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paper-stars-and-fireflies · 4 years

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Tell me, should I let you go?

Tags: RadioDust, Trans!Angel Warnings: Drug Use, Addiction Fic was inspired by the song Sober by Bad Wolves. Listen while you read! Angel Dust woke up in his bathtub, again. His neck hurt from being bent forward overnight, and his back and joints all ached from the cramped spaces and unnatural angles. At least the cool tile felt nice. Dizziness washed over him as he tipped his head back, trying to right his world, and soon after he was scrambling for the toilet, dry heaves wracking his frame. He spit, if just to relieve the nausea, and settled back against the wall, one arm feebly reaching for the vanity. There was a snuffling and scraping sound and all of a sudden Angel’s lap was full of pig, his pet bounding back and forth across him, desperate for attention.

“Be easy on daddy, now,” Angel moaned, scooping up the pig and cradling him. The nausea was ebbing slightly, but not enough. He turned his head, coughing and hacking into the toilet again. Just holding Fat Nuggets felt like too much, but Angel managed to claw and stumble his way to his feet. His reflection looked worse than he felt, mascara and eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and his eyes red around the edges. His throat felt scratchy and a fresh wave of dizziness had him stumbling forward into the sink. “Saint’s sake, am I still drunk?” he mumbled, fumbling for his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sugar and stomach acid, and it took him twice as long to get himself looking presentable, crumbled clothes aside. The dizziness and nausea had more or less left him to fester, but the lights felt too bright and a migraine had settled behind his left eye. He matched his steps to the slow pulse of his head, wobbling around his room as he unceremoniously stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts. He had no plans to go out, so he didn’t bother getting too dolled up. He checked his phone, but there were no messages, not from work, not from his family, not even from Alastor. Probably for the best, even though he was craving a few sweet words this morning. Better to lay low and not let anyone realize how he was. There were empty bottles and plastic cups, and evidence of the fun that was wreaking so much havoc on him this morning scattered around the room. He cleaned it all up, burying it in his trash so no one would find it later. He should feel ashamed, maybe, drinking, smoking, maybe even popping a pill or two, but it wasn’t such a big deal. Just a couple drinks, a smoke, a couple pills. No one had to know, and he’d been so good. They had to give him that. This was just one of those, whaddaya call’em? Cheat days. It was just a lil treat. One time thing. He placated himself, shoving off the bits of shame and regret crawling under his skin. Angel settled into his bed, Fat Nuggets happily curled up against him, grumbling as he thumbed through the TV channels. It made his head hurt that much more, but frankly he’d take that over the silence, in the room or in his head. He scratched idly at the inside of his arm, only glancing down when he realized he’d picked at a scab. A very new one. He swore, tearing tissues out of their box, knocking over everything else on the nightstand. Angel dabbed at the tiny wound, peering closer. It was definitely a needle mark, and not the only one. He yanked down on the sleeve of his shirt, casting furtive glances around his room. It was fine, it was okay. It would be gone in a couple hours, a day top. It was tiny. No one had to know he hadn’t just fallen off the wagon, that he’d jumped headfirst. It was fine. He just had to stay home, lay low one day, be extra careful from here on. He crouched by the bed, picking up the things he’d knocked over. A couple framed pictures of his friends, another of him and Alastor dressed up in silly Valentine’s themed costumes. They’d thrown a party back in February for his six months sober celebration. There was a lopsided stuffed deer, a prize Al had won for him at Hell’s carnival, back on one of their early dates. When Fat Nuggets had torn it up one night, Al had hushed him, stitching it up and adding a few personal touches, showing him anything could be repaired. He set everything back up neatly. No biggie. This was something else that could be fixed. No big deal. Definitely not, until there was a knock at his door. “Angel? You okay?” Charlie’s innocent voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heaved himself onto his feet and stumbled to the door as fast as he could manage, leaning against it to hold it shut. “Just peachy, dollface. Ya need something?” he called through the door, making sure all the locks were on. He pushed the chain lock all the way across, quieting the metal with his fingertips. “You’re late for your check-in session, I was making sure you were up.” “Check-in?” “Did you forget? Today’s the 5th, you were supposed to meet me downstairs an hour ago.” Charlie’s voice was picking up a suspicious edge he didn’t like. Of course today would be a check in. How had he forgotten that? He was so careful, making sure he’d clear his appointments so he could live pretty freely under the radar. “Sorry doll, I, uh, just over-slept. Stayed up too late….watching too many movies!” He bit at his lip, not buying his own excuses. Clearly, she wasn’t either. “Angel, let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She insisted. Angel huffed, putting on his usual demeanor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have practice faking it. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Angel in his t-shirt and sports shorts, a button down shirt only partially blocking out the pride pun printed on his shirt in pastel colors. The sleeves hung down to half-way down his forearms, carefully folded. Charlie studied him, suspicion and confusion warring across her face. “Something wrong, doll? I was in the middle a somethin.” He tried to hurry her along, one arm braced against the door frame. The injured arm was tucked against his back, the elbow carefully hidden with the cuff. “I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.” Charlie finally admitted, staring at his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the shirt looked wrong on him. Finally, she smiled, pointing at it. “I like your shirt. It’s good to cope through positive humor.” Angel glanced down. ‘The first gender’s free,’ the pink text read. ‘Too bad I needed a refund’, the white and blue text finished. He laughed with her, but it felt stuck in his throat. He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “So look, can we reschedule the uh, check-in, doll?” He tried to keep his voice steady, his smile wide. Charlie waved one hand, still giggling. “Sure, sure,” she called, turning away. “I’ll see you after lunch then, my office. Bye Angel!” Oh sugar honey. Angel bit his lip, keeping his internal screams to himself, willing himself to shut the door calmly and muffle his impending break-down in a pillow. By two in the afternoon, Angel had scrubbed himself head to toe, made sure his makeup was flawless, perfumed, eaten, drank, anything and everything to beat back last night’s demons and act the part of the perfectly adapted, normal, and completely clean Angel Dust he’d been becoming the last eight or so months. ‘Just one quick meeting, no big deal,’ he kept reminding himself. He sauntered into Charlie’s office, plopping down into the chair opposite her desk, checking his nails to keep up his bored act. The marks on his arm were all but gone now, but there were still a few nagging symptoms of a come down he hadn’t quite chased off yet. Charlie shut the door behind him, part of her pledge to privacy, and sat across from him, separated by a massive wood desk that was definitely made for one of her parents. She just looked tiny, sitting behind it. “Okay! So, we are… just shy of one year! How are you feeling today?” Charlie consulted her paperwork, searching around for her pen as she spoke. It was the one she’d taken from Katie Killjoy, way back at the hotel’s launch. “Same ol’, bored as hell, but doin’ my best. Clean, nice, and well-adjusted.” Angel ticked off on his fingers, reciting the three goals Charlie pushed all of her patrons towards. She hummed, clicking the pen a few times before she began to take notes. She probed at him with the usual list of questions, asking about his recent activities, work, friends, mood, and how he was coping and feeling about each of the problems he’d mentioned in previous meetings. He could see she’d drawn his shirt in the margins. ‘Piece. Of. Cake.’ he congratulated himself, standing up and starting to excuse himself. He’d made it through the full hour without a single slip up. “Sit back down, Angel.” Charlie scolded, setting her page down flat. She dropped the pen, eyeing the chair when he didn’t. He sighed, plunking back down. “What’s up, boss?” He asked, arms crossed. Charlie reached over the desk, yanking his sleeve up before he could stop her. “I knew it.” she hissed, sitting back in her chair, hands wrapped around her elbows, arms pressing flat against her ribs. “Angel, you’re not even close to clean.” “What! That’s playing dirty! I am! Well, I was. Definitely was! I was being a super good boy, but then, I dunno, something happened, and then I guess I made a mistake last night, and then I guess, I dunno. A lot happened last night, an’ I don’t remember none of it, but I swear! I was clean until yesterday! I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t being completely truthful, he’d been sneaking drinks and hits of whatever coworkers had on hand while he was at work, but he definitely couldn’t tell her that, and he really had been cutting back… Why couldn’t he remember last night? “Angel, you’ve come to check-ins still stoned before, just… stop.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Last night, Alastor brought you home from Val’s. You were a huge wreck. He took you upstairs, but you started screaming at us and locked yourself in your room.” She paused, looking up at him, willing him to say something, but Angel, for once, had nothing. “Have you ever told me the truth?” Charlie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She circled the desk, opening the door with a resigned, defeated look. Angel frowned, knowing he was the cause, but not how to fix it. Getting high at work wasn’t surprising, but to get totally wrecked wasn’t right. Angel shuffled, thinking he was being dismissed, but what happened next was so much worse. Alastor walked in, face blank and perfectly schooled into place. Charlie retook her seat, gesturing to the open chair beside Angel. Al took it, not looking at him. He just stared straight ahead, completely zoned out. “Angel, you were already on your last warning before this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Charlie tried again. Angel opened his mouth, starting over with what he’d already tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Neither Charlie or Alastor so much as twitched as he tried spinning line after line, trying for pity, sympathy, humor, anything. When she couldn’t take anymore, Charlie shook her head, scribbling away on a sheet of paper. Angel couldn’t make out the words, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It felt like his whole head was throbbing and the room was spinning. How hot was it in here anyway? He shoved his sleeves up, already caught out. It was hard to catch his breath, he slumped forward, tempted to put his head between his knees. Were his ears ringing, or was that Al’s static? “Angel,” Charlie said, clearly not for the first time. Concern was leaking into her voice, and he fished himself back out, sitting up, head lolling to one side. Al stayed silent, not offering a hand, a word, even a tune. He had never felt so alone in a room full of people who were supposed to care about him. So much for that. “Angel, I have to evict you.” She said finally, sliding the page over to him. “You have to sign this.” It wasn’t possible to hold back the tears dripping down his face, and just as impossible to figure out why he couldn’t stop. Who cared about the dumb hotel. He had any number of places he could go. Molly had a spare room, if he wanted to go back to the mob. Cherri had a couch, and he’d already thrown his lot in with hers for turf wars. Hell, even Val would take him back and let him live in a studio if he did more videos. Screw the Hotel! Angel growled, throwing his things into duffel bags, ripping his posters off the wall, slamming the drawers closed after emptying them. Fat Nuggets hid under his bed, snuffling sadly, but he didn’t have it in him to apologize yet, even if the pig was innocent. Sometimes he just had to stay angry. “I would think you wouldn’t want to destroy your own possessions, darling.” Alastor spoke softly from the open doorway, looking around slowly. Angel pouted, looking more pathetic than mad, but he didn’t care. He didn’t notice when Al had gotten there, but it didn’t matter. “I don’t possess anything. Anything that’s mine gets broke or taken away.” He said pointedly, snatching the pictures off his nightstand. He inspected them, finally dumping them in the wastebasket by the vanity. Alastor blinked, his radio noise some garbled music that was probably supposed to calm his nerves, but they just grated on them more. Angel did his best to ignore him, storming around the room, packing away every possible hint he’d spent a moment in the room. Finally his last nerve snapped, worn thin by his unhelpful, intrusive, cold boyfriend. He snatched the deer plush off his nightstand, the last thing left unpacked, and hurled it at the Radio Demon’s chest. There was sharp feedback as it struck him, like a microphone dropping or a headset being plugged in. “Would you just get out of here!” He screamed, voice shattering. Alastor looked passively at him, picking up the doll slowly, smoothing its short fur. “Very well. I will wait for you in the foyer, if you prefer.” Alastor turned, still cradling the deer. “Would you prefer I take Fat Nuggets, or can you manage, love?” His trademark smile drooped, dipping into something smaller, sadder, but sincere, broken-hearted love in an instant. Angel sniffled, dragging his arm across his face. Saints’ sake, his makeup was wrecked all over again. “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Angel choked out, grabbing for more tissues. Alastor set the doll down on the bed, coming closer. Angel let him into arm’s reach, but he wasn’t ready to be touched just yet. “I’m waiting on you, my dear.” Alastor repeated, gesturing to Angel’s bags. “What for? Ain’t ya done with me for bein’a a dirty wh-” Angel was cut off with a harsh look from Alastor, contempt and scorn he rarely wore. “You’re nothing of the sort. I discussed this very carefully with Charlie last night, I’m very sorry we did not make ourselves clearer.” Alastor fetched the pictures from the wastebasket and looked at them, keeping his hands busy. “You ain’t breakin’ up wit me?” Angel asked again, eyes wide. But he was sure that Al had been so cold because… “Never, my love. I would never abandon you over something so trivial.” Alastor set the pictures aside, finally lifted his hands, cupping the spider’s face gently. His gloved thumbs cleared away the last of his love’s tears. “But you were so….dead?” Angel tried, sniffling again. “I was so worried about you, darling, I was beside myself. I stayed with you all night, and spoke with Charlie once I was sure you were quite alright by yourself.” “So Charlie is kicking me out -” “You’ll be moving in with me, my love.” Alastor spoke softly, eyes downcast. He drew Angel in closer, pulling him to his chest. “Charlie agreed it would be better for you, but to keep it quiet. If that’s not what you want, then-” “No! No, no no, I, Al, I want that, I just. I don’t get it.” Angel sighed, resting his weary head on Al’s shoulder, four arms wrapped loosely around him. He knew not to hold too tight, or else Al got squirrely. Al drew back, but only slightly. He pressed his forehead to Angel’s, his ears and horns tangling gently with Angel’s hair. “Addiction is difficult, and it can only be fought with attention and support, not alone, isolated in a hotel room. I’d like to give you that, if you’ll have me.” There was hope, love, faith, and trust in Alastor’s voice, everything Angel had ever wanted, truly wanted, the things he’d tried so long to replace with the high, trying to stuff his feelings with drugs. “I’m never going to let you go.” Angel answered, new tears prickling at his eyes. “Let’s go home, my darling.”

#radiodust #Trans!Angel Dust

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

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Silver Service

Has Bastien finally run Anton to ground? Drake returns to Applewood to find his mentor absent.

Word Count 3289

A/N warnings - a little implied smut. Not suitable for under 18s

11 Making Plans

Anton scowled as he looked out over the ground far below the airplane.

‘Why the hell are we travelling by this beat up old piece of shit? Why aren’t we in a jet – what happened to the helicopter?’ Claudius cleared his throat

‘Funds are low, Sir’ he said ‘We had counted on everything coming together after the coronation, but the gunman put paid to it all’

‘I’d like to know who hired that amateur – he should have hit his mark instead of botching the job’ he snarled

‘We’re still trying to find out, Sir’ he answered ‘and that’s not easy considering the King’s guard have him under lock and key’

‘Why the fuck don’t we have surveillance?’ he raged ‘What do I pay you for?’

‘I’m sorry Sir, since the botched assassination the Guard are on high alert. They’ve had staff at all the significant houses re vetted. We’ve still got one or two operatives but they daren’t make a move until they need to’

‘How about that bitch Lucretia?’ he asked

‘She’s at Applewood, where the King and Olivia retreated when the Palace was evacuated. That seems to be the base of operations right now, the head of the guard and his woman are there – and Walker and the American woman too. Apparently the whole court are touring Cordonia, attending charity events at any Duchy that cares to host one’ Anton rose an eyebrow

‘That could be turned to our advantage. We need to pay close attention to the itinerary’

-------

Damien hit the tarmac running. They had decided landing at the same airfield as Claudius would be too risky, so an SUV waited to take himself and James there as fast as possible. The fact that they had travelled by jet and the others had been in an ordinary prop plane meant that they had some time in hand. A second vehicle tailed them, and they set off at breakneck speed, calling Bastien to keep him up to date.

The roads they had to travel were narrow and little used. They needed to get close to the airfield and wait for them to leave. Their luggage had tracking devices, so unless they got wind of that, all they had to do was to follow at a distance and maintain surveillance of their destination. Simply arresting them straight away would mean that they would miss out on discovering his power base. From the location of the airfield there were a number of possibilities – they may be based in Valtoria, Portaviera or the Commery Isles, presuming that they didn’t travel any further afield.

They had the advantage of the Charity tour under their belt. They had locations set but the itinerary was still fluid. Bastien planned for the tour to go as close and as soon as possible to Anton’s location so that they could either force him to act and make himself vulnerable, or make their own move to take him out.

Damien had little idea of the terrain and geography of Cordonia, so was relying on James to keep him informed. They parked the SUV in a field entrance half a mile from the airfield, out of sight of the only road that serviced the tiny runway. That road lead to a wider main road, where the other SUV waited to cover the least likely direction that Anton was likely to take. They expected him to make for the road to Valtoria, where another road junction would determine whether he was aiming to go further to the coast at Portaviera, or further still to the Commery Isles.

James told him that the duchy of Valtoria currently had no Duke or Duchess, as the childless Duchess had passed away a few weeks ago. She was reclusive and little was known of her affiliation for or against Constantine, so there was a possibility that Anton might be making for that location. The nobility at Portaviera was known to be sympathetic to Liam, so the last prospect of someone sympathetic to the Sons of the Earth was Lord Neville Delacouer in the Commery Isles. He had been a staunch supporter of Constantine, and appeared to pay allegiance to the new King, but he was an unpleasant character. He often said one thing to the new King’s face and another to other members of the council of nobles when discussing Liam’s ideas of admitting commoners to the Council.

He breathed a sigh of relief when his phone pinged at the presence of the tracking devices planted at the Monaco border. Half an hour later, a car passed the road end, and James eased out to follow at a discrete distance - out of sight but within signal range.

Half an hour later, the car bearing Anton Severus made the turn toward Valtoria.

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‘Valtoria, you say?’ Liam said thoughtfully. ‘I was considering who to award the Duchy to now that Duchess Van Hausen has passed away without an heir. The manor is still occupied by her staff and they’re maintaining it until it has a new owner. I suppose if she sympathised with Anton, he might make use of the estate.’ He turned to Bastien ‘Has the staff been vetted recently?’

‘We’ve made our best efforts, but with the recent funeral arrangements it’s been difficult, and she was so reclusive that we didn’t even have a list available. I’m uncertain as to whether to back off or go ahead with the checks. If we don’t do the same as we are with the other duchies, it might make him suspicious.’

‘At your discretion, Bastien’ Liam replied ‘I trust your judgement. Just let me know what you’re doing and I’ll give you whatever funding you need’

‘Thankyou Sir. I had planned to send the charity tour where Anton was going, but it’s a bit tricky as there’s nobody available to arrange an event for Valtoria’

‘Don’t they have the annual lantern event coming up?’ Liam said ‘We could contact the majordomo at the Manor and suggest we use that to raise money for their chosen cause’

‘Excellent Idea, your Grace’ Bastien said ‘I’m sure I can involve Nazario. I’ll contact him and we can start making plans’

------

‘So our first stop is Valtoria?’ Sophia asked Bastien as she stacked the plates from their dinner to go back to the kitchens. ‘It all seems rather last minute’

‘It is, the date of the festival is fixed and it’s fortuitous that it’s only two days away’ answered Bastien ‘That gives us time to reconnoitre the manor before the Court arrives.’ Sophia stopped and looked at him intently.

‘Us?’ she questioned ‘You said you’d step back from active duty’ He sighed.

‘I have to be nearby’ he said ‘I can’t do everything remotely from here, if communications break down it could be catastrophic, no matter how much I trust my men’ Sophia crossed her arms and glared at him. He shrugged ‘I’ll be in a surveillance van away from the action, but close enough to follow in when the coast is clear’

‘And when do you judge that the coast is clear?’ she asked tartly. He got up and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his and looking intently into her eyes.

‘Sophia, you have to trust me. I’ve been doing this for a long time. You’ll be safe here, I’ll assign you your own guard – James is with Damien right now’ She looked down in defeat.

‘I’m sorry Bas, it just makes me feel nervous. I can’t lose you now’ He let go of her hands and rubbed her upper arms before drawing her to him.

‘I promise I’ll come back to you’ he said as she nestled into his broad chest and her scent rose to him. ‘This is my job, and when Anton has been neutralised I can rest easy – and so can you, and Liam and Olivia as well.’ He squeezed her tight ‘Believe me, I don’t want to lose you either, and this is the best I can do to protect you as well as my King and my country.’ She drew back and looked up at him

‘That’s what you said before’ she said in a small voice.

‘I have Damien to help me this time, as well as all my men.’ Bastien went on reassuringly ‘He’s got a good reputation – he’s the best man for the job. We have the advantage this time too. We know where Anton is and if we move fast enough he won’t be ready for us’ She smiled wanly

‘When are you going?’ she asked

‘Soon, Lewis will call when we’re ready to go’ he said, and took her over to the couch, sitting and drawing her down next to him, wrapping her in his embrace. She rested her head on his chest again, and this time he inclined his head so that his chin rested on hers and her hair tickled his nose. He took a deep calming breath which she subconsciously copied. He felt her warmth and closed his eyes to commit every sense of her to memory so he could recall it when he needed the strength to remember his purpose. He felt the vibration of the phone in his pocket. Lewis was calling him away.

