ray to batch prime a new set of models. It was clearly written in Sarah Beth’s looping cursive, barely legible to Arturo. He let Ray chase a ball in his backyard as he puzzled it out.

Arturo,

Sorry. Work called. Big deal. I’ll pay you back, I promise.

P.S.

I PROMISE. Thank you.

Love you and Ray,

S.B.J.

He looked at their son, laughing as he chased a bird in the back lawn. “Sarah Beth Jackson,” he whispered, eyes watering. “That job is going to kill you.”

6:01 A.M.

== User ‘B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_’ has joined ‘#direct)(message)(hub)(’. 15 user(s) present. 32 witch(es) lurking. ==

Lena liked to imagine this channel as a park. Many people talking, but talking quietly in the same place, with birds and dogs and squirrels lazing about. The IRC client she had written herself for the coven had no direct messaging feature built in. Instead, there was a command to have only one person see a message.

Every community, even if it was three people, had drama. Lena’s cybercoven had proven no different. This system of DM had made for a quick and easy to the skinhead wiccan that had snuck in last month

Lena was the only one who had access to them, and even then, she had programmed an hour timer into the command, so she’d actually have to think about the issue instead of just peeking into a person’s private life for no reason.

She’d found that these people trusted her, for better or for worse. She was working hard at becoming the best server owner she could, and took it seriously. She still had time for the bants, though. Speaking of…

Lena laughed, then closed her eyes, vibing to the music for a moment as she typed out her next response.

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: so how do we do this?

1815: well lets see. What are your options?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: lena/levi/loux

1815: .

1815: loux?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: yea

1815: how is that

1815: like how is that even pronounced?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: loo

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: like the guy from ringworld

1815: man’s in my dm’s Louis Woo posting

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: look i was an impressionable youth and my gma had niven on her bookshelf what can i say

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: i had no choice

1815: tbh he’s pretty trans

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: transed by a 80 y/o sifi author trying desperately to write about spaceships, so sad

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: also no. he’s really not

1815: bullshit have you even ringed a world b4?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: okay fair. no. but i have Started the book many times, and that man is a womanizer

1815: okay so that’s like saying zuko is an asshole cause you watched the first episode

1815: he’s got to have his character arc man

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: does somebody Womanize loui woo?????

1815: r.a.f.o. ;3

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: FU 3:

1815: anyway i just have never seen that name before with an x

1815: y cant you be a normal nonbinary and be like. Stone

1815: Oliver

1815: Branch

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: moss

1815: river, you get it

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: Many such cases

1815: Many such cases!

Loux read the words, thinking deeply for a moment before closing their eyes and humming quietly. They looked inside of their center, or at least tried to do something that felt like that, and…

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: short answer; because that’s not me

1815: long answeR?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: uh

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: i’m not nb i’m genderqueer and not really even that. I think I might be two spirit

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: which is like this native american thing. I don’t know much about it but my grandma keeps saying that’s what i am

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: but in my soul i feel like there’s three selves that make up ME

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: like

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: the divine trinity

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: male/female/neither[other]

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: and one of them usually wins out. that’s who i end up feeling like that day

1815: interesting

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: but today it’s just. all

1815: are they alters?

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: no, not really. all me

1815: okay well do you want my opinion

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: sure

1815: i think their may be a fourth you. Or maybe a secret, always you you

1815: an amalg of all the options that’s just…

1815: un nameable. truer than true

She didn’t know. Maybe 1815 was right? That threw a spanner in his identity.

But a spanner can be a useful tool, when it’s a spanner you need.

1815 had sent another message, and Levi realized he’d been staring at the screen for a few minutes now.

He realized the question was rather blunt and personal, but… He felt rather blunt and personal right now.

1815: you okay?

1815: i didn’t chris angel genderfreak you did i

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: no, but i think you might be on to something

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: who are you?

Lena clapped a hand against her forehead.

1815: just a big bird on her journey to find real magic

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: big bird?

1815: 1815

1815: IBIS

Lena smiled.

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: duh :facepalm:

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: well. thanks for the gender workshop, big bird

1815: anytime my human gender protege

1815: with a 4 letter name that starts with L

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: well fairs fair tell me yours (if you wanna)

1815: nah i’m a secretive bird

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: can a bro buy a vowel?

1815: okay, sure :) but it’ll cost you

B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_: only fair

== User ‘B][---$|o][Я][7|_|4|_’ has changed their nick to ‘B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_’. ==

== User ‘B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_’ gifted user ‘1815’ one symbol. Use it wisley! ==

1815: there’s an o. in the middle

**B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_ cherishes the letter O, holding it close to their chest.**

B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_: thanks

== User ‘1814’ has changed their nick to ‘1815!’. ==

1815!: np, thank u! was fun talkin

B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_: t’was

B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_: ttyl?

1815!: sure /me smiles

1815!: oop

**1815! smiles.**

**B][---$|o][R][7|_|4|_ smiles.**

Over the comfy cacophony of her music, she heard a knock at the front door. She rolled away from her desk and to the door, swinging it open and running down the living room stairs and across the hard wood floor of the foyer.

She swung it open, and standing before her was…

Her grandmother.

6:32 A.M.

Jones sat outside the White Picket Trench with his guitar, strumming away at a chord progression that had entered his left hand in his 20’s, and had never left. Playing always came as easy as breathing, sometimes easier, but he’d made certain sacrifices for his age.

Dropping the last two strings from most chords made them fall a little flat, but it sounded better than if he tried to play them with his gnarled pinky and failed. Instead, his stub finger held them still, muting them. His hand had long relearned a G chord with this new technique, but his ear knew the difference.

Just as his body knew the difference between subtle changes in temperature, you could just tell when someone flubs one of the notes in a chord. He’d told himself that anyone walking by likely wouldn’t care, but he cared, and he was sure if the old man was here, he’d be chiding him for his improper play.

“Well, it pays the bills, pops.” His whisper was eaten by the wind, and he knew no one would get close enough to actually listen. Anyone who saw his lips moving assumed he was singing, and he was, in a way. The wind took his words, and returned another’s, intermixed with the melody that blew gently past his ear.

“And what bills are those? Ain’t no gas bill for living on the street, you worthless chud.”

He chuckled, eyes still closed. He may be a lonely dick, but his old man did one thing right: he put the music in his son.

Guitar was the only instrument Jones had fallen in love with, but he had flirted with many more. Piano would still call his heart at times, and when he felt the ache, the library on Beachwood had an old grand piano that Janice at the front desk would let him play some mornings, if it wasn’t too busy.

It was an old, out of tune piece of crap, but it made a nice match with him.

He finished the song, as much as any song is ever finished, and looked up at the sun. It was pretty late by now. He wondered what was keeping Lena from opening? She’d been late before, but always had good excuses. She was a good girl, and he didn’t mind waiting.

He strummed the intro to another meandering improvisation, letting it fill his mind. It wandered, making its way through the many stories it told itself when it wasn’t in direct communication with him, as it was now. The young man he’d met yesterday morning, he’d asked him about his Father.

Was it a coincidence that he was in the wind this morning? He supposed he’d been thinking about the old man… Mother had been haunted by the lack of explanation, and it had hurt Jones, but… If the voices he heard were really their spirit visiting him, shouldn’t he ask?

He’d never thought to. His Father’s visits were brief, and always insulting. He supposed that was in character, but there was always a part of himself that whispered that the voice in his head was just that: a construction of his mind.

He settled further into the song, and began seeking the voice of his father.

6:48 A.M.

“Mornin, Grandma.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lena.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I take that?”

“Please do. It’s awful airish out there, but I know you got the temp high in here.”

“Guilty.”

“You didn’t sleep a wink, did you?”

“No, ma’am. Homework.”

“I said no bullshit, Levi.”

“How do you do that?”

“A-do what, child?”

“Nothing, sorry. How the hell did you get up here?”

“I back pocket drove, quick trip.”

“G-ma, we talked about this, that is not safe.”