------

Riley held on to the door handle of the SUV grimly as Drake barrelled down the track toward the tarmacked road. She knew rebuking him for rattling her around like an egg in a carton would do no good – in fact he might show off his driving skills more, so she gritted her teeth and endured. He chatted amiably as if his driving was the most natural normal thing in the world.

‘You really showed some skill catching fish for dinner’ he said ‘Next time I’ll leave you by the lake and I’ll go off after bigger game’ A vision of him coming back down the track with a deer across his shoulders briefly flashed through her imagination, and she shook her head to get rid of the image. She wondered whether it would be better not to tell him outright that roughing it had been a little harder than she had imagined.

It wasn’t that she liked her creature comforts – a decent bathroom for one – but a little more concession to modern life would have been nice. At least the bed had been comfortable, she told herself.

Ah, the bed. A smile flickered across her face and fixed itself as she remembered the times between the fishing and cooking and hiking. Their limbs entangled, lips grazing over bare skin, fingertips caressing, stroking and pressing. Waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever before ebbing away leaving the glow of satiation, only to begin again just as she thought they were done. Those times were incredible – she could forgive him anything in return for what he gave to her without holding back anything. She gave her all in return, and the memory of former lovers faded into insignificance.

At last they turned onto the main road, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He turned up the music and started to sing at the top of his lungs. She laughed at his choice and couldn’t help but sing along with him.

‘Country roads, take me hooooome to the plaaaace I belooooooong’ but even as she sang, laughter bubbling up under the words, she couldn’t help but wonder where ‘home’ was – for her, for Drake…did they belong together? It hadn’t been long since they had admitted their feelings for each other but she felt as if she’d met her soulmate. Could she make her home here in this odd little country? Would he follow her back to New York if she asked? Would he want to go back to where he was born, in Texas? What would they do to make a living? She looked over at him and he grinned back at her before paying attention to the road again. She resolved to put her thoughts aside for now and go with the flow.

They drew into the courtyard at Applewood, and Drake frowned.

‘There’s not many vehicles here’ he mused, looking at the row of parked cars, noting that the limos were still there, but all but one of the SUVs were missing. That meant Liam was still there, but a good portion of Bastien’s men were elsewhere. He couldn’t make sense of it, and went straight to the security suite. He found Phillipo there, widely recognised as Lewis’s right hand man, just as Lewis was to Bastien.

‘What the hell’s going on – where’s Bastien?’ he questioned him as he looked up from his desk.

‘Walker’ he acknowledged ‘Mr Lykel is out in the field’

‘I thought he wasn’t on active duty anymore’ he quizzed him ‘Didn’t he send James and Damien out to do that?’

‘Captain Lykel said to give you this’ he said, handing him an envelope. He tapped the side of his nose in a gesture he knew the Guard used in situations where it was possible that others could overhear them. He frowned and opened his mouth, but the other man shook his head to caution him to silence. He nodded and took the envelope, going back out into the courtyard to Riley. She raised her eyebrows in query and he took her hand.

‘Let’s go for a walk’ he said ‘I need to think’ he showed her the envelope, pressing his finger to his lips, and they set off toward the orchard. Once there, he leaned against the trunk of a tree and opened it, Riley watching but saying nothing, aware that he needed to concentrate. The note was handwritten, and he recognised Bastien’s neat square letters.

Walker

I still cannot be certain that I have discovered all of Constantine’s covert surveillance devices so send this to you in the strictest confidence. Look to see if the seal has been tampered with. There is a small possibility that others may know of any remaining devices and have use of them. Use the utmost discretion as to who to discuss the contents of this letter with and destroy it as soon as you can. I have faith that you know who you can trust, but be cautious.

Nazario and James have tracked Severus and two other men to Valtoria. You know the state of affairs there. In two days’ time the Lantern festival will be held, and Liam and Olivia will attend with the rest of the court. Before then, I go with the Guard to flush Anton out and neutralise him. I plan not to take an active part, but you know these things sometimes change.

If I know you as well as I might, I know your first thought will be to follow me. I urge you to stay where you are and protect Riley and Sophia, and help if you can to observe and protect Liam and Olivia. Take note of anything and anyone that appear suspicious. I trust you to do the right thing to protect those you and I hold dear. If by any chance you do not see me again, do what you can for Sophia. If all goes well, by the time the lantern ceremony takes place, Anton will no longer be a threat.

Take care son

Bastien

He sat and stared at the letter before handing it to Riley to read. He stood and paced while she read it and when she had finished, he took it back and tucked it inside his shirt.

‘We need to find Sophia and talk to her’ he said.

------

There was a note of panic in the voice of the person on the other end of the phone.

‘The lantern festival, your Majesty? We haven’t held that for years. The Duchess didn’t like strangers in the grounds after the Duke passed on’

‘I thought it would be appropriate to revive it in celebration of the change of monarch. You know, letting go of the old and making a wish for the future.’ Liam explained levelly. ‘I know it’s asking a lot, but all the other Duchies are arranging charity events. Surely as a loyal Valtorian you’d wish to raise money for a worthy cause in your area? I’d heard the orphanage needs some renovation’

‘Of course your Majesty, it’s just that it’s such short notice’ The woman, Gladys, claimed to be head of staff at Valtoria Manor. She had submitted a list of all those on staff, and Bastien had put one of his men on to vetting them properly. So far nothing suspicious had come up. All were from families who had been born in the Duchy. There were no examples of criminal records and none of the names cropped up as sympathisers of anti Monarchy groups.

‘Are you able to offer accommodation?’ he asked ‘I know the Duchess was rather – reclusive in her latter years, but I remember visiting it as a child and staying in the state rooms’

‘I – of course all the rooms were maintained properly even after we closed the gates to guests, but I’m not sure if we have the linen or bedclothes…’

‘Send a list of what you need to my head of household. Now the Palace is closed for renovations we have plenty to spare, or we can provide funds to buy new. If staffing is a problem, I can send a team to help with the organisation of the festival. Some of the other venues are taking advantage of their expertise.’ He drew himself up into his regal posture, even though she could not see him. It changed the timbre of his voice as he continued – deeper and more commanding but with an air of sympathy. ‘Gladys, I’m sure you understand that after the attack at the coronation, Cordonia needs some positive news and goals. I sincerely hope I can count on you to help your duchy make a contribution’ There was a short silence at the other end of the line.

‘Of course your Majesty, I’ll do my best’

‘Excellent, I’ll send someone over to help you’ He ended the call, smiling in triumph.

--------

Damien took control of his breath, steady and even as he approached the driveway of Valtoria Manor. It was well that he was a good mimic, and ever since he had landed in Cordonia he had listened carefully to the people around him. It helped that he had Bastien as an example of the accent in the preceding years. He didn’t expect to pass as native to the country, but explain that his Cordonian parents had moved to America when he was young, hence the faint accent and sketchy knowledge of their culture and customs. He hope it would be enough to make anyone he encountered comfortable with his manner of speaking. The gates were closed and he drew the car level with the intercom, getting out and pressing the call button.

After a short while it crackled into life, and a woman answered curtly

‘Hello – state your business please’

‘Hi, you’re expecting me I hope. King Liam asked me to come and help you organise the lantern festival. He’s recently taken me on staff to assist with all the forthcoming events.’ There was a short silence before the gates swung open and he got back into the car to drive in. Bastien had suggested he wear a wire, but he refused, saying it was too risky. He did however have a listening device in the car, and he spoke quietly as he swung the vehicle into the courtyard to see a woman stepping forward to meet him.

‘Nazario to Lykel. I’m in’

Next Chapter 12 Just Desserts?

#silver service #damien nazario #bastien lykel #sophia x bastien #protect and serve

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hangukincharms · 4 years

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Drawn to You

Word Count: 5147 Genre: Fluff, Fan x Idol Interaction Summary: You are an art student drafting a portrait of Wonho at a well-known café. Cross-Posted: AO3 as xKrypton_Bliss

E V E N I N G // A Seoul Café Sitting in a well-known café, you scroll through photos of Wonho on your phone to study his facial expressions and his exact anatomy. Your foot shakes idly now as you have gone past the blushing-in-embarrassment phase to more focused on seeing how the jawline is shaped, the turn of the tip of his nose, where his cheekbones land, and the subtle upturned corners of his mouth. With a nicely weighted and balanced mechanical pencil in hand, you begin to lay down the basic foundations for the three-quarter angle of his head, hoping to capture his essence truly. You have come so far now as an art student, and this was your last art project for university right before you graduate. You have already been taking commissions here and there, but only so few due to your overwhelming schedule with balancing your part-time job, school, and some sort of semblance of this thing called social life. After some time had passed, you managed to get a base sketch down along with some shading and details. It is still a little rough, but it has gotten more refined. A stroke of a loose hair here, maybe a shade there. No, it does not look right. You erase with a bit of frustration. You do not realize that the café has emptied quite a bit and it is darkening a little outside. "Your drawing is wonderful." A woman's voice startled you out of concentration. You snap your head up and see a short older woman carrying a tray with used plates and cups. She smiles sweetly, which seemed a bit familiar in some way to you. "Oh, uh, thank you!" you stammered, feeling embarrassed someone has actually seen your drawing before it was done, and it was a K-pop idol no less. Your cheeks heat up. "It's still far from being done…" You tuck your hair behind your ear out of nerves and pick up your hot chocolate to sip on. "I think it's wonderful," she repeated. "You did a great job capturing my son's personality." You choke on your drink and cough. "Y-your…" "Yes," she smiles proudly, her eyes becoming crescents. "Hoseoki is my son." Your eyes widen in disbelief. That embarrassment that finally ebbed away came back in full force. Now you have to figure out how to explain why out of all people, you decided to draw her son for the final project. You need to figure out why you could have not chosen someone else for this project. Anyone else at all! She sets the tray down on the table next to you. You look around and see maybe one or two people left in the café. You really did not realize how late it was. She sits down across from you. "What made you decide to draw him, dear?" she asks softly. "What do you like about him?" That was a question you dreaded to hear followed by another question you really did not expect. You take a deep breath and explain that the drawing was for a school project that focused on portraits but with a twist of concepts and imaginations. You told her idea of a light and dark concept. Everything has to be hand done and colored for it to be accepted. Right now, you are just going through the first stages of rough drafts. "That sounds very interesting!" she says with intrigue. "But — " she smiles again and leans in a little closer to you. " — you haven't told me why you like him." You were hoping you explained in detail too much so she would forget that question. Your cheeks feel warm as you bring the sketchbook close to you. "Uh, I-I — " A phone rings. Not your ringtone though. She looks down at her apron and finds her smartphone and picks up. "I am so sorry, excuse me — hello?" You breathe a sigh of relief. Many thoughts race through your mind. I just met Wonho's mom. I thought her café closed. Is this even her café? Is she working at a different café? Why did I decide the one time I draw someone outside my apartment, it had to be related to someone who works here! You shake your head back into reality so you did not want to take any more precious time away from his mother who has so kindly sat down with you and chat, which you totally did not expect. "Okay, I will see you soon." She hangs up and puts the phone back into the pocket of her apron. "He's on his way!" "Huh?" you hum in surprise. "I mean — Forgive me — I — who is on his way?" "My son. He is coming by to visit." Now is your chance for escape from even more embarrassment. "Ahh, okay, well…" you begin to collect your belongings. "I don't want to be rude while you wait for your son to arrive — " "Oh, please! Stay! I insist!" She gives you a look that only Asian mothers do that I wish I could describe. "You won't be bothering us if that is what you're afraid of. I'm always happy to meet any Monbebe and he is too." Your eyes widen by each word landing in your ear. "A-a-are you sure?" "Yes! Now sit down!" she politely urges. You did not realize you had gotten up from your seat in your rush to leave. You feel so rude to deny her, so you obey and bow to her in apology. Since you know she would not let up, you begin to explain the qualities of Wonho as you have seen him in variety shows and Vlive: charismatic, selfless, cute, cares very much about other people, making sure no one is left behind, in tune with his emotions… the list was endless. There was so much to list that it felt like you lost track of time. You really wanted to let his mother know how at least one fan of his feels about him so she could feel proud. For a little while now, you felt this strange sensation that you have been brushing off that someone was nearby you. Now that you have begun to run out of words, the feeling has become stronger. You cautiously eye to the side and slowly turn your head to see a plain grey sweater at your eye level. You look up hesitantly and see an all too familiar face of your bias, beaming down at you —the Wonho himself. Your heart beats painfully against your chest as your eyes widen. How long has he been there?! Did he hear everything I said? Do I sound crazy? Oh, God, I hope he didn't stand there for too long. Why did she not say anything? Such a sweet lady, she just smiled the whole time with light in her eyes. Ahhh, I should've listened to that gut a long time ago! "Hi," he greets sweetly. The upturned corners of his mouth have become much more prevalent with his smile while showing off his pearly whites. You draw in a shaky breath. Your hands begin to work on attempting at anything to hide your sketch from his eyes, albeit very clumsily. You fumbled with closing the sketchbook, flipping your phone over so the backside is shown — crap, it has his PC in it! You shove it under your arm. Feeling a shift in movement, you see Wonho move next to you and sits down between you and his mother, phone in hand to check the time and sets it down, watching you curiously with a hint of amusement. “Ah — h-how are you?” you stuttered, with your arm hastily crossed in front of you, resting your chin in your hand. “I’m doing fine,” he replies with a relieved sigh as he sweeps his hair back with his fingers. “I just got done with dance practice for our comeback.” He smiles again. “How are you doing? What's your name?” “I-I-I’m doing okay…” You say as you trail off, making sure to cover your face with your hair, looking down. "My name is Y/N…" "Nice to meet you, Y/Nssi," he beams. "I'm sure you already know who I am, but I am Wonho of Monsta X. I see you have already met my mom." He bows politely. "Yes, nice to meet you too." You return the bow meekly. You look back up at him to smile politely and notice the beads of sweat glistening along his forehead and the side of his face. A stark contrast against his black hair. You are surprised at how casual he was in front of you, a fan, for this. Does he not know he could kill you in an instant if you let him? (Nah, you were already dead before it started.) As you become lost in thought on how this is even reality right now, he and his mother chatted away, probably something about their days recently. You are trying not to be rude and listen into the conversation, but the unexpected starstruck really hit hard with you. Normally, if you are prepared to meet someone who is in some ways well-known or famous, you would not be a bumbling mess. Your own personality shines much more brilliantly and naturally. If this was a fansign, you would have ample time to calm down, even before the meet up — at least, that is what you would know from what you have seen on social media. You did not want to treat Wonho like he was on a pedestal or some kind of god. Geez, but this was far too soon and too unexpected! You come back to reality when you realize a hand was waving in your face. "Are you still there?" Wonho asks. "Hm?" Your eyebrows quirk. Oh, that is right. Wonho is still there in front of you. Wonho is still there in front of you! "Did you want to see my arms?" he asks with a chuckle. "You were staring really hard at them." "Eh?" You spaced out and did not know you were burning a hole through his arms. "A-ah, no! It's okay! I'm okay — " "Oh…" he slumps in his seat, eyes looking down. "So you don't want to see them…" He looks back up to you with puppy eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you have realized what you said. "N-no! I don't mean that! I mean, like, you don't have to show them to me. Only if you're comfortable." He laughs. "It's okay. I'm not offended. I knew what you meant." He winks playfully. "It's getting a little hot for me in here anyway, so do you mind if I take off my sweater?" Your nostrils involuntarily flare and your heart quickens. You shove that thought to the dirt. Now that he has been here for a while, you are trying every way to calm down and treat him like a normal human being. "No, I don't mind." He smiles and nods. You look away and out the window to the busy street as you hear the shuffling of fabric next to you, chin resting on your hand. You noticed it was just a little too quiet at the table despite his movement. "Where's your mom?" He chuckles. "You didn't hear?" He must have realized you were spacing out. "She went back to finish up cleaning and busting the tables." "Ah…" "So she was telling me how talented you are at drawing." "Oh…?" "And I kind of want to see it for myself." "Uhh…you sure? I'm not that good…" "Hey." "Yeah?" "Why won't you look at me?" You freeze. Do you dare mention that your face has been beet red and the mere thought of looking at him in the flesh with no sleeves is just going to kill you? "I'm embarrassed," you say, settling in that word alone. You feel him leaning closer to you. "Embarrassed?" You nod your head. "Whether your drawing looks good or not, I'll still love it all the same," he assures softly. "It's okay that you drew me." You close your eyes and sigh. Wanting to get this over with, you slowly turn your body back around and see him in a loosely fitted white tee with his sleeves partially rolled up. His arms are magnificently big, but in their relaxed state, it is not so bad; not as intimidating as you thought. He flashes his pearly whites at you, his eyes disappearing. "Ah… There's a face I want to see." You exhale out of your nose in half amusement and relief and give a wry smile. Sure, you are sitting in front of Wonho right now, but you are becoming more relaxed to his presence, arms and all. You slowly unveil your sketchbook and your phone peeks out, his PC in full glory. "Is that your favorite one of me?" he gestures to the PC. "Well," you begin, tilting your head to the side as you glance at it. "It's the only one I have of you out of all the albums I have." There is still a part of you that finds talking about all of this weird, especially talking about it to him, but you have to go along with it since he asked. "Oh, really? Did Minhyuk take over your photos?" he jokes. "Actually, that's what happened," you laugh. "Almost every album, it's him!" You relax just a little more. "I'll make sure to scold him for you." He winks. Gathering the courage, you shuffle out your sketchbook to be in front of you. "So, you wanted to see my drawings?" You glance up at him… in the eyes for those extra courage points. He nods. You shift the sketchbook over to him and flip through the pages, whether it was a work in progress or completed. You explain details of each concept drawn and what classes they were for. Sometimes, half of the drawings were for fun as you explained different styles and techniques to hone your personal art skill. You sometimes take a peek at him to see his expression and it seemed deep in concentration with some amounts of awe, indicating to you he was sincerely listening and genuinely interested. Your body loosens up even more. In between the flipping of pages, Wonho would ask questions about you, like how did you get into traditional art, what type of music do you listen to when you are working, how do you juggle between university and social, work, and home life. At one point, he even asked about your dating life. "I… don't really have much of one," you state flatly. "Oh, is that so?" His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Yeah, too frivolous. It makes me lose concentration on my work. I don't have as much time for it as other students do. It's quite a time investment. They won't understand why art is such a big passion of mine, so they'll just eventually leave me anyways." You look over to Wonho who seems to be baffled, yet sad. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt by this. I've accepted it." "Not a single soul would understand?" You chuckle. "Not even one." You flip the page. It lands on the partially finished portraiture of Wonho. You completely forgot about it and your body tensed up. You begin to slowly pull the sketchbook away from him. "Ahh, this isn't finished — " He stops you by holding onto the other side of the sketchbook, slowly pulling it back to him. "Oh, no, we're not gonna be shy here." You are still holding onto it, except it is slowly slipping from your fingers. You feel your grip shaking a little. Meanwhile, you look at Wonho, then down to his grip. Not a single struggle. Not wanting to tear your possession, you sigh. "Fine." You suddenly let go and the book jerked into his hand. You turn away again with your chin resting in your hand once more. He chuckles and you feel a gingerly pat on your head. You turn back to him in bewilderment, but he was already looking deep into your drawing. You turn your body slightly towards him to analyze his expression. Does he like it? Does he dislike it? Does he — "My mom was right. You really did capture me so well…" "I… I just, you know, uh…" You scratch the back of your head. "It's really well done. I am kind of jealous of this Wonho because he looks better than me!" You laugh. "What? No! You've always looked amazing, inside out, no matter what!" Whoops. That was too much, you thought. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, that was frank of me." You shrink into yourself out of embarrassment. "Hey, it's okay," he says gently. "I like hearing that from Monbebe, because, well, it gives me strength to keep doing what I'm doing." He pauses and lowers his eyes. "I'll admit, even if I look strong like this — " He tenses his muscles. " — I'm not always strong for myself when I need to be — are you okay?!" "Hm?" You look at him in confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?" "Your nose is bleeding." "Oh, is it?" you say nonchalantly. You take a napkin nearby you and wipe the blood off as best as you can. You ball it up without looking. "Okay, so you were saying that we're your source of strength?" "Does this happen often?" he says, eyebrows furrowed. "Hm?" "The nosebleed." "Oh, no, rarely." He stiffens and reaches forward to console you, a look of worry etched into his face. "We need to take you to the hospital...!" "Oh, no, no, no, it's okay. I'm fine. Don't worry about it." You wave your hand dismissively. You know exactly why your nose was bleeding and it happened when he tensed his wonderfully sculpted muscles right before you. Seriously, how is he so casual about this? "How are you so casual about this?!" Wonho exclaims. "Shh, it's okay!" you whisper. You realize you are closer to him than normal, then noticed that your hand was covering his mouth. Your head tingles in panic as you try not to jerk your hand away, but slowly move it off of him as you blush. "I'm sorry." You look up at him in earnest. "But, please, do not worry about me. Tell me about how Monbebe is your source of strength." "Hoseoki!" You and Wonho both turn to the source of the voice. His mother looked primed and ready to leave with her tote bag hanging on her shoulder. He gets up and goes to her. "Is this bag too heavy for you?" he asks, checking the weight of the bag. "Silly boy, it's fine! Your mom may be old, but she is still strong." He comes back to the table and you were preparing to leave yourself as that seems to be your cue. Your sketchbook, pencils, erasers and sharpener are all back into their spots in your messenger bag. He picks up the sweater and puts it back on. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'll have to take my mom home now," he says. You might have heard a lace of sadness in his voice. "It's alright. It's no worries!" You smile. "You take care of her." "It was nice meeting you and getting to know you, Y/Nssi." "It was nice to meet you too, Wonhossi." A flash of sadness reflected in his eyes. Or did it? Both of you and his mother said your goodbyes and bowing as you all leave the café. You begin walking in the opposite direction from them, going back to the apartments that are close to the café but also the university too. You immediately reminisce on what just happened in the span of an hour, wondering if you had gone to this café more often and actually stayed longer, would you have met Wonho even sooner? You shake your head. It does not matter now. You were just happy to have met him once and that is that. Not to mention the feedback of the portraiture fueled your eagerness to finish the draft sooner, so you could make a real painting out of it. Especially now that you had a glimpse of him and his personality in the flesh, you could add that depth to your piece. //////////////////// 2 M O N T H S L A T E R // University Arena