“I’ve been doing it since I was younger than your mother was when she had you, boy.”

“And how did she die, huh?”

“I only go with good drivers. Only good people stop for an old lady on the side of the road, and good people are good drivers.”

“I guess. I’m glad you’re here safe though. How’s Rod?”

“You know him. Man was born to be hung.”

“Uh…”

“Not like that, foul child.”

“Thank god.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose…”

“Shush!”

“Aw, let an old woman live, girlie.”

“Fine. Live, but do it when I’m out of the house. Oh shit, speaking of…”

“You late again? Stupid child.”

“Fuck you too, Gramma!”

“You got the bedroom set up for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Phone, wallet, keys?”

“Yeah.”

“Grammy kiss?”

“Uhh, no.”

“C’mere. Love you, baby.”

“Love you--Ah!”

“Ow! What was that for?”

“There was a-a bug on you! Big fucking thing. Wow.”

“Oh, yes. Cicada.”

“The hell are you doing with a cicada on your shawl, woman?”

“You would know, if you had awakened yet.”

“Grandma, we talked about this.”

“Some are late bloomers, that is all that I’m saying…”

“Sure. Show me some proof, someday, and I’ll think about it.”

“Think about this:”

“Oh, Jesus, here we go.”

“Hush. Everyone, every being, every object, works on its own form of life force. Some-”

“Some forms interpret it in different ways but at the core they are all the same, yes Gramma I know, I have to go!”

“Fine. One last hug. It is good seeing you, Loux.”

“Seriously, what is up with that? Don’t smile at me like that, you mischievous bitch!”

“Love you.”

The door clicked closed, and Levi’s grandmother locked it. She smiled to herself, and picked up the dead cicada from the floor of his living room.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some time.

A late bloomer.

7:16 A.M.

Jones was so far deep inside of the song that he didn’t notice as Lena strolled past him to unlock the door.

She stopped, looking down at him as he sang silent words. She stopped with the door half open, then leaned on the glass door, watching him, rapt, for longer than she had ever before.

It was beautiful, an ongoing, always evolving fugue that looped around itself in a thick, multi tonal stream of music. His fingers sped up and down the fret board, resting only briefly when they did at all. Eventually, she had to step inside, leaving him to his mantra.

He spent hours in the song, searching for his father’s voice in the wind.

7:22 A.M.

The sun had fully risen. The mountain drank up the blood-red light.

For the second time that day, Parker died.

7:23 A.M.

Sam yawned. The sun had just risen over the horizon, and was spilling into her little sliver of the collections office. She thought about taking a break to go smoke, just so she could feel the cold February air heat up in the presence of the sun.

While she was out there, she could call Parker, and ask how his job search was going. Then maybe ask him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat with her and Jack later tonight. She wondered how it went with Levi. He was definitely a character, but so was Parker, at times. They would be good for each other, and she knew that Levi was in a tight spot right now…

Stopping with her hand halfway to the bag that held her pack of cigarettes, she realized she’d quit smoking two years ago.

When would it finally stick? She’d put down her last cigarette in June, 2020.

God, but she could use one right now.

The need came on her less and less, but when it did, it was strong, and lingered for a long time. She would need to replace that urge with something else when she got home. Usually alcohol worked as a substitute, or some mindless video game… But Jack had let Danny borrow the PS4. Damn.

And then her phone began to ring. Not her desk phone, but her personal phone. It was an unknown number.

She sighed deeply, crossed her legs, and picked it up.

It seemed the universe had already decided; today was just going to be one of those days.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Hi, is this, Sameera Daylily?” The woman’s voice was low, almost sultry as she spoke.

“Yes, this is her speaking, you can call me Sam.”

“Hello, Sam.” Her voice remained level as she spoke. “This is Investigator Horne of the FBI speaking. Would you be available to answer a few questions today?”

Oh, fuck.

8:01 A.M.

“Give me the headline, Sarah Beth.”

“FBI foiled by conwoman kidnapper, escapes containment, local police bewildered.” Sarah Beth tapped her favorite pen against her lip as she leaned back, letting the words breathe in the space between her and Leonard.

He sat across from her, in the same positions they had been in for hours. Finishing the last bite of the bagel Bell had brought them, he likewise chewed the words. Then he shook his head.

“Too… Saturday morning cartoon. Foiled? Too wordy,” he said.

His phone began to ring, and he stared down at the name on the receiver angrily.

“Bell’s mother. Christ,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, then picked up the phone.“Keep working at it,” he grunted, then shooed Sarah Beth out of his office as he took the call.

She stood staring out at the absolute chaos that had overtaken the larger office. Marco ran copies of the release forms between the two interviewees, both sitting patiently in the waiting room while Bell finished up their last minute make up.

Sarah Beth crossed the room to where a small refreshments table had been set up, grabbing one of the muffins Bell had brought from the bakery she worked at. She stared at the small woman rush between her make-up station and the guests as she bit into the cran-blueberry muffin.

“I had no idea you did that,” she called out to Bell, who was packing away her kit.

“Huh?” The young girl looked up at Sarah Beth through a sheath of kinked black hair, flashing a brief but beautiful smile. “Oh, yeah.” She giggled quietly, then stepped close to her, whispering. “You like those? I made them myself.”

“Wow,” Sarah Beth said dumbly as she looked down at the muffin. Then, panicking, she took another bite. “Itfs fo goog!” she said through the mouthful.

“They’re my favorite too!” She had the good grace not to disgustedly walk away. “But makeup is my passion. I’m going to school for it,” she explained. “You’re Sarah, right?”

“Sarah Beth,” she said after a large swallow. “And you’re Bell?” Like I don’t know.

“Yup! I’m Mr. Grant’s daughter. He said he needed some help up here, and I figured--What’s a coffee and bagel run? He caught me just after the morning rush, so I-”

She was interrupted by Marco, tapping Sarah Beth’s shoulder.

“Eh, sorry, SB?” He looked pleadingly at her, nodding to the two waiting guests. The camera’s and lights had been set up, and the first interviewee had been sat down in the middle of the frame. She was an older woman, hair just starting to gray, but it was obvious she had been beautiful.

The second guest was Young and Pretty herself, the woman who worked the police department’s front desk. Sarah Beth thought her name might have been Kim. Apparently she went for tea with Bell. She momentarily filled with jealousy, then shook her head.

“Right,” she said, looking at Bell regretfully. “Sorry.”

Bell shook her head, hair cascading down in perfect rows. “S’okay. You’re a busy woman. Go kill it,” she said, smiling broadly.

Sarah Beth couldn’t help smiling back at her. She turned to the guest, looking briefly at Marco to give her the all okay. He nodded from behind a mountain of sound and visual equipment, giving her a thumbs up for good measure.

“You said your name was Investigator Horne?” Sarah Beth nodded to the older woman, who looked directly into the camera without being asked.

The woman was fiddling with a small wooden block, some insectoid design partially carved out of a blond, hard, wood. “Yes. Can we make this quick, please?”

“Of course, ma’am. I’d just like to ask you a few questions. How did Kyle Montgomery know this Natalie Dempsey?”

“Well…” The older woman nodded once, her voice low.

8:46 A.M.

Officer Odom had already sweat through his thin, blue button up. He threw on his police jacket, figuring that would hide the sweat stains and cut a nice figure. He stared into his small office’s bathroom mirror. He smelled and looked fine, and not at all like he’d been hungover and barely awake forty five minutes ago.

He’d been woken up by the boss. The press fucks were asking for a clip. The Chief of Police needed to put a good spin on this bitch escaping arrest.

This was going to suck, but it’d be over soon. Maybe five minutes. “Fine”, he said to himself. “Do your worst, universe. I’m gonna be on T.V..”

He stepped out of his office, and glided through the station like he was in a dream. He stopped by Kim’s desk, and nearly began hitting on her before he even looked. That was right. She’d been taken by the fucking press.