You had finished your graduation ceremony at the university and was walking out to find your friends and family in multiple places. You have been pulled by various friends to have photos together, posing for the cameras or taking selfies that were in abundance. It was very crowded due to having to graduate with 2,100 other graduates as well. You eventually find your family and closest friends and they showered you with bouquets, a beautiful flower crown, and balloons. They all hug you tightly with congratulations and love. Your father pats you on the head and smiles with pride. Your mother holds your hand, not wanting to let go of the child she had raised who has now graduated university. Another round of picture taking and selfies begin with those closest to you. "Y/N!" You crane your neck to look for the voice of whomever is calling you, but see no one. "Y/N!" This time, it is closer. You look around again, thinking the voice has given you misdirection. "Y/N." You turn around and see another male graduate you are familiar with, but more as a classmate. "Oh, hey, Yoojin! We've finally made it!" "Yeah, finally!" he exclaims. He clears his throat. "Listen, someone is here looking for you." "Who?" "I don't know, but you'll have to follow me." "Oma, I'll be right back," you call out to your mother. "Child, where are you going — " "I'll be right back!" Your mother huffs but has no choice but to let you go. "Okay, Yoojin, let's go." "Take my wrist so we don't get lost." You oblige. Both of you are bumping into everyone everywhere you go and it does not get any easier when you run into people who were in the same department as you and wanted pictures. The same goes for him as he was in the science department. As both of you push by, the crowd becomes less and less dense, leaving a few people scattered by the edges. Most of them are families with professional photographers. By this time, you were able to let go of Yoojin's wrist and walk normally. "I am so sorry I had to drag you out of there," he pants. "But apparently, this person is really eager to see you." "If they were so eager, I'm surprised they didn't fight the crowd," you chuckle. You follow him until the pavement meets the grass. There was a walkway that was heading up to one of the gazebos around the front. "He's waiting for you there." "You're not coming with me?" you ask, surprised. "What if I get kidnapped?" "I'm… sure he's harmless, but just in case, I'll wait here." A thud was felt in your chest. You look to the structure. You cannot really see anyone, but if you squint hard enough, you might make out a silhouette. However, the gazebo's intricate design makes it difficult to see. You begin walking as Yoojin looks on after you. The crowd's noise becomes fainter with every step. The only things you hear now are the birds chirping and the clacking of your heels. As you get closer to the gazebo, you become more hyper-aware of your own heartbeat. You slow to a stop just about 10 steps shy away from the entrance. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as you play with the academic stole around your neck. You can do this. Just get it over with , you thought. If something bad happens, Yoojin is there. You look back and sure enough, he is still watching you. Gathering your strength, you brusquely walk on and into the entrance. You look around and find someone sitting on the left side of you all in black with a beautiful and abundant bouquet seemingly slipping slowly out of his hand. His head hangs low and his black cap prevents you from seeing his face. Is he… sleeping? You hesitate to step any closer to him. "H-hello?" you call out gingerly. "Are you okay…?" You see the bouquet slipping out of the last finger and you lunge forward to catch it — just in time. In turn, you feel a hand gracing over yours. You snap your head up and slowly, he reveals his face to you. He grins. "Hi." You gasp loudly, making sure the next step was not a scream because that would alert Yoojin. "Wo… Wonho...!" You set the bouquet down on the bench carefully and step back, hands covering your gaping mouth. He pushes himself out of the seat and straightens up. Your eyes cannot stop following him. He takes off his cap as you take on what he was wearing: a tie, dress shirt and skinny fit dress pants complete with a black leather jacket that happens to have a dark red lining on the inside. There also seems to be a subdued color on his dress socks too, matching the inside of his jacket. One thing was different about him. His hair is blond this time, styled like that of Beautiful era. He picks up the bouquet and presents them to you. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says softly. You stare at the flowers as he hands them off to you. You close your eyes and inhale their aroma. "It's so… beautiful," you say breathlessly, looking back up at him. "Why… how come you're here?" "Ah…" He puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks around. "After that night, I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave you. I really wasn't sure about anything. But there was one thing I was really sure about: it's that I like you." Your eyes widen. Are your ears deceiving you? You shake your head. "I'm sorry, you — ?" "I do like you, Y/N," Wonho states. "If — " He lowers his gaze to the ground. "If you're okay with that." Silence falls on the both of you. You have become speechless, awestruck even. This was someone who was your bias for so long, and to stand here, in front of you, admitting to you that he, an idol, likes you… you pinch yourself. You look at him and see he is chewing on his lips nervously. He must have been thinking about this. "I…" you begin. His eyes snap to yours in earnest, eager to listen to anything you have to say. "I am a fan," you declare. "You… are an idol. Is this going to be okay?" "If they have anything to say… I will shut them down. I have done so before. I won't hesitate again." His eyes flashed ice cold for just a split second before returning to the warmth it held. You look between his eyes in bewilderment. He seems very sure of this. He does not seem swayed by any future problems it might hold. He steps closer to you and begins playing with your softly curled hair. He smiles warmly. "So, now that you have more time, and I hope it still isn't so frivolous to you," he begins. "Will you go out with me?" ////////////////////

W O N H O ' S P E R S P E C T I V E // Leaving the Café

(Disclaimer: this will have the majority traditional Asian perspective, so if something seems off or weird to you, this is a very typical thing, as it is with me and almost all of my Asian friends' traditional parents. Please do not take offense.) As he and his mother walk away from the café, Wonho turns his head around to see her, only to find she is no longer there. He sighs with some amount of regret that he had no way of contact with you at all. "Hoseoki, it looks like you were having a lot of fun with that girl," his mother comments. "I have fun with any and all Monbebe, Oma." "Yes, but not as much fun as with her." He shrugs lightly. "My son, your mom may have bad eyesight, but she can see how much you like her," she says in a serious tone, eyeing her boy. "You know you won't be an idol forever, so sooner or later, you will have to settle down, get married with a good wife, and maybe have some grandchildren for me." "Oma!" Wonho's eyes widened in shock. "This is too much too soon!" His mother laughs heartily. "But make sure she is a right fit for you too. Oma doesn't want you to rush either. Oma only wants you to be happy." She pauses. "She seems like a very lovely girl, who is passionate and isn't afraid to pursue what she wants. She is in some ways like you, but has her own charms." "H-how do you know all this?" he asks. "It's only for an hour and it seems you know more than I do." "Oma always knows more." She smiles as she rubs her son's back. "Try to reach out to her again." He sighs in defeat. He realizes she is right. He does like her passion and the dedication she has to her craft, which he can relate to when it comes to his music and fashion. Nothing can hold their creativity back and that gave him a spark. To him, she is grounded in her goals and aspirations, just as he was. He wants to know more about her. He hopes he can. //////////////////// Throughout the rest of the month, Wonho came by the café more often than not to see if she was there in the evening, working away on her project. Unfortunately, to his dismay, anytime he was there, she was nowhere to be found. He tried to appear sometimes in the morning or afternoon as long as his schedule allows, but she was not there either.

His hopelessness grew, and his regret and guilt became stronger as he fell into his bed in the Monsta X's dorm. In the moment of his last drop of desperation, it hit him. He remembers that the portrait of him was her final project. Finalproject. Her graduation project. He shoots up out of bed to find his phone on the charger. He looks up the university website near the café and scrolls through to find the graduation date. He checks it against his schedule to see if he is able to attend. He grins.

#kpop #kpop scenarios #wonho fluff #wonho #lee hoseok #monsta x #monsta x scenarios #art student #fan x idol interaction #wonho scenarios #fluff

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thorniest-rose · 4 years

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“When you kiss me, I want to die” interlude #1

A while ago I said I wanted to rewrite the scenes from IT Chapter 1 as if they took place in my “When you kiss me” verse, looking at how Eddie and Richie’s relationship develops when they’re kids. So here’s the first one! Once these are all done, I’ll compile them and add them as a bonus chapter on ao3.

Class is out, the blessed sound of the bell signalling the end of the school year, when the three boys push their way into the hallway, giggling about what Stan’s upcoming bar mitzvah entails.

“So it’s this church full of Jews, right?” Eddie says. “And Stan has to take like this super Jewie test-”

“But how’s it work?” Bill asks, still confused.

“They slice the tip of his dick off!”

“But then Stan’ll have nothing left!” Richie says, making Eddie giggle.

Stan catches up to them in the hallway and patiently explains what a bar mitzvah actually means, with no mention of dick slicing at all.

As he’s talking about the Torah, Richie slips behind the group so he can insert himself between Bill and Eddie, using his elbow to nudge Bill to the side. Bill gives him a curious look but Richie’s too busy looking at Eddie to notice.

“Talking of becoming a man, Eds,” Richie says, bumping Eddie with his shoulder. “When were you planning on inviting me to your wedding?”

Eddie scowls at him. “What are you talking about, Richie?”

“I read that Catholic kids like you get to dress up in these little white dresses and go to church so they can be married off to God!”

“I’m Methodist, Richie, not Catholic,” Eddie huffs. “And that’s for girls!”

“Awww, but you’d look so cute in white,” Richie says with his customary goofy grin. “Maybe you should ask if you can do it anyway.”

Eddie looks like he’s about to snap at him when they see Henry Bowers and his goons standing by their lockers. They all go silent as they walk by, trying to avoid the weird smile Patrick gives them and Bowers’ pale, shark-like eyes.

“God, I hate those creeps,” Eddie mutters when they’re out of sight.

Outside, they dump their books into the trash, this one act freeing them from the prison of school for months. It already makes Bill feel lighter.

“Best feeling ever,” Stan declares.

“Oh yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time,” Richie teases.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Eddie asks, as he rolls his eyes at Richie.

“Summer training starts,” Richie replies, voice deathly serious.

“Training?”

“Yeah, for Street Fighter.”

“Is that how you want to spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?” Eddie gives Richie this little smile, the tip of his tongue pushing against his teeth, and usually Richie is lightning fast with a comeback, but he just stares at Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks, smile faltering.

“Nothing,” Richie says, though he looks a bit dazed, big eyes blinking behind his thick glasses.

“Stop staring at me then, weirdo,” Eddie says, looking suddenly insecure as he fiddles with the strap on his backpack.

“We could go to the Quarry?” Stan says.

But Bill shakes his head. “No, we have to go to the Barrens.” Because they had to look for Georgie. He’d talked about it before and they’d all agreed.

After they look at Betty Ripsom’s mom standing anxiously at the school gates, they start to wander away. And Bill’s about to ask if they want to hang out or do something in town when Patrick appears out of nowhere, pulling Richie by the backpack and sending him flying back into Stan.

“Hey!” Eddie says, small mouth set in a snarl, but he freezes when Bowers saunters over, leering down at him as he gets up in Eddie’s space.

“Hey Kaspbrak, suck any big dicks today?”

Eddie’s entire face goes pink and he hunches his small shoulders like he’s trying to disappear inside himself. Bill’s about to tell Bowers to get lost but Richie gets there first, scrambling off the ground and squaring up to Bowers.

“Don’t fucking talk to Eddie like that!” he says, fists clenched at his sides.

“Richie, don’t!” Eddie says, sounding frightened, his eyes wide. He reaches out and tugs on Richie’s wrist to stop him getting any closer to Bowers. But Bowers just laughs at Richie’s bared teeth, like he’s nothing more than a wild cat.

Bill is just as angry, at the way Bowers has treated them all year, at the way he sauntered around like he owned Derry High with his stupid asshole friends. And he can’t stop his mouth as he stutters out, “You s-s-s-s-uck, Bowers!”

“Oh my god, shut up, Bill,” Eddie moans, one hand still on Richie’s wrist and his other hand on Bill’s backpack, holding him back.

And as Bowers turns to look at him, Bill thinks this is it. This is when Bowers will finally kick the shit out of him like he’s been promising for years. Except Bowers sees something that spooks him and he backs off. But not before giving Bill a final ominous warning. “This summer’s going to be a hurt train, Denbrough. For you and your little faggot friends.” His eyes drift over Bill’s shoulder at that last bit and he winks at Eddie, who sucks in a quivering breath.

They all watch as Bowers and his cronies head toward his car.

“I wish he’d go missing,” Richie mutters angrily.

“He’s probably the one doing it,” Eddie says, mouth bunched up in a pout.

Eddie rounds on Richie the second they’ve driven away.

“What the fuck were you thinking anyway? Bowers is going to have it in for you now! You’re so stupid sometimes, Richie, I can’t even believe you!”

But Richie doesn’t answer because he’s staring down at Eddie’s hand, where it’s still wrapped around Richie’s wrist. Eddie follows Richie’s eyes and notices too. He pulls his hand away fast, as if he’s just been bitten.

Bill watches as a fresh blush bursts across Eddie’s face like a crushed fruit, and for the first time that day he realises something feels different.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Richie gives him a crooked grin. “Hey, if he beats me up, you can just patch me up, right? You could come over and be my personal nurse.”

If anything Eddie just goes pinker. “You’re an idiot, Richie.”

Richie gives him a little salute. “At your service.”

With the adrenaline slowly ebbing out of his body, Bill goes back to thinking about how it’s summer again.

“Hey Eddie, do you want to come over?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer, but Richie cuts in first. “Sorry Bill, Eddie’s hanging out with me today,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Oh?” Bill looks at Eddie, who looks strangely shy, scuffing his sneaker against the ground. Stan just watches them silently.

“If that’s okay, Bill? Richie and I could hang out another day instead?”

Richie gives Eddie a look. “What the fuck? No we couldn’t.”

“It’s alright, you guys can hang out. I don’t mind.” And he really doesn’t. They’ll all be hanging out tomorrow anyway. And they have all summer.

“Cool, we’ll see you guys tomorrow then. We’ll meet you at Eddie’s in the morning, yeah?” Richie says, as he tugs Eddie away.

Eddie waves at them as they walk down the road. “Call me tomorrow, Bill!” he yells, before Richie tugs on him again.

Stan looks sideways at Bill. “Have you noticed they’re being weird recently?”

Bill turns to look at him. “Weird? Eddie and Richie have always been weird.”

“I know, but... since when has Eddie ever wanted to hang out with Richie alone?”

Bill thinks about it. It’s true. Eddie and Richie only became friends because Bill had been friends with Richie first. Had invited him to be part of the club a couple of years ago. And it always seemed like Eddie had only barely tolerated Richie for the sake of Bill and Stan. Had something changed over the last few months? Bill’s been so taken up with Georgie going missing, he doesn’t know.

He shrugs at Stan. “It’s nice though, right? Them being friends.”

Stan looks dubious. “I guess? And Richie’s been doing this thing.”

“Thing?”

“Yeah, like looking at Eddie.”

Bill blinks at him, and Stan just shakes his head. “I don’t know, I can’t explain it. It’s fine, anyway. Just Richie being a freak. Want to get a soda?”

Bill says hell yeah, he does. And as the summer afternoon unfurls in front of them, he doesn’t think about Eddie and Richie again for the rest of the day.

#when you kiss me i want to die #when you kiss me interludes #reddie #my writing

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xiubaek-13 · 4 years

Text

Case File 99

Prompt: You meet Minseok in a bar and swear that you know him from SOMEWHERE but have no idea where, but now you have to do something about it

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

A/N: This was for a one shot challenge done on tumblr with friends but I’m leaving it open to further one shots in the future. If you like this AU please let me know who and what you want to see and I will make a small list to work on. There are 3 pieces of dialogue in here that are not mine. I have borrowed them from Scott Lynch and his amazing Gentlemen’s Bastards series. I recently reread the 3 books and couldn’t word the dialogue in these 3 spots any better

Rain pelted the windows of your corner office, only adding to the dreary day you were having. You said corner office but you could hardly call it that. It’s not like you worked in some big office building for a massive corporation. No, you worked out of a rundown apartment in the shadier part of town. Still, it had a big glass window that wrapped around the corner of the building and rain was pelting against it. The only people that ever sought you out were in desperate need of your skills. Photographic memory, ability to sneak or talk your way into almost anywhere (except for that one demon club downtown), an unhealthy amount of supernatural knowledge and a general fuck it attitude were among some of your more specific skills that seemed to bring in the clients. If a person went missing and couldn’t be found, you got a call. If one of the supernatural got a little too public with its existence, you got a call. If something was just plain weird, you got a call.

After one too many run ins with the law, and one extremely close call, Detective Markham had worked out exactly what you had been doing every time they found traces of you at a crime scene. Since that day you’d been given a small amount of trust to sort out the less human problems in the city and once you’d been given the freedom to emerge from the shadows without fear of being arrested and thrown in a psychiatric ward, you’d realised just how fucked up your city was.

It would actually be fair to say that humans thought they controlled a lot more of their city than they actually did. You had worked out that the city was divided into 6 very uneven sections. The largest parts went to the vampires, the demons and the fae, then the werewolves, other beings and lastly the humans. The humans bled into all the sectors, unbeknownst to them the danger they put themselves in or the nature of those they worked for. They had no idea that the coexisted with non humans and you couldn't help but laugh at how enterprising the supernatural were. Minhyuk the incubus ran the local sex shop (and business was booming), Heechul the changeling and his mix bag of supes ran one of the malls and Hyojong the ghoul was the local mortician to name a few.

You worked right near the border of the demons territory which meant the streets were always littered with addicts, working women…sometimes men, the odd counsellor trying to help, and travellers for hire. The travellers were chameleons in this city. They could change at will to blend in to the sector they wandered in to so if you needed someone to scout an area or find names for you, you sought out a traveller. They were an information only service though. If you actually wanted to get anything done you either had to do it yourself or pay through the teeth to get it.

In these quiet periods you occasionally wished for the ignorance you once had when you would never have believed in anything other than humans. But, life was rough growing up and you had seen some shit that defied explanation. Then when a friend of yours went missing at the ripe age of 16, a traveller sat you down and explained everything to you. At first you called him crazy but he dragged you all over the city and pointed out the things that were ‘other’ about the residents. Things you ignored if you weren’t looking. Like how some of the ‘people’ moved too fast, how all of their eyes changed, the differences in emotions, how they held themselves, their walks, the agelessness and the sheer cunning in all of them. It had shaken your world view and altered it for the rest of your days.

Sure the humans had their fair share of bad eggs but after seeing the supernatural for the first time you started to notice all of the ways people were manipulated for them. The vampires dealt mainly in brothels and hospitals. It was a good cover for bruised glassy eyed people and blood supplies as well as a good means of disposing of bodies. The demons dealt in contracts, so their sector had the lawyers, the high rollers and gamblers. The werewolves dealt in drugs and weapons since it allowed them to give in to the carnage they desired. The fae were the smugglers. They were who you looked to if a person just disappeared. The vamps at least had the decency to take adults and toss them back after they were done. The fae took children. they took anyone who might interest them for a few hours. Then you never saw them again.

They were the jobs you hated the most. You knew you’d hardly ever find the people you were looking for, and from the few encounters with the high fae over the years, any conversations you had with the fae required all of your wits. They were more cunning than the demons with how they could talk you round in circles without ever helping you. Entering their territory had its own set of dangers and it was ultimately never worth your time.