He took his buck-tooth grin and James Dean lean off of Kim’s desk, and walked through the front door, a faint smile melting to his serious-business face he used when talking to criminals or the victims of criminals.

The cameras. The fucking cameras were already set up, staring at him, eating his face and making him news. It disgusted him. He walked with his head down, bald spot showing he was sure, like he had some serious shit to say. He supposed he did.

Finally, he made it to the wooden lectern someone had placed in front of the Old Hill Rock. He looked down at the script that had been placed in front of him, and couldn’t help but laugh. He already felt like a puppet, did he really need a reminder that there was a hand so far up his ass he could taste the dirt under its nails?

He recovered from the mistake, clearing his throat. Looking out across the crowd, he picked one camera, and stuck to it. There was a beautifully tall woman behind it, and she did the sign of the cross across her chest as he settled on their camera.

Making girlie’s days, left and right, yessiree.

He cleared his mind and his throat, then began to speak.

“I think I speak for the entire Police Department, when I say…”

9:30 A.M.

“We asked Investigator Aubrey Horne, who arrested Natalie Dempsey, how did Kyle Montgomery know this Natalie Dempsey?”

Sarah Beth watched the older FBI agent’s face fill the screen as her words came out of the speakers. They had barely finished up the recording in time for the 9:30 news slot, and it was a bit sloppy, but they would be the first ones reporting on it.

They had even captured the chief of police giving an official statement. Sure, they weren’t the only ones recording it, but they had gotten the head start. The town millionaire was missing, and the person who did it had escaped from the police department while an experienced FBI agent was watching over her.

It was fucking insane. It was amazing. It was perfect. It was…

“Oh, shit,” she moaned. It was about the time when Artuto usually woke up. She checked her phone, and yup, three missed calls.

And a fourth one incoming. She stepped outside of the studio, then answered, instantly apologizing. “Arturo, I’m so sorry-”

“Is this you on T.V.?” He was speaking quickly, voice garbled through the phone.

“Uhh, no,” she said. “It’s Juice.”

“Duh!” He said, and she could hear the program in the background of the call. “It’s you though, I can tell your style, just by the way it’s put together.”

She smiled.

“I mean wow,” he kept on, praising her, almost out of breath. Then, finally. “You did a great job, Sarah Beth.”

“Thank you, Arturo. We made the C.O.P. pretty mad, but we got it first. Thanks for looking after Ray.”

“Ay, no issue. Was my day anyway. Good stuff though. Tell them you need a goddamn raise. I don’t know what time you got here, but it’s too damn early for any decent person to be awake. And you’re decent people, Sarah Beth.”

She laughed musically, though not to her own ears if you’d’ve asked her. “Thanks, Art. I’ll see you soon.”

They both hung up at the same time.

Sarah Beth looked up at the cold, blue sky, and smiled into the sun.

< ≡ >

#perdition #perdition 1.a #tw death mention #interactive writing #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #choose your own adventure #cyoa #if #if game #choose your own story

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indiatrendzs · 21 days

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Mindful Decor, Hand Carved Armoires & Doors

Intricately Hand carved Door and crafted from exotic woods like teak, rosewood, authentic traditional Indian furniture is rustic and very solid. Beautiful patinas, colors of the deserts and carvings that are reminiscent of old architecture door, Indian furniture is in a class by itself. Rich with history of the old world and vedic symbols, armoires and cabinets made with gorgeous woods and…

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bansenshukai · 2 years

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a little drabble -- izuna&tobirama fake engagement (907 words)

“Senju!” Izuna yells as he slams open the door.

Tobirama looks unfazed– he doesn’t even look up as his brush glides against the inkstone before returning to make a row of barely-legible characters. Izuna doesn’t bother to check what he’s writing; he’s seen enough to know that it’s fuuinjutsu, and he has no interest in ever touching sealing theory or the minutiae of minor tenketsu control.

“Uchiha,” Tobirama replies. “Is there a reason you’ve come to bother me outside of my working hours?” His voice is as cold and unreadable as always, and even though Izuna knows he needs Tobirama’s cooperation, he can’t help the little flare of rage that spikes at the complete indifference Tobirama displays.

Izuna pulls the fan from his sleeve and tosses it on the desk, where it barely avoids smearing the scroll Tobirama’s working on. Tobirama’s brows furrow just the slightest, and he reaches for the fan.

“We’re getting engaged,” Izuna tells him haughtily, injecting every last drop of Uchiha pride into the steel of his spine, willing Tobirama to agree easily. “That’s the courting fan my father gave my mother to commemorate the start of their relationship.”

Tobirama stares at the fan in his hand without blinking. It’s an old thing now– Izuna had to dig it out of storage, since Father had hidden it deep away after Mother had left. Still; it’s richly patterned and printed on the finest Ame silk, and the gold beads dangling from the teak frame are worth over two months of civilian wages, even if the rest of it is hideously old fashioned.

“Why would you give me this?”

“To get engaged, Senju, did you not hear me the first time? I thought you were supposed to be a genius,” Izuna retorts. It’s a petty and stupid thing to say– he knows firsthand how much of a genius Tobirama is.

That goddamn Hiraishin. No shinobi should be capable of creating an entirely new branch of fuuinjutsu– he’s heard Tobirama claim it’s ninjutsu, not fuuinjutsu, but the base of the technique is rooted in seals. If you need Uzumaki Ryo’s Compendium of Fifth Order Seals and Runes to decipher it, it’s fuuinjutsu, no matter what semantics some stuck-up Senju wants to claim otherwise.

Tobirama just looks at him. “Why?”

Izuna narrows his eyes. “Why are you asking questions– so ungrateful, after everything the Uchiha have done for Konoha, don’t you think you owe it to us to just say yes to a simple request? And you owe me personally. The humiliation I had to endure, after my mortal enemy forced his way into our clinic and shoved his chakra through my stomach with all the manners of some lowborn farmer who’s never seen an etiquette book in his life–”

“Should I have not saved your life,” Tobirama says flatly. It’s barely a question, so Izuna doesn’t deign to treat it as such.

“What good does saving do anyway,” Izuna mutters bitterly. “Saving. Hah. Do you see yourself as the Uchiha’s righteous savior, come to save our clan from its barbarous leader and archaic traditions? It feels good doesn’t it– having our clan fall over themselves to grovel at your feet– woe is me, I’m Senju Tobirama and I receive too much praise from my former sworn enemy!”

Tobirama continues to give him that even, lidless gaze; devoid of blinks. It’s rather like a snake– he thinks snakes would have suited Tobirama as a summons, low-bellied and conniving little creatures they are, but of course he has tiger summons instead. It’s things like this that make Izuna skip the evening prayers at Ameratsu’s shrine. If Senju Tobirama gets to have the greatest of all cats at his beck and call, there is no higher power in this universe.

Izuna glares. “It’s a cover. A distraction. A ruse. With the rumors about your older brother and mine, we need to give them a bigger fish to fry. Metaphorically.”

“I can catch any size fish you’d like to eat,” Tobirama tells him absently, and picks up the fan, tucking it into his desk. He turns to the side to pick up a kunai, evidently done with the conversation.

Izuna gapes, unable to believe the sheer gall of it all– is Senju ignoring him– how dare he– and he hadn’t even bothered to return the fan–

And now there is blood, beading up in shiny droplets where Tobirama has used the kunai on the back of his hand.

“If you’re performing a blood sacrifice to get me to leave your office, you could just ask instead.”

Tobirama doesn’t respond. He dips his thumb in the blood, presses it on a blank sheet of paper and flares his chakra through it, then picks it up and hands it to Izuna.

Izuna stares at it. “Senju, why did you just hand me your trash? I’m not your personal maid, surely you can afford to hire someone.”

Tobirama has returned to writing his fuuinjutsu scroll. “Engagements run both ways, Uchiha. The fan is your token, that paper is mine. A blood seal is the Senju tradition. Announce it as you wish, that seal cannot be forged and will do away with any who doubt your word.”