A sharp knock at the door broke your reverie. You spun in your chair and waited. Like hell you were getting up, the last three times someone had knocked it was for deliveries to the wrong apartment, salespeople or charity. So this time you decided to wait in your chair and see if they came in. They knocked a second time and still you waited. If whoever was on the other side of that door was seeking you out and they’d ventured through the city to your apartment block, through the gang territories, drug addicts and drunkards, then they weren’t leaving until they saw you. The handle turned and the door opened slowly, creaking loudly. You’d fix it but it was a good makeshift security system. No one came in through the door without you knowing about it.

“Hello?” A voice broke the silence. “Um, is anyone here?”

“If you aren’t here to try and sell me a product, a religion or a donation then come in. Otherwise fuck off.”

A young woman entered the apartment, closing the door behind her. If you had to guess you’d say she came from uptown, the section controlled by the demons, she looked too put together to be from any other area of town. Her eyes were wary but determined as she approached your desk. “Det. Markham gave me this address. Said you might be able to help me.” She took a seat opposite you and waited.

“I might be able to. It’ll cost you but I’m sure Markham told you that already.” The woman nodded. “Alright, what seems to be the problem?” You leant back in your chair. If Markham had sent her then it was probably an actual case, now you just had to determine if it was worth the risk.

“My sister went missing a week ago. She’s a nursing student and had been having night classes at the hospital. We live in uptown so she had a bit of a journey home each night. She’d always let me know when she was leaving and how she was getting home. That night I got a text saying she was catching the 2.45am bus but she never turned up. I reported her missing and the cops looked for any trace of her for the past week but came up with nothing. Markham gave me your card and told me you might be able to find something they missed. Please help me, my sister is all I’ve got and someone took her from me.” As she spoke, the desperation and loss ebbed into her voice. She was genuinely upset about her sister. You were going to have to call Markham to make sure there weren’t any details you should know about this case but it sounded like the vampires were involved. Your guess was she’d either been attacked or turned. It could also be the fae but you were hoping that since she went missing in vamp territory that the fae weren't involved.

“I’ll have a look into it and see if I can find anything for you. It’s a $200 upfront fee for services and then more as the investigation progresses based off the risk involved. I should know by tomorrow if there is anything to go off but I’ll get you to give me all the information about your sisters movements that week that you have.” The woman nodded and pulled out a binder and handed it to you.

“That has basic info on Juliet, that’s her name by the way, her hobbies, class schedule, travel routes, what she wore that week and more. Anything you need should be in there.” She handed you a wad of money and turned to leave.

“I assume that there is a number to contact you on in here too?” She nodded. “Alright, leave it with me. I’ll do what I can.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you found nothing?”

“Yes. It was weird, if I didn’t know better I’d say someone was trying to make it look like she never existed. When we first looked she still had insurance and bank accounts and a mailing address. Now all of that is gone. Medical history, gone. That’s why I gave her sister your card.” Markham’s voice crackled through the receiver as you leafed through the binder you’d been left.

“I’m guessing vamps. It’s their territory and they have a tendency to delete records when they need to.”

“And if it was them?”

You sighed. “Then Juliet is either dead, a plaything or a baby vamp. I can only get her back if she’s the second option but that won’t be pleasant.”

---

The club was in full swing by the time you arrived. The music hit you, the dirty bass jerking your pulse to its beat. You wove through the throng of bodies writhing on the dance floor, seeking out one person. You scanned the bar and the booths tucked in the far corner of the club. Out of the light and obstructed by shadows, you spotted him. The lime green hair was a dead giveaway, pun intended. You observed from a distance, taking in his features. His skin was unmarred, save for the tattoos you could spot on any of his exposed skin. He looked up and stared straight at you before pointing a finger at you and beckoning you over. His brows were significantly darker than his hair and his eyes, dark and mesmerising.

You’d heard a lot about the head of the vamp clan, Kwon Jiyong, but you had never spoken to him before. Tonight was a first. You’d requested a sit down with one of the clans higher ups but you had expected your usual contact, Seungri. You approached the booth and tried to get a feel for the leader of the vamps. You had questions and no plans to overstep your boundaries while you were in their territory.

You took a seat opposite him. He leant back and settled into a more comfortable position in the booth, never breaking eye contact. All vampires had a special quality to their eyes but his were enthralling. He smirked and you got a hint of the mischievous side you’d been warned about.

“Thanks for meeting me. I have to say I honestly didn’t expect you to turn up. Usually it’s Seungri.”

“He was otherwise engaged tonight. You requested a meeting with someone high up so I figured since I was free why not send you the highest up in my clan.”

“I won’t beat around the bush. This isn’t a social call after all. Since we haven’t met before I’ll introduce myself. I’m a P.I. I’ve been hired by someone who is trying to find her sister.”

"Does this P.I. have a name?"

"You can call me Sophrosyne. Syn for short." you replied.

He chuckled, giving you and indignant look. "Greek gods? Really now."

"Names are currency in these parts. This is the name I go by. My true name is not up for discussion." He raised his hands, not in surrender but more as a show that he was willing to move on.

His gaze lingered on you. Vampires were unsettling in that they stared. A lot. “And you think it’s got something to do with us?” You nod. “Why?”

“The girl in question was taking night classes at the hospital and her records have been scrubbed.” A small frown ghosted across his face. If you hadn’t been watching him for any signs of reaction you would have missed it.

“Mmm I see why you came to ask questions. It makes sense. I can tell you this much though. It wasn’t us.”

“Forgive me if I sound rude but I’m gonna need more than that if you actually want me to believe you.”

Jiyong sighed, an action that was completely unnecessary for him. “We have not made any new vampires in the past fortnight and we have not disposed of any bodies that would fit her description. If she was taken by us, she’ll be in one of the brothels. We wouldn’t scrub her records for that though so it’s unlikely that we have her. You are welcome to check, I’ll send word to answer your questions if you should turn up at any of our fine establishments.” He smirked as he finished his last sentence, amused at the thought of you visiting every brothel in his section of town.

He leant forward, all signs of mischief gone from his face. “We aren’t the only ones to scrub records darling. If I were you I’d check uptown then the west. If she was taken downtown then you might as well tell whoever is looking for that she’s dead because if the fae have her, she’s never coming home.”

You nodded. You had the same plans. Vamps were the most likely suspects but if it wasn’t them then you were off to see the demons next. They were sly but civil. The wolves were tenacious so you had to pick your moments with them. The fae… well you were hoping to avoid setting up a meeting with them. “I planned on leaving them til last. I have connections with the other 3 factions but not the fae. I’d need all my wits about me before questioning them.”

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t need your wits about you with the rest of us?”

“I understand how each of you work. I’ve had dealings with each of you in the past. I’m not saying that makes you predictable or safe because lord knows you’re all dangerous but the fae are a whole other monster.”

You settled into a conversation with the head of the vampires. You could see the cogs turning in his brain every time you answered one of his questions. He was gracious, offering you a tidbit of his or his clans life whenever you answered him. There was no doubt in your mind that this man was also cunning and ruthless, one doesn’t remain the head of a clan for so long by simply being nice.

You noticed a man standing at the bar, his body turned towards your booth. He was swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. His lilac hair stood out amongst the crowd of darkly clothed club goers. He was staring down at his glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Something kept dragging your focus from him and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t keep your eyes on him for more than a few seconds. It was like something was willing you to not notice him. You turned back to Jiyong to mention him but when he asked you what this man looked like you couldn’t pull a single feature from your mind to share with him.

Jiyong tried to pull details from your mind for the next twenty minutes before giving up. He called a guard over and had him search the club for fae. The guard didn’t find anything which didn’t surprise either of you. After an hour the two of you parted ways. He wished you luck on your investigation but told you not to hold out much hope. What you didn’t tell him is with any client, you presumed them dead until a piece of evidence told you otherwise.

The next day you headed uptown into the middle of demon territory. You made your way through the tent city on the outskirts, the alleys full of passed out addicts and hovels with working girls. The derelict buildings only represented the edges of the district. The edges were where you went if you’d run out of luck but didn’t want to leave the district. It was where you found yourself if you still thought you could win it all back. No one ever won it all back, beating the demons was unheard of. As you continued on the buildings became nicer, sleeker and colder. There was no warmth in this district. Courts, legal offices and casinos were big business here. Not to mention all of the stores catering to the high rollers. Car dealerships, designer fashion, award winning restaurants and more were places around the central business district.

At the epicentre stood The Cardinal, a luxurious, exclusive and extremely well guarded casino. It was where the demons had based themselves and it was fitting really, each sin was well represented inside those walls. To gain entry you were required to prove your wealth and you had to look the part. It was like most casinos in that you rarely ever beat the house but the similarities stopped there. If you ran out of cash other bargains could be struck with one of the 7 owners if you were dumb enough to make a deal with them.

You had heard stories about con artists who had tried to scam the place and the tales you had heard were not pretty. It would be very, very unfortunate if one of the 7 were to realize that and patron to the establishment were counting on what one con artist had liked to call ‘discreetly unorthodox methods’ to win the game – hell, it would be preferable to simply lose the old-fashioned way, or to be caught cheating by the normal attendants. They, at least, would probably be quick and efficient executioners. They had a very busy establishment to run. If, however, one of the 7 caught you, you would wish you were dead.

You had earned yourself free entry into The Cardinal after you had been tricked into catching one such con artist. At the time you hadn’t known you were hired by a demon, they were cunning like that. Avarice, or Yoongi as he had requested you refer to him, was cutthroat when it came to losing what he saw as rightfully his. The way he saw it, someone was out to take his money, and he saw that as a personal attack. You never asked what became of the con artist and frankly you didn’t want to know.

Over the years you had used the demons for their knowledge. Very little happened in the entire city without their knowing. Not surprising when you were dealing with demons. Even less surprising after you realised that the district was run by the seven deadly sins. In hindsight, Avarice was a little on the nose but demons always had weird latin names and you weren’t always bothered with translating them.

You had learned quickly that in order to deal with the demons and not end up as one of their victims you had to be extremely adept at double speak, specifics and manipulation. They were masters at the art of talking unsuspecting humans around in circles, promising them the world all the while tricking them into selling their souls, eternal servitude or death.

You made your way up the stone steps and spotted one of the bouncers sidestep to block you from entering the building. You turned your head towards one of the security cameras and blinked, waiting. A moment later the bouncer moved out of your way. You inclined your head at the camera before continuing up the steps to the entrance of the building. You paused in front of the doors that would lead you inside. Once you crossed that threshold it was a sensory overload and if you weren’t careful you’d never leave. Normal casinos were designed to fully immerse the gamblers into a world where time doesn’t exist, money is constantly won and where they directly influence the odds. The Cardinal did all of that and more. The windows were actually black reflective glass so if you looked at them you would never see the outside, only the interior of the casino. The layout was deceptively simple but if you strayed from the main aisle you could lose yourself for days. There were no clocks so that gamblers lost track of time, servers provided free food and booze to gamblers and if you weren’t gambling they’d tell you which machines were the good ones and which tables you’d win at in order to coerce you into gambling. Each of the three floors had different music, noises, lighting and scents. The kicker was that each room might just have one of the seven deadly sins in it, influencing the gamblers every move.

You bypassed the ground floor and headed straight up the stairwell to the main bar. You didn’t have a meeting set aside with Yoongi because you refused to give him any advantage when you needed to get information out of him. The less time he had to prepare, the better. You didn’t expect to find him in the bar area but you needed one of the others in order to gain access to whichever high stakes room he was more than likely in.

As you sat and waited for your drink the youngest of the seven dropped into the seat next to you. “I see you are taking your sin literally tonight Jungkook.” He smirked back at you.

“Well when you look this good…” He chuckled. He knew he was attractive, his body and charms were a weapon. Tall, dark haired, well built, strong but not imposing, thighs to die for, killer smile and that way of talking to you like you were the only person in the universe. Jungkook was dangerous to anyone he went after. Lust was definitely in his element in the casino and tonight he was not going for subtlety. Every other time you’d been here he’d been in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated every feature that he wanted to highlight. Tonight he was in black skinny jeans, a collared shirt that was being held together with two buttons and a leather jacket. He exuded sex appeal and you needed him to leave the room. You couldn’t afford to waste any of your mental fortitude on anyone other than Yoongi tonight.

You reminded yourself why you were here and spoke. “I need access to whichever private game he’s running tonight.”

Jungkook shrugged. “He’s not running one tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, not believing the statement. “I’m not kidding, I have information to swap with him and some questions.”

Jungkook leaned forward and ran a hand through your hair. “And I told you, he isn’t running any of the private games tonight. V & Jin are. A bunch of foreign businessmen arrived earlier so those two get the honours for the night.”

You refused to break eye contact or allow yourself to notice how he had moved closer to you or all of the little touches he’d given you since sitting down. You did not come here to be seduced by Lust. No, you came here for a far more idiotic reason, to try and get Greed to give up information for free. “In that case where is he?”

Jungkook spun your body around on your seat so that he could stand right behind you. He extended his arm over your shoulder and pointed toward the other end of the floor before speaking in a sensual tone in your ear.. “He’s down near the roulette and blackjack tables. You could always just stay with me though. Surely we could work out a deal.”

You shook your head and removed yourself from his clutches. “You’d stand a chance if I didn’t know what you are. Unfortunately for you, I know better than to get involved with Luxuria.”

He grinned as you got up to leave. “Ah but that’s what makes it fun for me. When I finally do win you, you will beg for me.”

You waved as you walked off. “Keep dreaming on that. Never gonna happen.”

You scanned the area as you reached the blackjack tables. So far you hadn’t spotted him at any of the tables or walking the floor. You were getting ready to go back and chew Jungkook out for wasting your time when you finally spotted him. The mess of white blonde hair, the dark eyes observing the room hungrily from a recess in the room was unmistakably Yoongi. He glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. You approached him and took a seat in the recess next to him.

His low rasp startled you. “It’s fascinating to watch them revel in their greed. They hardly even need my influence on this floor, it’s almost like they think they could win.” He chuckled. “They know deep down that they cannot win, that no one beats the house, but still they try.”

“If they don’t need your influence then why bother making an appearance on this floor?”

“To recharge. I don’t need to influence them but I can feed off their greed.” His dark eyes gleamed. “And there is so much to feed off.” He waved a hand in your direction. “You aren’t here for a social visit so what do you want?”

“I have some questions for you about a case I’m working.”

You would have missed the gleam that flitted across his eyes if you hadn’t been looking at him to gauge his response. The vices were always easy to pander to, the difficult part was getting what you wanted unscathed. “What are you offering in exchange for my answers? You know nothing is free inside these walls.”

“Between 40 – 100% of the physical assets, gold, property, valuables etc will go to you. The percentage depends on the state that I find my client in.”

“80 – 100%”

“55 – 100%. No more. All I require from you is information, you don’t even have to move from this spot.”

He thought about your offer as he watched the humans throw their money down at the roulette tables, as if they stood a chance at winning. Their greed was palpable. “Fine. I will answer 3 questions. If you require more than that then we renegotiate the terms of our deal.” Clever. It was a smart move. This way he would gain some knowledge about what your case was and then he could figure out just how badly you wanted to solve it. He was trying to use your need for answers against you. It was not likely that he would budge from the initial offer of three questions so you got to work on the phrasing, you could not afford to leave any cracks for him to evade answering you.

“Agreed.” He shifted in his seat to face you, providing you with his full attention. “A girl went missing on her way home from night classes at the hospital. She lives in this territory. Every night she would call or text her sister to let her know she was on her way home and which bus she was on. The night she went missing she texted her sister to say she was leaving the hospital but she never arrived home. I initially thought vamps because by the time I was hired all of her records had been wiped. It’s as though she never existed. I met with Jiyong and questioned him about the circumstances. After talking it out I can safely say I’ve eliminated the vamps from suspicion. That now leaves demons, wolves and the fae.”

“Not even considering humans for this?”

“The police sent the sister to me after they came up with nothing. They’ve had similar cases over the past few months and have never found a body or a suspect. Humans just aren’t as adept at making multiple people disappear without a trace.”

“Careful now Syn, that almost sounds like a compliment.”

“Question 1: In the past 10 days have any deals/bargains or agreements been made that resulted in the disappearance of a girl named Juliet on her way home from class at the hospital?”

“No.”

“Question 2: Where was she taken?”

“It’s flattering that you think I know the whereabouts of everyone in this city.”

“You have eyes on every person who lives in your sector and she lives here. Answer the question Yoongi.”

He smirked at you. “Away from her home.”

You mentally kicked yourself for not making the second question more specific. That was a rookie mistake, something you were not. “Question 3: Specifically, what building in which section was she taken to?”

Yoongi glared at you as he pondered how to respond. He eventually sighed. “This particular inhabitant of this sector was abducted before she reached the border. She was taken downtown so you might as well forget about ever finding her. I don’t know a specific building because fae territory doesn’t abide by the normal laws of physics.”

You slumped back into the recess. Fae territory meant bad news. You weren’t even sure if the case was worth pursuing at this point. When the fae took you, you never returned. The travellers had many stories about what happened if you got taken by the fae but that’s all it was, stories. None had ever met anyone who had been taken and returned.

You stared out at the blackjack table and tried to work out what you were going to do. To proceed would mean putting your life in danger but you hated the idea of throwing in the towel and giving up. You were pulled from your thoughts as Yoongi nudged your leg with his. “So, my payment…”

“Are you trying to be annoying or does it just come naturally?

“It comes naturally. But really, what percentage?”

You scowled at him. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Wait. You aren’t seriously going to pursue this are you?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

He scratched the back of his head and stared back out at the casino floor. You resumed watching the blackjack table. A man grabbed your attention. He was good enough of a cheat to not get noticed by the staff or guards but you were sure that he was cheating. The most common thing people tried to do was count cards but it was extremely obvious unless you were a master at it. This man wasn’t counting cards. He was a good player but he was drugging the other players. It was subtle but you spotted the slight touches and the residue that the players couldn’t see. Their betting became more extravagant and their actions less logical so he was naturally cleaning up at the table as a result of their bad bets. “Table 12, red hair and black suit.”

Yoongi quickly looked to the table you mentioned and watched as the game progressed. “That fucker thinks he can steal from me does he? Well. We’ll see about that.” He stood and turned to you. “I can provide extraction from the fae sector for you.”

Your head snapped up to look at him. There was no way he would ever offer something for nothing. “At what cost?” you asked.

He shrugged, a cold smile growing on his face. “If you die I get everything you own.”

You tried not to laugh. What exactly did Yoongi think you owned? Your shitty apartment was full of second hand furniture and you had lived a minimalist life , not by choice, so your version of everything was a lot less than he must have thought. “Deal.” You responded. “Try not to kill the guy before questioning him this time.”

He grinned at you, his gummy smile completely changing his face. “Got to mind the delicate social nuances when you inform some poor fellow that he’s a dumb motherfucker.” Yoongi turned and disappeared in the crowds.

You returned to the bar, thankfully Jungkook was busy and was leaving you alone. You drank your whiskey in peace and watched the crowds. You’d always been fascinated by people and observed their behaviours whenever you could. You could tell a lot from watching a person who had no idea they were being watched. The Cardinal was full of liars, deceivers, criminals and the selfish tonight. Everyone you observed was trying to swindle their opponent and get rich. Observing that grew boring rather quickly.

A tuft of lavender hair across the room stole your attention. Piercing feline eyes stared back at you, cutting through the crowds like a laser. As soon as you stared into them they seemed to disappear. If it wasn’t for the fact that you could still see the lavender hair you would have believed you’d imagined it. You had no idea why you were so drawn to the man with lavender hair but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen him before.

---

You stood at the threshold between the fae sector and the human sector. You had spent the remainder of last night organising how you were going to ensure yourself safe passage in and out. You’d called Juliet’s sister to update her on the case, she’d quickly agreed to your higher fee in the hopes that you could return Juliet to her. Zico, head of the werewolf clans, had given you directions to the main bar in the fae sector. He’d told you that it was the main hub for getting information and that you might be able to get some of your questions answered there. He had told you not to hold out much hope though. The fae were very private and getting direct answers out of them was like drawing blood from a stone. Yoongi had struck a deal with you that promised he could get you out of the fae sector and demons never failed to deliver when a deal was struck so that made you feel a little safer.

You’d talked with sprites that had moved to the mixed sector and they’d given you rules to follow. Don’t eat or drink anything while in the fae sector or you’ll never leave and if you were to run into one of the princes, bow and leave. According to the sprites, the emissaries to the fae sector were the ones who did all of the dirty work like kidnapping girls but the princes were a different matter entirely. The princes could alter your mind and make it so that you’d never want to leave. They could bring you untold pleasure or unbearable pain.

Lastly, you’d called Detective Markham and told her what you could about the abduction and what she was to do if you disappeared. She wished you luck on your rescue operation but reminded you not to sacrifice your own safety just to close a case. That was a little hypocritical coming from her but you had promised her you’d try. Anything more would have been a lie.