Izuna tucks the piece of paper away in his pouch. “What a barbaric tradition,” he mutters, and makes sure to leave the door slightly open on the way out.

#tobirama #izuna #to clarify i consider this a platonic izu&tbrm relationship #they just happen to be getting engaged. why? because i think it's funny and i said so #this one's been sitting in the drive for a while #what is tumblr for if not for posting your silly self indulgent writing #drabble

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deadhumourist · 2 years

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Steam

A/N: Full credit for this idea and plot goes to the lovely @just-here-for-the-moment! After lots of unhinged messages back and forth this fic fell out. A little comfort and smut for when you’re having a bad day.

Rating: 18+, no minors

Pairing: Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader. No defining description of reader.

Warnings: Jack is his own warning, having a bad day, baths, brief mention of food, smoking, oral f!receiving, dirty talk, fluff. I think that’s it?

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

You walk in the door of the ranch you share. It's an older, but roomy house with warm teak floorboards that creak gently as you move over them.

It's been a shit day. In fact, a shit week. Today you struggled to concentrate on work, your after-work meet-up hadn't gone as planned (at all) and you felt ready to throw the towel in. Then crawl under it and hide from the world.

As you round the corner of the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, you find your handsome cowboy standing over the kitchen island, preparing two grilled cheese sandwiches. With the coffee already brewing.

He raises his head to greet you but immediately clocks that something is wrong.

He's not used to you looking so sullen.

"Oh no, what's wrong honeybee?" He asks, rounding the island to gently place his hands on your shoulders. He tips your chin up to him with one finger.

The corners of your mouth are turned down and the unshed tears of frustration are clinging to your long lashes. It tugs violently at his heart and he pulls you close to him.

Your hands automatically come up to hold his waist, fingertips skimming over the broad expanse of his back.

"I just had a terrible day and I feel heavy and...sad. I'm just sad. I don't want to talk about it."

Jack understands. In his line of work he's witnessed and done terrible things and he knows the futility of trying to put those feelings into words.

So he just pulls you closer into a bear hug, wrapping his arms around you, with his hand coming up to cup the back of your head tenderly.

"My mama believes the only way to wash away a really bad day is with good old soap 'n water. I'm gonna draw you a bath. You just sit tight." He murmurs into your hair as he strokes your back.

He reluctantly pulls away from you, and before long to hear the familiar whistling of the old pipe system of the house. Even though the ranch has been renovated, its old bones are still intact.

After a few minutes, Jack comes out and gently takes your hand, leads you through the doorway, into a large room with the sauna tub. It's half-full, steaming and looks incredibly inviting.

You turn to him. "Join me?"

He knows he can't resist you.

“In a minute honeybee, why don't you settle in so long, I'll be back in a twitch.”

You sink into the fragrant hot water, and you feel your worries melt away as it engulfs you. Jack knows you so well. The fresh, light scent of roses drifts up in the steam and you fill your lungs to the brim. Your favourite.

Moving back, you peer up at the ceiling, where Jack had installed a ceiling window a few months ago, creating the effect of a hot bath under the twinkling stars.

You love bringing the outdoors in, and the few large plants tastefully dotting the bathroom makes you feel like you're a goddess in a hot spring on some deserted tropical island.

By the time Jack peeks back round the door, your arms are spread out along the lip of the square tub, and your head is thrown back in relaxation.

You hear the click of the door closing.

Wresting your eyelids open, you see Jack methodically taking off his shirt. When he was home he never bothered with the top buttons, and it slid off his muscular arms smoothly.

As he starts unbuckling his belt, you savour the sight of his beautiful shoulders and chest. A few scars littered an otherwise perfect canvas, but you loved them all the same.

Seeing his large hand undoing the buttons on his jeans (he shunned zippers) you feel a twinge of excitement. Even after so long together seeing him bare still gives you butterflies.

He was incredibly handsome and all yours.

Once naked as the day he was born, he reaches out to the sink, taking the lit cigar he came back with and placing it between his lush lips.