So you stood at the threshold trying to talk yourself into crossing the invisible border. You stood at the threshold convincing yourself that you weren’t an idiot to try and find this girl. That you could enter this sector and come back out unscathed. That you wouldn’t need to call in any of your contingency plans to get you the fuck out of there if everything went sideways. You trusted in your abilities. You weren’t just any human, you were skilled in areas that others weren’t and you trusted that you could either get the job done or confirm that Juliet was a lost cause. Either way you would walk back out across the border in a few hours. You squared your shoulders and took a deep breath and then stepped into the fae part of town.

The bar was not like you had expected. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but a tiki themed bar had definitely NOT crossed your mind. It was weird. Surely it was a joke of some sort, or an illusion. Zico had told you about some of the powers the fae had and the drugs they used. He’d given you a dose of something that he said would remove glamour and allow you to really see what was happening but standing in the middle of the tiki bar… you weren’t sure that it had worked. Barmaids were dressed in coconut bras and grass skirts, tropical looking drinks and fruits were being served and there was weird rainbow coloured candy in bowls all over the bar. You felt like you were at a frat party not in a fae bar. They were supposed to be scary… this was the opposite of that.

You watched as another girl wandered around the bar, clearly enthralled by the theme. She eventually made it to the bar and ordered some weird blue drink and the bartender dropped a piece of the rainbow candy in it. He was speaking to her as he stirred her drink and she was giggling at the attention. Part of you wanted to go and stop her from consuming a drop of it but you needed to see what happened when she drank it. She lifted the drink to her lips and took a sip through her straw. Nothing happened. How anti-climactic. She took her drink and moved to a table in the far corner to continue enjoying her drink and staring around the bar. Seriously how could a tiki theme be this engrossing for a person? You were actually starting to wish for something to happen to her so that she’d stop staring at the tiki torches like they were the most exotic thing she’d ever seen in her life.

As soon as she sat down an orange haired man appeared. The way he held himself made you think he was potentially one of these princes Zico had warned you about. There was a cunning gleam in his eyes as he made a beeline for the girl and sat opposite her. You cursed under your breath. You could only see her face as he spoke to her and you watched the flirty smile and body language that she was offering up. As you continued to watch you notice the desire in her eyes build but you also saw something else. Fear. As he continued to speak to her you watched that fear and apprehension grow. She shook her head in response to something he said and he shrugged, moving to get up and leave. She grabbed his hand and begged him not to leave her. It was surreal. Here was this woman in front of you who was clearly terrified but begging to go with the very person who terrified her. She nodded at something he’d said and then they both left.

“It’s rude to stare you know.” A light voice pulled you out of your tunnel vision of the recently vacated table. You nearly jumped out of your seat when he’d spoken.

“You might need to tell yourself that if you were watching me long enough to decide that I was staring.” You turned around in your seat to see who was speaking to you. When you turned you were met with an empty seat.

“You were hardly subtle about it. Sitting at a table alone, no food, no drink, not blinking…” This time you did jump as the voice now sounded from opposite you on the table. You turned back around and staring back at you was a fae man. You knew he was fae because no human looked that good. It simply wasn’t possible. The man staring back at you had the most mesmerising eyes, feline in shape. You felt like you had looked into these eyes before but you couldn’t remember when. He watched with a smirk on his face as you took in his appearance. The lavender hair, that stood out. You were certain you’d seen him before.

“It’s also rude to invade a person’s space without introducing yourself.” You bit back. This guy clearly thought a lot of himself because he scoffed at your words and leant forward on the table, placing his head on top of his hands and raising an eyebrow at you. You hated how good he looked while doing that.

“I like doing things I shouldn’t. I don’t feel guilty. I don’t feel remorse. Why should I tell you who I am?”

You sat back in your chair, wishing you had a whiskey right now. “Well, simply put, it would be rude of you not to introduce yourself now.” There was something about this guy. If any other being irked you like this you wouldn’t have tolerated it but something about him made you keep your cool. You mind was trying to work out when you’d seen or spoken to him before but it was coming up foggy. You had a niggling feeling that he had been keeping an eye on you over the past few days but you had no proof. You weren’t stupid though, you knew someone had wiped part of your memory. The foggy emptiness that a memory wipe left behind was something you’d seen in clients over the years but it had never happened to you.

He chuckled at you. “Is this how you treat everyone you meet?”

“Stop evading the question.”

“What, and ruin the air of mystery I have working for me? No I don't think I'll give you a name yet.”

You leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you. “Why won't you tell me your name?”

”Because that would be telling.” He took a sip of his whisky and licked his lips “Since when do you need a name to enjoy someone's company?”

It might have been his eyes, the way he just licked his lips or it might have just been the strange feeling of familiarity he gave you that caused you to respond with “I can think of at least one good reason.”

That caught his attention, earning you another smirk. He placed his glass on the table in front of him and used his free hand to push your hair behind your ear, slowly trailing his hand along your jaw until he reached your chin, which he lightly grasped. “I do wonder what that reason could be. You make it sound so very enticing. Did you notice that I never asked for your name?”

You smirked. “Names are dangerous to throw around, especially with the fae.”

He sighed. “You ruin the fun so quickly. Fine. Why are you here kitten?” You glared at the pet name he gave you. “What? You don’t want to give me a name. I have to come up with one myself.”

You centred yourself and reminded yourself not to get into an argument with the fae. This guy seemed playful enough now but if you pissed him off you could tell you’d regret it. “I came to ask some questions about a missing girl.”

He sat silently, waiting for you to continue. “She went missing a week ago from the hospital. It wasn’t humans, vamps or demons that took her. Her records were scrubbed so now it appears like she never existed. The last sighting of her was 5 days ago as she was taken across the border into this territory.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “And?”

It took all of your will not to snap at him. Why would he give two shits about the life of a human? You described her to him and handed him a photo of Juliet. “So my first question is; have you seen her?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Who took her?”

He sat back in his chair, swirling his whiskey. “How much do you know about our kind kitten?”

“Enough to know that you are clever and dangerous.”

He laughed, actually laughed at you. “I meant our history but it’s good to know you aren’t stupid like that girl you were staring at earlier.”

You scrunched your nose as you thought. “Not much. No one is really all that forthcoming with fae history lessons.”

He set his glass on the table and sat up straight. “There are 9 fae princes. 4 belong to the seasonal courts, summer, spring, autumn and winter and 3 belong to the solar courts, dawn, day and night. There are 2 emissaries, one to the seasonal courts and one to the solar courts. The emissaries are the ones who frequent the human world. The other princes are supposed to remain in their lands and not venture out into the human world but they are easily bored so sometimes they visit to observe and to choose new playthings. If they find a plaything, the emissaries collect said plaything for them and transport it to the fae lands. These 9 princes are said to be devastatingly handsome and dangerous. They each have a power that helps their court flourish and grow... Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry but if you could see your face when you said devastatingly handsome. Ego much? So, is the point of this history lesson to tell me that Juliet was taken by one of the two emissaries and is now a plaything in one of the courts?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Be careful how to address me now. I ignored your earlier rudeness since you did not know my status. Now that you do, I won’t ignore your lack of manners or tact any more. It is true, Juliet now resides in one of the courts.”

Your shoulders dropped. If she was in one of the courts and not somewhere in the city there you had no hope of getting her back. You hated cases with bad outcomes but no one ever entered the far realm and came back. Once you entered, you were as good as dead in the real world. The man across from you noticed the shift in your mood and pouted slightly. “You could get her back. For a price.”

You shook your head. “Deals with demons are iffy enough, striking deals with the fae? That’s a whole different problem. The price is always too high, and 90% of the time the deal is worded in such a way that it only benefits the fae.”

He smirked at you. “You might find that you enjoy this one.”

“I can’t make a deal with anyone if I don’t know their name.”

“I thought you specialised in dishonest finesse?”

“I also do a brisk trade in putting knives to peoples’ throats and shouting at them”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Something is different, you weren’t able to focus on me before. Why is it that you can now?”

“A little wolf helped me get past your glamour.” You paused. “Answer one more question for me. Have we met before?”

“Oh my dear, if you remembered you would blush.” He bit his lip and stared at you brazenly. “I will make an addition to my terms. I will secure passage for Juliet, the girl from that picture who went missing from the hospital last week, to be returned to her sister unscathed, not remembering anything about her time in the fae lands if you agree to tell me your name, allow me to remove the glamour on your mind and live in my court for one month. After the month is over I will offer to wipe your memory and return you or let you keep your memories and return you.” He took a swig from his glass and chuckled at the look on your face as you tried to process the fact that you had met him before and apparently had some sort of history with him as well as how specific he had been in wording the deal. “See, fae can make detailed deals when we want to.”

“How do I know you or anyone else won’t harm me?”

“No harm shall come to you whilst under my protection, which will last from the moment you enter the fae lands until you leave a month later.”

You mulled the proposed deal over in your head. It seemed fine, your only concern was that you would have to go to the fae realm for a month. “I will agree to your terms with a few additions. 1. The normal fae rules for food and drink consumption will not apply to me whilst under your protection. 2. You will tell me your name during this month. 3. You will allow me one phone call before I go with you and 4. Juliet and her sister will remain safe.” He agreed, his lip curling upwards as you sealed the deal with a handshake. A small brand appeared on your forearm in the shape of a snowflake. “Winter court I assume?” He nodded.

You dialled and waited for your call to be answered. He picked up after 3 rings. “What?”

“Yoongi, the extraction plan we made a deal on, if I am not back in The Cardinal in one month send someone to my office. If I’m not there, extract me from the winter court.”

Yoongi’s low rasp sounded “Are you really this dumb Syn?”

“Your missing citizen will be returned tomorrow. I’ve struck a deal and I’d like to think after all these years hanging around you lot I’ve picked up on a thing or two.”

“Just remember what happens if you die.” With that he hung up.

The prince of the winter court had a devilish smirk on his face as he approached you which unsettled you. “I’m going to show you a memory that was wiped before we leave.” He raised his hand to your face and cupped it. Memories of your night at The Cardinal came flooding back to you. How you’d followed the lavender haired fae to the bar and tried to flirt in order to work out who he was. He’d played along, toying with you. He’d moved you into a small private booth in the bar and allowed you to push him down into the booth and straddle him as you drunkenly tried to get answers out of him, the lust and desire clouding your mind. You should have left the casino earlier, the effects of the sins, namely Lust, were starting to get to you.

“Yes, I think I'm starting to see why you might want my name.” He rolled his hips against yours causing you to cry out. “Do you want to know my name?”

“Yes!” You panted. He was giving you pleasure but holding back, yet to touch you where you craved it the most.

“Hmm, I think you're going to have to earn the privilege. Think you can earn it Syn?” You responded by kissing and nibbling at his neck whilst removing his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Then you started to kiss your way down his chest and slid yourself down off his lap until you were knelt in-between his legs. You ran your hands up the inside of his thighs and bit your lip. The memory then faded.

He whispered into your ear. “For the record, I know your name. You are still working on getting mine.” You were blushing as the memories remained with you, embarrassed at what you’d seen. He took your hand. “Ok, time to go. A deal is a deal. As soon as you enter the fae realm you are under my protection and Juliet will be sent back home.” He tugged your hand and started to walk towards the back of the bar. The wall shimmered and he waited for you to step through.

The last words you heard before stepping across the threshold were. “You have a month to earn my name.”

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bookwrm99 · 5 years

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Salty and Sweet

Hi! So, I’ve never posted here on tumblr before.. being totally honest, I just made this account a couple months ago so I could read some *good fanfiction* (and I haven’t been disappointed). Just a heads up, the rest of this post is about a sensitive topic: anxiety and panic attacks. I don’t want to accidentally trigger anybody. :(

I’ve been having a really hard time in the past few weeks; there have been a lot of medical emergencies with my close family members in addition to some family drama. I love to write, though, so I’ve been using it as an outlet. I recently wrote a (decent?) Asra fanfiction that helped me to vent out a lot of my internal and external struggles, and I thought maybe posting it here would be a good idea, in case it helped somebody else going through a hard time too. It’s easy for me to forget that my anxiety is not a flaw, not to mention that I have a support system here for me when I do have my emotional breakdowns, and I have to be reminded of that a lot/need a lot of affirmation from my s/o and my close friends. Everybody deserves an Asra in their lives, someone who loves you for who you are and will always be there for you, in any capacity you need. This is not meant to be a one-size-fits-all anxiety; this is just a reflection of my own personal struggles, the physical symptoms I’ve been feeling lately and the fear I’ve been experiencing over my immediate family finding out about my social/generalized anxiety disorder. Please don’t take it as me saying “oh, this is what all people with anxiety experience”; everyone with anxiety experiences it in a different way. I imagine mine like a fingerprint: nobody else in the world experiences anxiety in quite the same way that I do. Sorry, the preface got a bit longer than intended. This fanfic is basically what I imagine Asra doing for an apprentice who experiences anxiety on the regular, primarily what would happen when they have their first panic attack in front of him. If you’re reading this and you experience anxiety, I want you to know that you are so incredibly strong for making it through each and every day with it and that I’m sending a lot of love your way. <3 Salty and Sweet- (tried to have it be a) GN apprentice x Asra Alnazar. 1.7k wc. TW: anxiety and panic attacks It took every ounce of willpower within you to remain behind the shop's counter, a customer-service smile plastered to your face. It had been growing all day: the need to hide, a tightness in your chest that brought tears to your eyes which you had to carefully hide and brush away, lest anyone catch on to the fact that something was not right. You felt too tightly wound, like you would snap any second, and the fear of breaking at an inopportune time simply added to the anxiety growing within you. You had no idea what caused you to feel this way: always on edge, the smallest blunder setting off a massive overreaction. It had been this way for as long as you could remember. In all actuality, “as long as you could remember” was only three years, but you suspected this had been a long-term problem based on the quantity of calming teas and herbal remedies your past self stashed in your private drawers. Asra was in the back of the shop with the last customer of the day, performing a tarot reading for them. You couldn't leave the counter unattended, so you straightened the wares within the glass case and behind the counter with incredible desperation. Anything to preoccupy yourself until you could escape to the privacy of the upstairs, where nobody could see you. How you had been able to hide it for so long, you weren't sure, but you felt somewhere deep in your gut that Asra suspected something wasn't quite right. He had never walked in on your episodes despite living together for so long, but sometimes when you had to make a quick getaway into a private space you could see the question in his eyes, the slight part of his lips as he thought about asking. You feared the day he found out about them, the way he would react, how he would think of you. Your heart ached at the thought and you shied away from the thought of his rejection, the thought of him thinking less of you for having such uncontrollable bouts of unprovoked fear. Apparently you had been able to hide it from him well in the time you had been together prior to your death; at least, you assumed so, because Asra never said anything to you about it. You silently prayed that today would not be the day he discovered the flaw in your design, though the weight on your chest was becoming more unbearable by the second and your composure nearly impossible to keep. Tears were flowing more freely now, and you did not trust yourself to speak, feeling the tightness from your chest spreading to your throat as well. You focused on taking slow, even breaths, counting from one to five with each breath of herb-laden air in and out. The lavender on the shelf behind you was doing nothing to calm you at this point, and you fought not to hyperventilate. You heard rustling in the back room, the sound alerting you to the end of the reading, and you quickly turned to face the wall behind you, busying yourself with straightening the wares for the fourth time in the past hour. You could hear the fabric of the curtain rustling behind you as it was drawn back, the footsteps of both Asra and the customer slowly approaching then passing where you stood. You dared not turn around, afraid of your own expression. Asra and the customer engaged in idle chitchat, slowly approaching the front entrance, opening the heavy wooden door. The cool summer night breeze blew in through the crack of the door, washing over you and stirring the fabrics and hanging herbs interspersed throughout the store. "Have a good night," Asra gently ended the conversation, following the customer out to extinguish the lantern and flip the "Open" sign to "Closed" before reentering the shop. "Well, that's it for today," Asra sighed, sounding tired. "You've had a long day too, (Y/N). Looks like your entire stock of echinacea is wiped out." You swallowed thickly, afraid of your own voice but not wanting to tip Asra off by not responding to his banter. "Yep." Your voice cracked at the end and your stomach dropped, the feeling in your chest overwhelming you as the rest of your panic hit you in a large wave. "(Y/N)?" Asra asked, worry evident in his voice. Gods. Why now? Your breathing was speeding up of its own accord, and your body began to shake uncontrollably. You felt gentle hands come out of nowhere to grab you by the shoulders and you jolted, like a wild animal cornered, causing Asra to freeze. "(Y/N), what's wrong? Please look at me." Your body froze in place, afraid to let him see you in your current state. Though Asra was loathe to touch you after how you responded the first time, his concern for you and the foreignness of the situation caused him to reach out and gently capture your chin, directing your gaze towards his face. His brows furrowed and the corners of his lips turned downwards as he saw the tears spilling from your eyes, and he slid his hand up your jaw to rest on your cheek, using his thumb to brush featherlight touches across your skin. Suddenly feeling lightheaded and dizzy, you abruptly grasped his wrist, feeling your legs buckling underneath you. Asra's eyes went wide, and he quickly stooped to wrap his other arm around you, catching you from your fall to gently lower you to the ground. "Shh, shh, I'm here." Asra murmured into your hair, sitting beside you and holding your shaking body close as you rode the wave of your panic. While the touch wasn't unwelcome, you hated to let him see you like this, and you dreaded the explanation you would have to give him for this sudden emotional breakdown. After what felt like hours, finally your breathing began to slow, the tightness in your chest ebbing away into a blissful numbness. With your tears slowing, Asra gently lifted your face to meet his, thumbs gently brushing away the tears lingering on your cheeks. Asra continued to gently hush you, resting his forehead against yours and looking deeply into your gaze with his beautiful purple eyes. "I'm here, my love." His voice was soft, like a caress, and though he didn't understand what was going on he was determined to provide you the support you needed. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes more, with Asra's fingers brushing away the salty tears from your face and his plush lips leaving sweet, gentle kisses to the hairline above your forehead. When you had calmed, Asra leaned back to look at you fully, the question dancing in his eyes and in the set of his mouth. "Should I make tea?" Though not the question you had expected, you nodded gratefully. Calming tea would do wonders for you in this moment. Asra slowly stood, bringing you with him, treating you as carefully as you would a newborn babe or precious china tea set. Leading you to the little table in the kitchen, he sat you down, then began bustling about, putting hot water on the stove to boil in the beat-up kettle and pulling your favorite tea to put in the teapot. While he worked, he silently glanced over at you on occasion, worry written all over his face. When the kettle began to hiss and scream, he pulled it off, pouring the boiling water into the waiting teapot to steep. Grabbing the nearest two teacups and rinsing them out, he brought them to the table along with the teapot, set between you on a thick, woven piece of cloth. "Are you alright to talk?" Asra asked cautiously, afraid to push but concerned about you. You looked down at your hands, taking a deep breath as your heartrate increased exponentially. "Yes," you started, then felt your throat close up as emotion began to overwhelm you again. "Please don't think less of me." "My love, I could never think less of you. You can tell me anything." Asra spoke with deep conviction, reaching across the table with his right hand extended towards you. You reach out and take it with your left, looking up at him with watery eyes. Then you spill over. You tell him everything, your constant bouts of panic, the self-remedies you found in your private drawers, the inevitability of an emotional breakdown every time the smallest social blunder occurs or deviation pops up to your carefully laid out plans. Asra listens to it all with patience and kindness in his eyes, though his brows are still drawn together in worry. You carefully sip your tea, afraid of Asra's reaction, despite the numerous displays of his support to the contrary. It was a worry you couldn't help. Asra smiled gently at you, raising your hand to his lips for a kiss. "I promise you that I will find you a more potent remedy. You should not have to go through life like that, my love, and I can't imagine how hard it is for you." His soft voice carried across the table to your waiting ears, and he took a sip from his own cup, finishing off his tea and setting it back down. "I will always be here to support you, (Y/N). I value the trust you have in me. I will never think less of you, especially not for something like this." Your eyes fill with grateful tears. His reaction was completely different from the one you had feared he would have, and you abruptly rise from the table, rounding it and throwing yourself into his lap, twining your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Asra." You said, arms tightening. "I love you." "I love you too." The two of you sat still for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, breathing in their scent. Then, slowly, your eyelids began to drift shut, Asra's heartbeat guiding you into a calm, dreamless sleep.

#the arcana #arcana fanfic #asra #asra x reader #the arcana spoilers #asra x mc

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mdelpin · 5 years

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It’s Over - Chapter 2 (Final)

Gratsu Bingo 2019 Prompt: Coffee AO3 | FF.Net

Chapter 2

Gray thought about changing the sheets when he got home, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He inhaled Natsu’s scent, still strong on his pillows, could feel his body reacting to it, but he wasn’t in the mood for pleasure anymore. He remembered Natsu telling him how people’s smells didn’t last very long, and for some reason, it made a knot form in his throat.