You huff out a light laugh. Only your cowboy would smoke in the tub. He knows you secretly love the smell.

The water swells and swishes as he takes up residence behind you, using his unoccupied hand to lightly press your forehead back until your head rests on his collarbone.

"Relax sweetheart, I've got you."

You melt into him, his strong body enveloping yours like you were carved to fit his hollows.

You breathe slowly, settling into a languid rhythm with him.

After a few moments, his hand starts idly tracing a line down your arm, skimming your sides, light as a feather. As if he’s memorizing your contours that he already knows so well.

The bathroom is quiet save for the gentle sloshing of water as his arm moves, and the whinny of a horse from the outer reaches of the ranch.

Jack has never been able to be good around you. There's something about you that frays his nerves in the best way possible - he struggles to keep himself under control.

He silently takes a drag and his other hand subtly changes course, now tracing your hip, and mapping a path along the curve of your breast.

You shudder as he deliberately traces his finger over your nipple, making it harden instantly.

Jack leans down, his moustache brushing the shell of your ear. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he husks "Seems like the scented bubble bath ain't the only little flowers that are bloomin’ for me tonight"

He continues his trail over your body. The scalding water suddenly feels too hot, even if this is how you've always liked it.

The fresh, clean rose scent mingles with the dry, spicy leather aroma of the cigar and pressed against Jack, there's another scent that's just....him. One you would recognize anywhere. It's a heady combination and you can feel the tense threads in your mind unspooling as your body takes over. You try to follow the thin wisp of the cigar smoke disappearing into the steam.

His hand travels down again, gently circling your bellybutton then trailing downwards.

By this time the steam has completely fogged up the sky window and it feels like you're ensconced in your own private, fragranced bubble.

You feel like you've been hidden away from the awful world and right now all your senses are flooded and focused on Jack.

Jack finally places the spent cigar to the side of the tub.

Dips his hand into the water to warm it.

Then it snakes up to gently caress your breast. This is one of the many parts of you that Jack loves, usually nuzzling or scenting you any time he can.

A low hum escapes his throat as he brushes a thumb over your other nipple, a deliberate tweak to edge you.

With your attention here, you don't notice his other hand until you feel a light brush between your legs.

By this time you're soaking from Jack's teasing and he extends his middle finger, dipping down into you as he purrs at your ear "Hmm my honeybee has been busy. I want to taste that honey from source".

Jack's duality has always surprised you. He presses tender, slow kisses to your temple, your cheeks, working down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear. He does this while rubbing steady circles on your clit, exactly the speed and pressure he knows will send you over the edge.

Drawing a deep sigh from you, you wrap your eager hands around his strong thighs to ground you. He knows he's doing good, and he increases his loving assault on your tits, now pinching them gently, making the pleasure, light pain and softness meld into something bone-melting and unbearably sweet.

He growls into your ear "Time to sit up for me honey, so I can take what belongs to me."

And with that he hoists you up onto the lip of the tub, splashing water over the rim carelessly.

He spreads your legs, and the way he looks at your uncovered core sends another involuntary shiver through you.

Gently pushing you backwards, he grips both your thighs and shifts to bring you closer to him.

Starting with a slow, experimental lick, he quickly loses complete control, plunging his curious tongue into you, taking turns flicking, swirling and sucking at your most sensitive parts.

You had been turned on since Jack took off his clothes so within minutes you could feel your orgasm starting to crest violently like an oncoming storm.

Jack doesn't even need to use his hands. His skilled, dirty talking mouth knows how to ruin you and you finally fall apart, a familiar white hot explosion behind your eyelids and your body seizing up like it's been hit by lightning.

Jack can't help the possessive growl that escapes his throat as he greedily drinks you down, lapping up every drop you give him.

As you come down he tries to soften his touch, instead pressing sweet kisses to your pussy, a wordless admission of love.

You look down at him, his strong curved nose pressed into your mound as he pouts and presses another kiss there. You feel so relaxed and cared for.

#jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey/f!reader #agent whiskey #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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