He just wanted Natsu back in his bed, needed to wrap himself around him as they slept. It was one of his favorite things to do with the fire mage outside of having sex, and knowing that it wasn’t going to happen tonight or any other night left him feeling dissatisfied.

He spent a long restless night, all sorts of thoughts going through his mind. For the first time that he could remember, he wanted to fix things, but he didn’t know how. Usually, when someone left him, he rarely thought about them again. Just moved on to someone else.

For God’s sake Gray, stop running from your feelings!

Cana’s words lingered in his mind, but he refused to admit they had any merit. He did not have feelings for Natsu thank you very much. Sure, they were friends and teammates, and he cared what happened to him to a certain extent, and his body, well, his body was incredible, no complaints there. And he was fun to talk to and fight with and fuck.

Damnit!

No, there was just no way he could lead Natsu on just because he was a great fuck. Natsu was in love with him, and he was not going to play with him. Nope. Not when he did not have any feelings for him. He finally managed to get to bed right before dawn, only to be woken up by loud knocking at his door a few short hours later.

“Gray! Why the hell aren’t you at the guild yet?” Erza’s angry shouts could be heard all the way to his room.

Shit! They were supposed to take a job today. He’d completely forgotten.

He ran to open his door, for once wearing pajama pants. “Sorry, Erza, I had a hard time getting to sleep.”

Erza could only snort at him, “Oh yeah? What was her name?”

“What? Why do you automatically assume I had someone here?”

“Because your apartment reeks of sex. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to change your sheets after you were done? Seriously, Gray. That’s disgusting.”

Erza went into his room and stripped his bed, throwing everything in the washing machine he’d recently bought after one too many incidents at the laundromat. He knew better than to say anything to her, but he was angry, and as he heard the machine run, he couldn’t help but feel like she’d taken something special away from him. What the hell was going on with him?

He didn’t know, but he was now in a foul mood, and that was a bad thing to be in where Erza was involved.

“Why are you standing there glaring at me? Go get dressed, we need you at the guild,” Erza snapped, hands at her waist and foot tapping restlessly.

Gray scrambled to get ready, but that feeling of loss didn’t leave him. Now he really had nothing to come home to. Maybe he should go out that night and find someone to replace Natsu in his bed. That might be best for everyone.

He walked with Erza to the guild, trying to keep his temper in check as she continued to get on his case about every little thing. When they finally entered he went straight to Mira for a cup of coffee, getting himself some distance from the overbearing Erza. He could hear Natsu quietly talking with Lucy, and he had to wonder.

Was he telling her about what happened between them? From the way Lucy was laughing, he doubted it. He could feel eyes on him and turned to see Cana smirking.

“What?” he snapped, still pissed at her for not letting things go the night before.

“I read your cards last night,” Cana grinned looking very smug, “I see coffee in your future.”

“Well, duh, I’m drinking it right now, Genius. Your powers are seriously slipping if this is the best you can do,” Gray rolled his eyes, but Cana only giggled knowingly and went back to her barrel.

He willed himself to act normal and walked over to his team’s table, sitting next to Natsu, thinking it would be easier to not have to look at him. Natsu grunted a greeting and went back to talking with Lucy, and Gray immediately realized he’d made a huge tactical mistake.

When he was sitting next to Natsu, he couldn’t help but smell him, which was making his body react in ways that were not exactly appropriate to the guild and it made him almost ache with the need to move his hand just a little bit so he could touch him. But that wasn’t allowed anymore, and he couldn’t move, or someone might notice his problem.

“Gray?” Lucy was waving her arm in front of his face, and he blinked at her.

“What?”

“Weren’t you listening? Erza asked you to go to the Request Board, it’s your turn to pick a mission.”

“Uhm, I don’t care, you can pick this time,” Gray replied, both his hands going down to his lap. Natsu raised an eyebrow at him, and when he noticed where his hands were, he looked hurt.

“Hey Erza, I just remembered I was supposed to go to Saber today to do some training with Sting and Rogue,” Natsu muttered through clenched teeth.

“Fine, fine. Training is a much better use of your excess energy than fighting with Gray, we’ll see you when you get back.”

Natsu said his goodbyes and after calling out to Happy, left the guildhall without even a glance in Gray’s direction.

Lucy looked after him confused, “He never told me anything about that, did you know anything, Gray?”

“Why the hell would I know anything about what that idiot does?” Gray retorted, trying to sound normal, but inside he felt anything but. It wasn’t his fault that his body had become used to certain things around Natsu. He hadn’t like that look either, it made his stomach feel funny.

Thinking about where Natsu was going to avoid him was making him feel even worse. Why the hell would Natsu go see Sting, that guy was always all over him, and he’d claimed to hate it.

Gray wanted to tear someone’s head off, preferably the blond Sabertooth Master if he dared lay a hand on Natsu. At least, his other problem had ebbed, and he could stand up to look for a mission. To his frustration, none of them were anywhere near Sabertooth.

He grabbed one that would let him beat up the largest amount of creatures, much to Erza’s approval and they soon set off. The mission did him some good, he got to pummel Vulcans to his heart’s content. Lucy mentioned she’d never seen him so violent before, whereas Erza studied him with interest.

But all Gray could do was think about the fights he would have had if Natsu were there, the fun they would have had ganging up on Lucy and how they would have competed over who defeated the most Vulcans. It just wasn’t any fun at all without him around.

They were gone for two long days and when they returned Natsu had yet to come home. Gray was about ready to head over to Sabertooth himself, when Natsu finally showed up, a relaxed smile on his lips. One that Gray recognized well, and he felt like someone had stuck a dagger in his heart.

“Natsu, you’re back!” Lucy greeted him cheerfully, “How was your visit?”

“It was fun, Yukino gave me something for you, said you’d asked her for it,” Natsu rummaged through his bag and handed her a wrapped parcel.

Lucy squealed excitedly, rushing over to Levy to show her whatever was inside.

Natsu looked over at Gray finally and gave him a tentative smile, but when he noticed Gray’s strange expression, he asked: “What’s the matter with you?”

Gray just turned away and walked to the bar, asking Mira for a drink. Natsu had slept with Sting, how could he do that to him? After admitting only three days ago to being in love with him. Did he think he’d just be able to forget Gray by replacing him with Sting? Was he going to leave Fairy Tail to go to Sabertooth?

Every drink made him feel worse. It hurt. It seriously hurt to think of anyone but him touching Natsu, it felt like the fire mage had betrayed him. Like he’d sucker-punched him when he was already down.

Why did he feel like this?

Is this what Natsu had felt when Gray refused to acknowledge they were together? Because if it was, then Gray had to admit he was an asshole. But he hadn’t gone off and slept with someone else, dammit!

“Does anyone know why he’s acting like this?” Natsu asked his guildmates, having no idea of anything that might have happened in his absence.

All of them looked at him with equally clueless expressions.

“I don’t know, but I’m about to cut him off,” Mira frowned at Gray’s slumped body, “Natsu, could you be a dear and take him out for some coffee or something, it might help sober him up.”

Natsu wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, but he’d had a long talk with Sting and Rogue about the situation, and they’d encouraged him to try to actually talk to Gray about his feelings. Both of them thought Gray returned them, but he was too much of a dumbass to realize it. He wasn’t as convinced, but he figured if Gray was drunk, it was more likely that he’d let down his walls and be honest with him.

“Coffee?” Natsu scratched his head, where was he supposed to take a drunken mage out for coffee at this hour?

“You could take him home, unless that’s a problem?” Mira suggested, not understanding Natsu’s resistance to her simple request, “He’s got tons of coffee there.”

Cana smirked into her drink and watched Natsu’s discomfort with amusement.

“Uhm, no, I guess that’s fine,” Natsu tried to grab the lump that was Gray, but when he saw who was touching him, he started to struggle against him.

“Don’t touch me, you fucking cheater!”

“What are you even talking about?” Natsu looked around the guild nervously, Cana was looking at them with interest, while Mira looked just as confused as he felt.

“You went to Sabertooth, and you let Sting —”

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Natsu interrupted, covering Gray’s mouth as he helped him up and dragged him out of the guild, not noticing Cana watching them with a knowing grin.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Natsu roared, “I thought you didn’t want people to know about us.”

“I don’t knoooow,” Gray whined drunkenly, “You did something to me.”

“I didn’t do anything, you idiot,” Natsu protested, “I went away to give us both some space.”

“You fucked Sting, I’d call that something!”

Gray felt himself falling before he was caught by familiar arms that continued to pull him along.

“What?! I did no such thing, sleeping around is your thing, not mine.”

“Don’t you dare put this back on me, I haven’t slept with anyone since you dumped me!”

“Wow, Ice Block, for three whole days? You deserve some sort of prize,” Natsu deadpanned, although he had to admit that information sort of surprised him. He’d half expected Gray to have found someone already.

“That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?” Gray accused, irritated by Natsu’s response even though he knew he deserved it. “You’re missing the point. There’s something wrong with me.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, and not just sex stuff. Other stuff, that’s why I knew you slept with Sting when I saw your smile, it’s the same one you always have after we do it,” Gray ranted, words pouring out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He could hear Natsu sigh, “You really are an idiot, aren’t you? It’s called being happy, Gray. I had that smile cause I was happy to see you again, although God knows why when you’re acting like this.”

“You really didn’t sleep with Sting?” Gray couldn’t let go of the image of Sting touching Natsu, it made him want to cry and kill Sting at the same time.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not interested in Sting, I’ve told you that before,” Natsu pressed his lips together, he couldn’t understand what the hell was going through Gray’s head.

“I don’t get why I feel like this,” Gray lamented, “What does it even mean?”

“I don’t know, Ice Princess, only you can answer that,” Natsu replied, looking around to see how far they were from Gray’s apartment. Not too much further. With a grunt, he continued to bear most of the ice mage’s weight until reaching his front door. Gray had been quiet for the last few minutes, and Natsu nudged him to open the door.

He quickly got him inside and dropped him on his couch before turning around to leave. As much as he’d wanted to talk to Gray, it had pissed him off that he would think that Natsu would sleep with Sting so easily.

“Natsu.”

There was nothing more, just his name, but the intensity in Gray’s voice made Natsu stop at the door. He refused to turn around, though.

“What?”

“Stay.”

The sheer vulnerability in the way Gray said that word was something Natsu had never heard before. It shocked him, it was everything he’d hoped for, but as he felt his resolve weakening, he fought against it.

“I can’t,” Natsu clenched the edge of Gray’s front door hard enough to feel splinters piercing his skin, “You already know how I feel.”

“Please.”

Natsu cursed, he couldn’t say no to that, and he knew it, not when Gray was practically begging him.

“Fine,” he barked, closing the door as loudly as he dared, and moving to the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot, “but we’re not having this conversation with you drunk.”

Natsu made them two large cups of black coffee, handing one over to Gray after adding some sugar. He didn’t really want his, but the warmth in between his hands was comforting. He sat down on the couch and waited patiently for Gray to finish his coffee, before handing him his and placing the empty cup on the coffee table, knowing Gray liked his coffee room temperature anyway.

“Feel better?” Natsu tilted his head, taking in Gray’s appearance. He looked haggard, his usually clean-shaven face was covered in stubble, and his eyes seemed impossibly tired, but Natsu reasoned that might just have been because he’d been on a job with the team.

Gray shook his head and laughed bitterly, “Missions aren’t fun, my house feels empty, and my insides feel weird.”

Natsu sighed, “You’re being overly dramatic. It’s normal to feel sad when something ends, you’ll find someone else soon, and you’ll forget all about this.”

“You don’t understand, I’ve never felt this way before,” Gray snapped, frustrated that Natsu didn’t seem to get what he was trying to say. “I don’t want anyone else! I want your smell on my sheets, your sounds during sex, and your body against mine while we sleep.”

“Gray —”

“Shut up, I’m not done! I want you to comfort me when I have nightmares, and annoy me when I’m trying to read and goad me into fights and yell at me when I get hurt.”

“If this is what it means to have feelings, then yes, I admit it, I have them. Just please stay with me,” Gray implored, and in a quieter voice, he added, “Please take me back, nothing’s any good without you.”

Natsu didn’t know how to respond, he’d never expected anything like this to happen. It was more than he’d ever dreamed he’d hear from Gray. He didn’t have any words to express how he felt. Instead, he grabbed the cup out of Gray’s hands and placed it next to the other one.

He led Gray upstairs to his bedroom and undressed them both down to their boxers. Gray didn’t protest, and when Natsu lay down on the bed, Gray quickly lay next to him, nervous about making a move. Afraid Natsu would leave if he did the wrong thing.

Natsu turned and gave Gray a chaste kiss before grabbing his arm and wrapping it around his waist, spooning into Gray’s cooler body.

“Goodnight, Gray.”

“Goodnight, Natsu,” Gray held Natsu against his body, leaning down to kiss his head with reverence.

The taste of coffee, still bitter on his breath, reminded Gray of Cana’s prediction, and he chuckled, wondering what else the cards had shown her. He'd find out soon enough.

Tomorrow he'd tell everyone about them. He couldn’t wait to see how they would react when he showed them Natsu was his boyfriend.

Gray inhaled the pleasant scent of Natsu in his bed and in his arms, drifting off with a contented smile. He couldn’t help but feel like everything was right with the universe once again.

#fairy tail #gratsu #gratsubingo2019 #ftlgbtales #prompt: coffee #update #natsu x gray #gray x natsu

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max-myself-and-i · 6 years

Text

I’m Coming: Part 4, Final Part (Clint x Reader, Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Words: 1504

Content/Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Fluff, etc.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: At some point, everyone starts projecting thoughts back and forth to their soulmate. The reader has been chatting with theirs since age sixteen, but Clint Barton does not want anyone using his soulmate against him so he has never told them his name, but that whole plan falls apart the day HYDRA figures out who they are.

“The conditioning is strong,” Bruce said. He, Bucky, and Clint were watching a monitor that showed the room you were in across the hall, unconscious and cuffed to an exam table. You woke a few hours ago but fought the restraints so hard they had to dose you again. Steve tested the cuffs himself first to be sure you couldn’t escape, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t cut yourself up trying.

“We all remember how long it took to get me out of it,” Bucky said “not to state the obvious, but a faster solution would be good.”

“You said your soulmate messed with your conditioning when she was still alive, right?” Clint asked. Bucky nodded. “Bruce, can you make that… nanobot whatever to turn the gene back? I might be able to deprogram them from the inside, for lack of better phrasing.”

“That could do some serious damage to you,” Bruce warned. “Barnes’ conditioning at least didn’t involve his soulmate at all. Y/n has been tortured into believing that all they want is to kill you. Are you sure that’s a mind you want to get into?”

Clint knew that nothing could be worse than the silence already in his head.

“I’m sure.”

---

It took Bruce two days of round-the-clock work before he had a version of the nanobot solution he was willing to test on you. Clint insisted on being present when he administered it, having refused to leave the monitor room across the hall since returning to the tower.

“One more time, are you sure? I don’t know what having their conditioning in your head will do to you.” Bruce gave him a hard look while he prepared the injection. You were still unconscious, but the most recent dose of tranquilizer would wear off within the hour.

“Just do it Banner.” Clint watched the needle go in, hating that he could still remember your projected screams when the HYDRA scientist had given you the original injection. He walked to the other side of the room to sit down in the corner. As hard as it was to move away from you he wanted to be as non-imposing as possible when you woke.

Bruce sighed as he left the room, passing Bucky in the doorway. “Barton.”

Clint looked up, surprised.

“I thought you might want some company. And maybe someone who can take them in a fight without shooting them, just in case.” The look he gave was apologetic, but Clint motioned for him to join him on the floor.

“I just don’t know what to do when they wake up. I’m their soulmate, not a shrink. I don’t think I’m really qualified for this.”

“Barton,” Bucky’s expression was almost stern “Y/n held up under torture for over two weeks. HYDRA broke them, sure, but I’m living proof that you can un-break a super soldier. They’re a fighter, so don’t you believe for a second that they aren’t still in there. They’ll be able to hear you soon, and I bet you a whole lot that the first thing you’ll get from them is your own name.”

Clint stared at him. That was the most he had ever heard Bucky say at once, and somehow, he felt better. Looking up, he saw you stir.

Y/n? No response, but you moved a little more, feeling the restraints.

Y/n? Pushing gently into your mind, he was met with a wall of cold. I know you can hear me now, I can feel it. The mental wall was raw intensity, but there was barely any emotion to it. You had to be feeling something, somewhere. Throwing caution to the winds, Clint took the years of experience he had in your mind and tore at the wall. You fought him, struggling mentally to hold up the block and against your physical bonds, but it gave out.

Behind it, Bucky was right. Clint Barton is my soulmate. My name is Y/n L/n, and Clint Barton is my soulmate. Clint Barton is my soulmate, my name is Y/n L/n. The mantra repeated over and over until he pushed in to the middle of it.

Y/n, it’s me, come back to me

Clint? Your eyes snapped open and met his. He saw recognition there and his heart beat faster. You remembered.

“Hey there,” Clint stood. He couldn’t hold back a smile despite the situation. Bucky was looking between the two of you, not understanding the breakthrough that Clint had made.

You came for me. I knew you would.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He was speaking out loud now, trying to ground you in reality.

I, I almost killed you, I’m so sorry. It’s exactly what they wanted and I, I couldn’t hear you—

Clint took a tentative step toward you

“Hey, hey, stop that,” he said. “This is pretty much the farthest thing from your fault.”

What did they do to me Clint? They gave me something else and when I woke up I was… so strong. And I can see and hear so well? I used to need glasses, Clint, and now I’m pretty sure I could tell the thread count of your shirt from here.

“We think it was super-soldier serum. That’s what the, uh, the extreme restraints are for.”

Super-soldier—like Captain America super-solder serum?

“Yup. The guy over there is Bucky Barnes, if you know the name. He offered to help. Thought he might understand where you’re at.” Bucky gave a small wave and a smile from his spot on the floor. Clint felt your anxiety and was about to ask Bucky to leave when he realized what you were thinking.

Hey! You think he’s pretty, don’t you? Clint reverted to private conversation.

Don’t you? You flashed a mental grin. The fucking Winter Soldier just waved at me, I’m having a very interesting day.

And The Fucking Hawkeye is your soulmate! Way to give a guy an inferiority complex, he projected in mock jealousy.

You laughed out loud at that. It was the most wonderful sound Clint had ever heard.

“I missed something, didn’t I,” Bucky said.

“Yes you did, thankfully,” Clint replied with a stern look at you. “Babe, how do you feel about getting out of those?” He nodded at the restraints.

Yes, please. You didn’t seem ready to speak out loud. I think I’m in control. Maybe pretty boy back there should stick around just in case though. You sent him another mental laugh at his disgruntled expression.

“Alright Barnes, I’m going to let them out.” Bucky stood, wanting to be ready for the worst.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. Clint nodded and walked the rest of the way to you. He hadn’t realized how much the restraints were bothering you until he offered to remove them. Your whole body was tense. When he grabbed your wrist to remove the first one he realized that this was the first time you had touched other than trading blows a few days prior. He moved to the next wrist, then both ankles and your midriff, not wanting to touch you too much while you felt trapped.

Standing on your own two feet for the first time in a couple days, you stumbled and put a hand on Clint’s shoulder to regain your balance. He was debating between getting a hold on you in case you fell and keeping still so you could control the pace of things when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close.

Seeing over Clint’s shoulder, you saw Bucky duck out of the room with a nod to you.

“Please hold me, Clint,” your unused voice was a whisper, but clear in his ear. Grateful for the permission he slipped one hand around your waist and held your head to his shoulder with the other. You stood still for a moment, both soaking it in. He pressed a kiss to your temple, squeezing you tighter, and you felt a tear hit your neck.

Unable to hold back any longer, Clint Barton broke down, shaking and sobbing into your shoulder.

I’m so sorry, I tried to get there faster. I thought I’d lost you, that I got you killed, that—

It was your turn to ground him with your voice. “Hey, hey, breathe,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair to calm him. “I’m right here, I’m safe, and nothing that happened out there was your fault.” He was no longer projecting coherent thoughts, finally letting out a month of stress and exhaustion.

His sharp sobs ebbed after a few minutes. You pulled him to the corner and sat, legs thrown over his, arms around each other, faces pressed into each other’s necks. His tears still trickled down your skin but you breathed together, calm.

It’s over. We’re safe, you promised.

I couldn’t ask for anything better than you.

There’s no one I would rather share this bond with.

I—I love you Y/n L/n

I love you too Clint Barton

And with that, you both drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @thoughtsofdarc @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@whatisanniedoin@wefracturedmotivation @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @dragonluver9393 @xanaphorax @sweetlydecaf @cutiepiemimi13 @agentsinstorybrooke @nyxveracity @bitchy-ginger-1

#clint x reader #clint barton x reader #I'm coming #max-myself-and-i #avengers fic #clint fluff #Hawkeye x reader #Hawkeye fluff #soulmate au #avengers soulmate au #marven x reader #avengers x reader #Hawkeye #clint barton

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bedfordrambles · 6 years

Text

thursday

It was a Thursday night, mid July. The week consisting of an unbearable heatwave, and despite the fact it was a little past eleven, dark skies and brighter stars, the air was still heavy and humid.

Maybe the fact that you were livid, and shouting and screaming at an equally enraged George, only added to it. Heat.

Both bursting through the front door of the flat only moments ago, the air feeling even hotter, clinging to skin. You - stumbling over to the window, thanks to the impossibly high heels that you had chosen to wear to impress rather than practicability. George continues to rant somewhere behind you, struggling with a tie that he had worn for the same reasons as your heels.

“I didn’t have to fucking bring you, George. I’m sorry I did, I shouldn’t have. I forgot you don’t know how to act around people that don’t lick your ass over your stupid fucking shitty band. My fucking mistake.”

The window sticks, refusing to open more than an inch, no matter how hard you push - it’s been a problem for weeks, something neither George nor Matty bothered to try fixing.

“Fucking Christ - can neither of you fix a bloody goddamn window! There is no fucking air in here. ”

You quite literally stomp your foot, for emphasis and out of utter frustration, while reaching around to unzip the stupidly expensive dress you had bought only yesterday. Matty had helped you pick it out, while being the mess he was, his own fashion sense blurred between edgy hipster goth meets homeless person - he had quite the eye for what would look good on other people.

The dress was simple - short but not too short, slightly poofy skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and of course black, but scattered rose heads, red. Now it felt like it was burning into your skin, your head already on fire from drinks and George.

“They always fucking hated me, dunno why I thought it would be any fucking different this time. Pretentious fucking prats.”

Turning to face him at that, tossing his blazer over the couch haphazardly. The heat was clearly getting to him too, struggling to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt his face was flushed a similar shade to your lips. Red.

You roll your eyes - George always had a problem with your family, and your family always had a problem with George. The more you think about it in retrospect, the more you wonder how fucking insane you were to bring him tonight. He cuts you off when your lips part.

“And don’t you even fucking dare say that I didn’t try, there’s only so much smiling and laughing you can do at the ‘oh you’re still in that band’, ‘still haven’t gotten anywhere with that band’, ‘still wasting time with that -’ Fucking hell, how do you do it?”

It was your mum’s idea to invite George. Well, she didn’t know it was George at the time, she just insisted you bring the ‘new boy’ you were seeing. She had done well to mask the shock when you showed up with George on your arm, and to be fair she gave him more of a chance than anyone else had. Your older brother had gotten engaged recently, it was a soiree kind of celebration. A few hours later, and copious amount of digs about the band, and fastly downed drinks - you had to drag George outside when the two of them began a rather heated, and a rather loud argument. “You just brought me to piss them off, didn’t you?” is what he had yelled once you got him outside. You didn’t, but he didn’t want to believe that. Accusations.

He repeats it again now. And you scoff, now that you were comfortably away from your family, and didn’t have the added pressure of not trying to cause a scene.

“Yes, George. That is exactly what I fucking wanted to happen. Well done, thank you for playing the arsehole boyfriend so well. You’re a natural.”

He’s not your boyfriend, nothing’s official and you don’t know why you said it but you’re tired, and hot, and frustrated. Your throat is burning now too, whether it’s from shouting or thirst, you don’t know. George didn’t lose his temper often, he wasn’t about confrontation at all. It was bad tonight - bottled up rage, sparking. You can see it in his eyes - the exact opposite to the air in the flat, cold and ebbing. He won’t let you past him, when you try to walk away.

“You know what’s always really sickened me? We’re exactly the same. The only difference is, I don’t want my parents privileges. I never used Mummy and Daddy’s money to go to Uni, or to rent a fancy apartment in a posh part of town, or so that I could prance around fucking internships and not have to worry about anything else. I have more fucking dignity than that, everything I have - I’ve earned myself.”

He had dropped his tone to a snarl, stalking closer until he had you backed up against the wall. You can’t look at him, afraid you’ll slap him if you do. Your hands shake, and your jaw clenches. You and George had grown up on the same street, when he moved there. Your parents had liked him for a short space of time, until he found Matty and the band, and the wonders of drugs and alcohol. Your dad never warmed to Matty, or his van, or how the smell of cigarettes and weed always clung to you after spending time with them. Your mum had a change of heart when you were sixteen, when she came home early from work one day to find a very stoned and very half naked George in your bedroom, struggling to get his clothes back on while you looked equally disheveled. Your older brother had grassed you up a small number of the times - like when he spotted you in a bar the band was playing at, or when you had asked him to pick you up from hospital after Matty had an accident with the van, leaving you with a minor concussion.

“So yeah, spose you’re really slumming it with a bloke who’s in a shitty dead end band who delivers fucking Chinese food and shares a flat that’s falling apart with his best mate, right - princess?”

You focus on his chest, how it rises and falls restlessly - the lack of air, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. And you know he doesn’t mean it, not really - but you hate him for saying it all the same.

“You know I never thought that.”

It comes out quiet, barely audible. Almost masked by late night sirens that creep through the window, through the shadows of street lamps. You chance glancing up at him - but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Do I?”

It’s a mocking sound, harsh and cold. You think you lose it then, his body too close to yours, too hot.

“Oh, fuck you.”

It’s a typical, cliche reply - but it’s is all you can manage to get out, frustration - anger twisting your tongue. Making it hard to breathe let alone speak, you push past him. Needing air, needing to get away from him. Fingers - catching onto to your arm, imprinting heat, and you pull away. You’re both off again then - hurling insults, shouting and more shouting.

There’s shouting until his lips are on yours, and you’re not sure who had instigated the kiss, but neither of you were fighting it. The kiss is all hot breaths, uncoordinated mouths, and desperate sounds. His hands - your waist, hips, fingers gripping until he has you back against the wall, then his hands travel to your face, jaw. Yours fisting the collar of his shirt, in efforts to pull him closer. The heat was nearly unbearable now, making you dizzy - but it felt good, it felt like George.

Discontent sounds - when his mouth leaves yours, pressing his forehead to yours instead. He shakes his head when you try to catch his lips again, telling you to look at him, through breathless sounds. It’s a soft sound, not patronizing, cold like before. His eyes are still closed, but you wait nonetheless. The room silent - save for heavy breaths and thundering hearts. His chest heaves under your palms, and your feet ache more and more every second in the heels you were currently cursing.

“I love you.”

Is what tumbles from his lips and sends shivers right down your spine, despite the heat. You had expected an apology, or a simple sorry. You didn’t really know what to do with a proclamation of love. It stayed sitting in the air, heavy. At the moment, you still hated him for how he had behaved, what he had said, but love and hate are separated by a fine line.

So instead of saying anything, you kiss him again. Just as heated as before, holding nothing back, fingers stumbling over buttons on his shirt.

Naturally, you both end up in his bed. Clothes disregard somewhere between the sitting room and his bedroom, until it was just skin on skin. The window in his room is thankfully in full working order, although the sounds of lazy night time traffic do little to hide the desperate noises, and the sound of hot skin against hotter skin that circle the room. Everywhere he touched - his lips, hands, left new trails of heat, fire. Enough imprints of mouths and fingers to prove that. Hot breaths - span across the skin where your neck and shoulder meet, his hips relentless against yours, your leg hooking around him and your fingers tugging on hair in both silent and fairly vocal requests for more. It’s all messy kisses, harsh movements, sharp pants, and sweaty bodies. Outside it starts to rain, pour. A final break.

He knows your body at lot more than you would have thought. He knows the exact places that entice soft sounds when his lips taste hot skin, and louder sounds when his teeth sink in. He knows how to drive you to the brink of insanity and make you beg for him by slowing things down when your hips arch up against his, before giving in and giving you more. He knows when you’re about to lose it, when you’re nearing the edge, from the way loud sounds turn to breathless ones that resemble his name, from the way your fingers grip, and pull, and mark skin, from how your body arches into his like there’s nothing else. Just you and him.

When you start to fall asleep it’s to the beat of steady rain - and the smell of rain meeting hot tarmac and pavements. Sweaty limbs still entangled, George’s lips pressed to the nape of your neck, soft kisses. Content, for now.

#have some shitty george angst #and kinda smut #iddkkk how to write smut anymore sozzzz #:))))#george daniel #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fanfiction #george daniel fanfic

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brainitworkstechnology16 · 3 years

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All You Need to Know about Adobe Workfront Fusion Professional Certification

Adobe Workfront Fusion Professional Certification Exam Credential, Operations analysis OR complications are these gnarly challenges that frequently require the building of a fancy algorithm to optimize. airways utilize these to plan routes and the daily placement of plane. logistics operators consume these to determine the best vicinity to save products in a barn andor the most excellent technique to prefer orders. marketers exhaust them to establish the staffing needs of specific checkout lanes. The device of choice for decades has been a multi-variable polynomial blueprint for a lot of OR purposes.

many of the more recent superior technologies which are acting in utility application today are machine gaining knowledge of ML or algorithm-primarily based items. setting up the good judgment for these has gotten less complicated over time however isn’t for the faint of coronary heart.

It seems that it is now time for OR to take care of some of the thorniest problems in professional capabilities: optimizing the total staffing pool for top-quality company and customer outcomes.

Mavenlink lately demonstrated its advanced resource access performance that is part of its PSA expert services Automation suite of items. It’s whatever to peer.

while a aid management RM module is frequently found in PSA options, it’s normally used by a revenue person or project supervisor to choose group individuals for a given challenge. As such, it may assist optimize monetary, timetable or charges for a single challenge. Mavenlink’s superior tool can study all of the existing and skills initiatives a capabilities company has and determine a couple of potential staffing solutions.

Like an excellent OR solution, it appears at distinctive variables, can lock some people to a specific initiative, and so forth. it will probably existing a few potential options for executives andor venture managers to think about. What it does is help planners, resource managers and others establish ways to assist provider companies:

aid managers can identify and tune specific sensitivities to model different what-if staffing outcomes. users accept the skill to check which variables to seem at optimize for leading to an extensive variety of abilities staffing situations.

Mavenlink Optimizer is a powerful useful resource optimization toolset that leverages operations administration science, superior algorithms, and analytics to beat previously awkward aid management and planning challenges. agencies can assess highest quality staffing combos for big portfolios of tasks requiring distinctive skill units, throughout numerous geographics, for various time durations. using the equal capabilities, services leaders can implement sophisticated situation planning to consider a way to most fulfilling steadiness provide and demand, resourcing suggestions, and the implications for undertaking beginning, profits cognizance, and earnings margins.

What Mavenlink has discovered is that features corporations often need a couple of resource managers to optimize the chargeability of baby groups of americans. It appears that animal beings accept a tough time making an attempt to steadiness so many variables e.g., a person’s potential, the distinctive roles each mission needs, what assignments are mandatory for the staff grownup to strengthen their career, the amount of shuttle essential for some projects, the economicsprofitability of a given assignment, and so on. throughout the services accompaniment. And, it additionally turns out that a columnar spreadsheet isn t as much as the project either.

The state of the paintings in PSA has been a tool that lets a aid manager occupy a look at a pool of people and then rule each of them inout of consideration in line with the assignment schedule that has been loaded into the PSA. whereas this will also be positive, it has considerations, too. as an instance, these assignment schedules in the PSA gadget may also most effective mirror an individual’s appointed assignment for the immediate section of a project and the aid manager might no longer understand that this services adult should be dedicated to this client for this and the next seven phases of labor.

distinctive functions income professionals and useful resource managers might also are trying to optimize a accustomed challenge at the cost of other tasksclients

a couple of aid managers might also need the same adult on their job however one grownup can’t be abounding-time on diverse initiatives. It’s now not humanly viable.

revenue experts, undertaking leaders, etc. may additionally need to preserve staffing the equal few americans they understand in its place of when you consider that other gifted americans for their initiatives

Mavenlink has introduced a finished vision for perfecting aid administration within knowledgeable capabilities, referred to as dynamic resource optimization DRO. The tactics and expertise enabling DRO are concentrated on optimizing undertaking staffing across venture portfolios of any dimension and calibration, while leveraging any mixture of internal and external resource pools. via leveraging DRO, expert capabilities businesses can extra effectively scale, convey sophisticated client consequences, and recognize improved profits and earnings.

The part of that statement that outlined ‘internal and external aid swimming pools’ is definitely value a more in-depth look. Mavenlink’s strategy and a amount adequacy of the enterprise is to support companies faucet into the competencies of freelancers, subcontractors and others to supplement one’s own team. This ability is convenient to state however difficult to accomplish as few corporations have visibility into the body of workers availability of third events.

This presents one other OR possibility as services groups will wish to see viable staffing situations in line with the expend or no longer of different third events on a task and the way these staffing choices have an impact on venture profitability. The tool should also exhibit how these exterior supplies also have an effect on the profitability of different initiatives the enterprise is accomplishing, too. This insight is important as demand for functions can be lumpy and it doesn t calibration smartly. accepting access to third-birthday celebration skill can aid but most effective if useful resource managers can see it and be mindful it.

Mavenlink private Networks addresses essential aid gaps and constraints that may hamper assignment performance, have an effect on customer satisfaction, and constrain boom and margins by using extending the software of Mavenlink’s resource access capabilities to an unlimited basin of external skill, whereas considering that the full breadth of resource features that define most desirable fit.

people-based mostly enterprises often can’t calibration without adding more headcount. It’s one rationale bank road only ethics a features enterprise at small premium to immoral revenues whereas application companies with an identical revenues may be valued -X more. utility is infinitely scalable while people calibration linearly.

It’s now not advisable for a lot of capabilities corporations to show bottomward assignment simply as a result of they could’t employ and coach adequate individuals in the brief-term to handle this new demand. smart establishments will faucet into these external networks if the network includes first-class skill with appropriate knowledge. What these organizations need is entry to a really expert marketplace and to accept it built-in with their resource management toolset.

I’ve regularly occurring one of the vital principals at Mavenlink for quite some time. some of them labored with me when we all worked for Accenture years ago. Their capabilities of how functions companies work, the challenges these enterprises face, etc. is acutely anchored inside them. after we speak, we take note, intuitively and natively, the challenges features organisations can face e.g., a way to workforce a worldwide, multi-antidotal task in a single day. I point out this as abounding PSA companies are run through technologists not admiral who spent their careers constructing and setting up superb client relationships, personnel and functions businesses.

That intensity of carrier company skills is abundantly obvious at Mavenlink. In a fresh dialog I had with Mavenlink’s CEO Ray Grainger, he and i mentioned where this ORML may still go next. He outlined how functions corporations want equipment to optimize the ‘ability deliver chain’. He’s suitable on that. I postulated that new tools could help aid managers team of workers individuals on the current and next a couple of jobs in line with helping the features knowledgeable be positioned on initiatives if you want to ‘stretch’ the grownup’s talents sets and working towards. useful resource management shouldn’t simply be about bushing immediate venture staffing needs however should also create the opportunity to additional develop the ability in the enterprise.

Ray and i also mentioned how OR equipment might analyze how RM options would trade should the tool look at ‘adjacent competencies’ of certain skills group contributors. for example, a venture supervisor that has led a large number of economic accounting application implementations of answer’s EBS application might nonetheless be an excellent task manager on an oracle billow admixture financials implementation if heshe is are commutual with some unique field be counted specialists on the closing product line.

I advised OR when I acquired my MBA back within the Mesozoic period. I fully bought the cost behind it and how corporations would utilize it to incredible financial improvement. tremendously, a whole lot of my profession concentrated on actual pedestrian accounting and enterprise experience issues and the application that automated the techniques linked to these. OR tools had been a rare analysis in most consumers.

It’s time for that to change and there’s no excuse for service corporations no longer to embody OR now!

#acobe workfront fusion professional a fusion 5 adobe workfront fusion adobe workfront workfront fusion training fusion acrobat a composite a

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eighteleven87 · 3 years

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30 Hours.

I had dreams about Lauren H. last night. One right after the other. Soon as I shook out of one, I went into the next one.

The dreams were pleasant. We met off a chance encounter at a hotel and hit it off again. We caught up. We apologized to each other for how we behaved in our mid-20s, and all we took away from each other because we were silly, stupid, foolish, drug-addled kids. Kids who, perhaps, were too similar to work, but similar enough to make something work.

It accelerated from there. The chemistry we shared, the way we looked at each other, it was all still there. So too the memories of what we had done to put such a thick wedge between us for all this time, but so too forgiveness and understanding. Dreamscape Derek took it as two people who loved each other too much, wanted it to work -- truly, genuinely wanted it to work -- but the timing wasn’t right. We weren’t where we needed to be, neither of us.

Of course, this was all fantasy. These were just my brain waves ebbing and flowing as I had had Lauren on my mind from two nights before, which was her 34th birthday. (I can’t believe we’re already that old. I can’t believe it’s been that long since we’ve spoken.)

But the frequency of these dreams stood out to me. How vivid they were, how... friendly... they were. How ideal. How I wish I could just sit down with her one more time at Ed Debevic’s over a plate of wings and fries, a couple drinks between us, and just talk.

That day may never come. I don’t see it happening. The last time I checked, or was informed by my sister who remained her “friend” on Facebook or LinkedIn for some time after we ended it, she lives in or around Seattle. That’s far enough away for it never to matter again. She’s far enough away where she could have, and do, whatever she wants, absent of me and the hurt I put inside her.

Over the course of these dreams a song by Kanye West off his album “The Life of Pablo” began running through my mind, serving as the soundtrack between memories and fantasy. The song is called “30 Hours,” and there is a line I’d always kept close to me due to how it described my roadtrips with her, including one of utmost importance, as it was the last time she would ever see her father.

Chicago - St. Louis, St. Louis to Chicago Ándale Ándale E.I, E.I, uh, oh You had me drivin' far enough to switch the time zone You was the best of all time at the time though Yeah, you wasn't mine though

We took two or three trips to her then-home in St. Louis, and it was the first experience I ever had in Missouri. Early into the relationship I met her family, and I spent some one-on-one time with her father, who apparently liked me. Her father, supposedly, never liked any of the other men she brought home to him.

A week ago, I accidentally logged into a dummy Facebook account I created following our break-up to check on her. I saw her in my “recommended friends” and saw a more recent picture of her. The song goes:

My ex says she gave me the best years of her life I saw a recent picture of her, I guess she was right I wake up, assessin' the damages

I’m not calling out her looks by any means, those are just Kanye’s words and I am copying and pasting them here. But the dream I had last night was indeed about how those were the best years of our lives: ages 24-26. I did see a recent picture of her. And I did wake up, about an hour ago, to hop on this blog and “assess the damages.”

The song goes on about how Kanye is upset at himself when he sees this woman with another man, and he wants to beat him up, even though it’s over between them and they had an open relationship. Me and Lauren didn’t have an open relationship but the other lyrics all track.

She had a hard time letting me go (so did I, perhaps more so). She would text and email me for weeks, months, after the break up to check in on me, even as she got into a new relationship with someone she (at least at the time) didn’t see as comparable to me.

She complained about this new man, and we had a few lengthy conversations about how I was better, how she was just waiting for me, etc. But nothing ever really came from it, so I used that dummy Facebook account to tell the new guy what she was up to, and that’s what ended it for good.

Essentially, I could have gotten her back. She wanted me back. She was waiting for me to figure things out, find a job, clean up my act. But, she also knew we had to move on to accomplish that. Another instance of sand slipping through one’s fingers.

As I woke up from one dream about her, passing into the next, I thought, however briefly: How long would it take to drive from my place to Seattle?

Turns out it would take -- you guessed it: 30 hours. Not a moment less, not a minute more. Here, see for yourself:

I didn’t know this in advance. I never looked this up. This was me hearing the song in my head as the dreams cycled through, already noting the handful of connections that come up in the song. But one final, ultimate connection was in the cards, which I didn’t know till I woke up and assessed the damages.

Now, I don’t know anything about her currently. I’ll be honest: I don’t even know if she is alive. I have tried through the years to reach out to her, to get some closure on the relationship, to apologize for being a fucked-up, lost 20-something, the whole nine. I want this desperately.

It is possible she no longer resides in Seattle. I don’t know, and I respect her enough not to look any further into it than accidentally catching a glance at her Facebook page last week. But, that’s where she landed for a while, after poking about Washington, D.C. for a year or more. And that was the last place I knew her to reside. So to me, it remains eerily fitting.

Don’t get me wrong: These were merely dreams. These were only coincidences. While I don’t particularly believe in coincidences (only incidences), there is good reason for my brain putting these patterns together.

I already had the song on my mind because I listen to it frequently. It was Lauren’s birthday on the 25th. My friend Justin I talk to almost every day online lives in Seattle, and I have communicated to him that my ex may share a city with him. All these incidences combined, and yeah, that might lead to the greater “coincidence” I experienced overnight.

Still. What a wild ride.

Clearly, I have and hold a lot of feelings toward her, and about how things ended between us, and my massive, unforgettable involvement in that. She was right never to speak to me again. But that doesn’t mean it sits right with me. I likely will take this to my grave, which would be most unfortunate.

I would do anything to see her one more time. To feel that feeling. To see that look in her eyes, to share that knowing glance.

Only in my dreams.

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techcrunchappcom · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/wayne-rooney-can-quarterback-help-derby-to-promotion-football-news/

Wayne Rooney: Can 'quarterback' help Derby to promotion? | Football News

Derby were 17th in the Championship table when Wayne Rooney made his debut at the turn of the year. Now they are seventh – just a point off the play-off places.

A stunning free kick against Preston on Wednesday – Rooney’s fifth league goal for the Rams and sixth in all competitions – secured a fifth successive victory for Phillip Cocu’s side to continue a promotion charge that looked implausible in January.

Derby, who face fierce rivals Nottingham Forest in front of the Sky Sports cameras on Saturday, are flying – and the former England international is proving their inspiration in a new, deeper-lying role.

2:02

Wayne Rooney has had a huge impact at Derby, watch his five goals for the Rams since his move to the club in January

Derby vs N Forest

July 4, 2020, 12:00pm

Live on

Derby’s average points and goals per game have doubled since Rooney, Manchester United and England’s record goalscorer, arrived on an 18-month player-coach contract at Pride Park after finishing a second MLS season at DC United.

He is sparking attacks from deep, setting the pace of games, but raising the levels of those around him, too.

The stats paint a clear picture of Wayne Rooney’s impact at Derby

Midfielder Louie Sibley has explained how Rooney has encouraged him to “play without fear.”

“I’ve been taking the advice he’s been giving me,” the youngster said recently. “He’s been great with all the young lads.”

“He just brings a calmness to the team,” says striker Martyn Waghorn. “You can give him the ball in any situation whether teams are dropping off him or if he is surrounded by two or three players, and you know he is going to make the right decision.”

1:40

Louie Sibley shows off his match ball message from Wayne Rooney, following a hat-trick in Derby’s 3-2 win at Millwall

“It’s what Phillip Cocu has done too but Rooney’s impact has been absolutely enormous,” Sky Sports’ Andy Hinchcliffe told the Sky Sports EFL Podcast.

“We saw what Rooney himself can do with that free kick against Preston, but it’s also what he has brought to the young players around him as well, the influence he is having as a person on those around him, too.

Subscribe to the Sky Sports EFL Podcast: Apple | Castbox | Your regular provider

“Derby in the past have spent big money and wages bringing players in, but they have invested a lot in their academy, and Max Bird and Louie Sibley have been outstanding. The structure of the team has been a lot better, the young players are excelling and if Rooney wants to go into management, that is what he has to do, inspire people around him, both young and old.”

Martyn Waghorn has praised Rooney’s ‘calm’ influence

“I would liken his impact to Bruno Fernandes at Manchester United,” said Sky Sports‘ commentator Gary Weaver, joining Hinchcliffe on the EFL Podcast.

“I did a game at Old Trafford before lockdown and Ole Gunnar Solskjaer said Fernandes has lifted the quality of the players around him. Rooney has done the same. Players want to show him what they can do and he’s lifted the level of every player at Pride Park.”

‘He dictates the flow, the tempo – he’s a leader’

Derby first-team coach Liam Rosenior lifted the lid on Rooney’s impact on the pitch and training ground when he spoke to The Football Show in June.

“He’s an outstanding player. You don’t realise how good he is until you work with him every day.

“He’s not a striker anymore, he’s a deep-lying midfield player – almost like a quarterback. He dictates the tempo, the flow of the game. We want to play from the back and dominate possession and he’s become a key part of that.

“What’s been great for me to witness is his effect on the other players around him. His standards in training and what he expects from others, it’s been a joy working with him.

“He came back from Washington and had a month’s break but he wanted to come straight in and get to know the lads. What shocked the players – it didn’t shock me – was his determination and drive to win. You need to be around it; it makes you a leader and winner.

“He’s not a big talker – he does it on the pitch; he’ll have little one-on-one conversations – but he lets his football do the talking. We needed more leaders and characters, especially for the younger players. You need to have that competition, that winning ethic every day in training and Wayne brings that in abundance. It’s lifted everyone in the squad.”

Analysis: How his role works

Sky Sports’ Adam Smith:

Wayne Rooney has helped inspire Derby to the fringes of the play-offs

Debates raged about whether Rooney was a forward or midfielder during his final years at Manchester United after he was handed a deeper role under Louis van Gaal – but Sir Alex Ferguson had spotted that quality and used him to cover midfield injuries as far back as 2011.

On taking the helm at Old Trafford, Jose Mourinho said: “[Rooney] is maybe not a No 9 anymore but, for me, he will never be a No 6. He will never be 50 yards from goal. Yes, he has a great pass but I have a great pass under no pressure.”

At the ripe age of 34, Rooney is now doing exactly what Mourinho vowed against: dictating games 50 yards from goal, while also joining the attack to reveal flashes of his former role.

“Earlier in the season I was watching Derby and I couldn’t see what identity they had and what Phillip Cocu was trying to do,” Andy Hinchcliffe said. “But now it’s 4-2-3-1 with Rooney in the team and lots of energy. You can see what the plan is.”

As the graphic below shows, Rooney’s position has ebbed backwards since his swansong stint at Everton in 2017/18, when he had already moved into a deeper position.

The majority of his passes are now made centrally or down the left channel inside his own half and the direction of those passes are almost exclusively upfield. Even at Everton two years ago, almost half of his passes were directed backwards or sideways.

The graphic below reveals the audacity of Rooney’s long passes in the Championship with Derby, attempted from inside his own half and ending in the attacking third. Only four of these were played across the turf. His ability to launch high, raking passes with pinpoint accuracy over defensive lines is being utilised fully in these twilight years.

Graphic courtesy of Statsbomb

Despite this, five league goals (including two penalties) from only nine shots on target and 18 chances created (including two assists) from just 14 league starts is impressive for a player who spends the majority of games on the halfway line or deeper.

Will Derby gatecrash the play-offs?

Win against old foes Forest and Derby will climb sixth – for a few hours at least.

Their odds for promotion have shortened to 22/1 with Sky Bet – and while a forthcoming fixture schedule including West Brom, Brentford, Cardiff and Leeds looks brutal, the Rams’ fate is certainly in their own hands and only Brentford beat them in the reverse fixtures.

“If Derby continue in this form, you won’t be surprised if they finish in the play-offs, and that will be some story,” Sky Sports’ Andy Hinchcliffe told the EFL Podcast.

“They’ve got five of the current top six left to play, which is tough, but with the form they are in the sides they’ve got to play will be more worried about Derby than Derby are about those teams.

“They are a team you simply don’t want to play at the moment.”

Super 6: Three on the spin for Man Utd

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#Sports

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onwesterlywinds · 7 years

Text

Dearest Ashelia

For all that time and distance and war have stolen from us, I have never once in twenty-six years forgotten the significance of this day.

Ashley moved as silently as he was able across the creaky kitchen floorboards in the dead of night. Alma had moved his satchel from where he'd put it last - or maybe he'd misplaced it himself - but he had promised to keep the lights off and he was supposed to have been out the door seven minutes ago. In truth, there was nothing he needed among his personal effects that could not be replaced once he reported in at the palace; nevertheless, he paced around in the dark until his pulse beat quicker with anxiety and frustration. Then he heard footsteps from the bedroom, then a sigh, then Tia murmuring his name.

His wife had lit a lamp by the time he returned and was sitting up in bed, white sheets kicked to one side, her skin glistening with sweat. The night was hot and unbearably humid, and he did not begrudge her the eventual need to go back to sleep.

"You're leaving?"

He nodded his affirmation from the doorway, only scarcely trusting himself not to speak a word of the mission ahead.

Tia let out another deep exhale, then lowered her gaze to the swell of her abdomen beneath her thin nightshift. "I think it's time. Then again, it could be another false alarm."

There was no plea in her voice for him to stay, nor even the barest hint that she wished for him to abandon his mission in favor of remaining at her side.

"Please promise me," he said. "I know Mondeberta is the finest midwife in the Quarter, and you know I would trust her with all our lives, but please - if anything should go awry, the palace chirurgeons will be ready to receive you. You need only call for them."

"I promise, Ashley."

Ashley did not often consider the possibility of falling in battle, or of never returning home; yet for all he had tried since he and Tia had first spoken of such things, there would be no coming to grips with the notion that he might leave a child with one less parent.

He crossed the room in a few quick paces and drew her into his arms. Necessity hastened his every movement, clipped short what he knew would be their last embrace before everything changed: he tucked a lock of Tia's sweat-streaked hair behind one ear, stroked the line of her jaw as he kissed her, and let his other hand settle on her belly for the briefest of moments before he realized that if he did not leave now, he would never leave at all.

I was not present at the moment of your birth. While you were being brought into the world, I was serving the Mad King through what would ultimately prove to be one of the greatest atrocities in Ala Mhigo's recent history: the Kingsguard's sacking of Rhalgr's Reach.

As a Riskbreaker, my tasks went far beyond those given to the standard rank and file. I was sent to the Temple of the Fist early that morning to eliminate key targets - monks and priests with the standing or the means to rally others against the king. My mission was, in short, to eliminate all hope of reprisal before the battle had even begun.

Leaping Doe sat at the front of the recreational hall with her legs crossed in a traditional meditative pose and a crowd of refugees assembled before her. The hall itself, like much of the rest of the temple, looked to be centuries old, what with the dawn light pouring in through the open ceiling and the elaborate tapestries on the walls depicting scenes of monks from antiquity. Though the space had the means to hold several hundred comfortably, no more than twenty had gathered to participate in Leaping Doe's guided morning exercises. Ashley pulled his ragged cloak - a staple of the Undercity's - a little tighter across his shoulders and sat down at the back of the group, near an elderly Miqo'te woman in rags.

The smile that the young monk sent across her crowd of pupils was kindly but guarded; Ashley could see in that smile every onze the charitable soul the scouts had reported, albeit one whose good deeds had been rebuked once or twice too often. She would allegedly have been bound for a position of leadership within the year, had one of the senior monks not seen fit to promote instead some nephew or cousin. Nevertheless, Leaping Doe's reputation for kindness twinned with her innate gift for the forms had inspired recruits and refugees alike - had given her the capacity to lead others through her example.

In the event of a massacre, she would be the first whom many of them would turn to. She, whether or not she knew it, was among the select few with the means to launch a counterattack against the crown.

She spoke in a gentle voice of committing oneself to great deeds, her words creating a steady rhythm that ebbed and flowed for all to hear. He closed his eyes along with all the others but did not allow his mind to give way to meditation. Though he could have slipped into the Echo as easily as anyone in the hall, that momentary peace would not be worth the lapse in concentration.

He counted the seconds before the refugees stood one by one, stretching and chatting amongst themselves, until each of each of them had departed and Leaping Doe preoccupied herself with putting away any of the threadbare meditation rugs that had been left out across the stone floor. Her death would have to be quick, or all would be for naught. She was bound for the kitchens after this, and none of the routes she might take would be devoid of witnesses-

"What are you still doing here?" Her voice, little more than a murmur, radiated with the same power he had forsaken only moments before. Her every muscle was poised to strike before she had even turned to face him. "Leave now, friend. Cease this course, or I-"

She abandoned her placating demeanor, as he had known she would, and lunged toward him with a shoulder tackle.

The dagger that left his hand flew through the air and embedded deep in her throat. Her eyes widened in pain and shock and fear, and only after a second did the blood begin to seep down her neck in a heavy gush; when she fell to the floor, her final motion was to let out one last cough of blood and spittle before she at last lay still.

He retrieved his dagger and cut slits in her stained tantra robes, that they might fall away with greater ease when he threw her body into the Velodyna. There could be nothing left of Leaping Doe - no means at all for her to become a martyr.

To this day, there are few missions that haunt me to such an extent. It was in many ways my first test of many throughout my stint as a Riskbreaker - a test to see if I could live with the future I had carved for my family and my country through my actions and allegiances.

The blaze shot up through the early morning mist of the Peaks, tearing through the horizon in a column of flame and smoke and dispelling any hope of serenity in that dawning. The only mercy, if any mercy was to be had that day, was that so little grew in the outlying areas: the beacon of destruction shot only upward and bore no chance of spreading to outlying settlements through sparks on the wind. It would instead send a message, one that would be made clearer still when Theodoric's standard was eventually raised over the wreckage.

He had always found it difficult to wait. He suspected that that was part of the reason he had always excelled at his own lengthy missions: so long as he had something to do with himself, no matter its physical toll, he would keep from delving too deeply into his own thoughts. Even when he'd been a newly-orphaned sprat, he would rather have scoured the foulest passage in the Undercity than sit alone and idle on a market corner.

To sit and watch and wait without any guarantee that anyone would ever pass-

There came the brief gust of a southerly wind and he nearly gagged at its stench of burned flesh. Even as it reminded him of that horrible day in Rinomy's only nine moons back, it was enough to tear him away from still more memories.

As the bells dragged on, he espied some few people atop the cliffs from the place where he lay in wait: a lone Roegadyn miner who fell to his knees and sobbed, a slight woman on the back of a chocobo who immediately raced off to the north, a pair of gangly Hyuran brothers in identical cloaks who stood transfixed and clasped each other's hands. He let them come and go, for they could hold no possible threat to the crown.

At long last, the target for whom he had been waiting emerged from a heavy curtain of smoke amid the blackened pillars, as though summoned from the depths of the void. The elderly priest cast about wild glances at his surroundings, shifted a fulm-long bundle in his arms, and took a tentative step toward the road to Ala Gannha.

There would be no traversing the distance between them without being seen, not in the vivid afternoon sun. Ashley raised his readied crossbow and fired three silent shots: two into the chest, a third into the cheek.

The priest had ceased twitching by the time Ashley could sneak over to the body, and the bundle had come unbound in his death throes. Priceless works of scripture, teachings handed down through generations since the great flood, lay scattered and torn at Ashley's feet.

He gathered what he could and left the rest for the earth.

Ultimately, what kept me sane during the aftermath of that day was the unyielding belief that it would all mean something - that there would be some great, underlying justice to the wrongs I had committed for the sake of order. In the years that followed, when it became more apparent than ever that the Garleans had set their sights on Aldenard, I believed an Ala Mhigan tyrant preferable to foreign occupation and told myself I acted only in accordance with those beliefs.

The Kingsguard's initial orders had been for each knight to take up a precise station at each entrance or exit to the network of stone tunnels throughout the Reach and to cut down anyone attempting to flee. That plan had gone awry as the conflagration had spread to the tunnels themselves, quicker than Grand Steward Atkascha could have anticipated. Any fighting was done out in the greater courtyard, beneath the gaze of the Destroyer. Few of the monks who had managed to stumble so far from the temple presented much of a challenge, their lungs so filled with smoke and the reek of death; before long, even the most skilled of their number were overtaken by the sheer force of the knights lying in wait for them on all sides.

But it was no battle. Monks of the sect of the light believed above all else that battle could only ever be counted as an engagement between participants on equal terms. Anything else, they maintained, was slaughter.

The sun beat down into the canyon with a hellish insistency. The pool around Starfall, so clear the previous morning, was now tinged a murky brown. Wherever the fires had begun to abate, some of the knights had taken to gathering up the corpses from within the smoke-filled ruins and moving them into horrific piles. He passed a lone soldier holding a sword in one hand and dragging a burned monk by his hair from under a toppled pillar with the other; when at last the blackened, crumpled body was free, the soldier reached over and proceeded to stab it over and over again.

Beads of sweat ran down from Ashley's brow and back, tracking through every layer of soot and blood and grime. His skin itched beneath his leather armor; the summer heat compounded his discomfort. He needed to find water - clean water, after what they'd done to the wells - before he collapsed from dehydration. With that single focused thought at last propelling him onward, he set out on a new course away from the carnage.

It took nearly two days for the last of the fighting to die down. Only when all was being accounted for, when the weight of the Kingsguard's victory was still being assessed, did I learn of your birth.

I knew then that all I had done had not been in vain.

"Are you alone?"

Ashley, his linkpearl cupped in his hand, cast a glance around the shadowed antechamber. It was full of soldiers as weary as he, many of them a good deal more bloodied, all of them seeking out a moment's rest. "Alone enough." Whatever orders he had been given in secrecy mattered little now that they had been carried out; each of them, Riskbreaker or no, had played their own part in the king's madness. "Let's hear it."

Atkascha sighed, but though Ashley readied himself for a lecture on the need for protocols, none came. Atkascha was in all likelihood as exhausted as the rest of them after over two days of intercepting and analyzing untold amounts of intelligence, despite not once setting foot outside the capital.

"Initial reports estimate over eighty percent of the temple's two thousand four hundred residents have been confirmed dead, with many more still missing. That isn't accounting for the refugees. Not one of your targets has yet been listed among the known dead; as was expected, what survivors can be accounted for have since focused their efforts to locate them, particularly Leaping Doe."

"Go on."

"Word of this has already spread throughout Aldenard. Throughout Hydaelyn, perhaps. These events will doubtless embolden some anti-monarchy sentiments, and an early report from Ala Ghiri suggests that the True Sons are already clamoring for retribution; they will doubtless need to be quelled before long. And-"

"And?"

Ashley could only hold his breath in the intervening pause.

"...Your daughter, Ashelia Marco Riot, was born two days ago without incident."

He was staring off into the distance at something that might once have been a pillar but was now little more than a heap of dark rubble. His daughter. And they had given her Marco's name nevertheless. A soldier off to his left began to clap, then was joined by another; someone else in the vicinity burst into tears.

"You've been given leave to return to the capital at once."

At that, Ashley pushed to his feet with a groan - perhaps he had been sitting on the unforgiving cobbles for longer than he had realized - and hastened to the chamber's exit, to the courtyard where the Destroyer stared down upon them all. Thick rain clouds had blown in early that morning, bringing with them an occasional rumble of thunder. Were he capable of believing in anything at that moment beyond what he could see, beyond what he knew for certain, he might have thought of it as an omen from Rhalgr Himself.

His daughter.

"Are you still there?" he said into the linkpearl thirty seconds after he was certain he wasn't being followed.

"Of course."

"I need a favor."

"Name it."

"Keep talking to me on my way back."

"Too great a chance of you being overheard." There was no one, would be no one for malms, but Ashley suspected his superior had only stayed awake as long as he had in order to be the one to deliver the news. "We'll speak again once you've returned."

The line went dead with a click, and Ashley turned northward in solitude.

We only ever had two wishes for you, your mother and I. The first was for you to see more of the world than we did, and we thought that a foregone conclusion each time you would sneak your way into the Undercity to explore. The second was that you would never feel a need to follow in my footsteps.

Marco was a more loyal, braver, better man than any I have ever known. He died the day you quickened in your mother's womb; you were given his name the day I brought the temple of his faith to ruins. And you are more than worthy of his name. He would have loved you with all his heart.

His eyes burned from fatigue by the time he passed through Gylbarde's Gate. For the first time in longer than he could remember, though he could remember precious little at that moment, he had crossed the Lochs on foot without considering a stop at Marco's tree. There would be time later, his family were waiting, and he did not think he could bear to face Marco then.

He moved like a wraith through the daylight streets, dazed to the seventh hell. He felt removed from the bustle and clamor, numb to every sensation except the sharp glare of sunlight. It would have been easier to go through the sewers, and yet he did not want to travel in solitude any longer; even still, the crush of so many people going about such normal tasks threatened to overwhelm him. Every now and then, always in hushed and agitated whispers, came fragments of discussion of what had taken place at the temple.

Only when he heard three sharp, familiar barks was he jarred back to the present, to the grounding reality that he had come home from one more mission.

"There he is!" came Alma's voice before he had opened the door. "Oh gods, he's back, he's-"

He had only to step through the threshold and into the kitchen before his sister-in-law's arms were around him. "She's beautiful," Alma said. "Tia's resting. Montblanc hasn't left the foot of the bed."

He opened his mouth to voice some apology and blacked out.

That I send this letter now to Rhalgr's Reach proves once and for all that your deeds have far surpassed my own.

Happy birthday, my dearest.

He awoke in his own bed to Tia's fingers pushing back his hair and her deep indigo eyes meeting his own. It was a knowing gaze, an acknowledgement of everything unspoken - a kinder welcome home than any he deserved. With one arm trapped beneath her frame and his head propped against her shoulder, he looked down to find a tiny baby girl, scarcely two days old, swaddled and asleep in the crook of her mother's arm.

And she, Ashelia Marco Riot, was the most wondrous thing he had ever seen.

I remain, now and always,

Your father

#Ashelia Riot #Ashley Rosenheim #Tia Malheur #Alma Malheur #Undertakings #ALSO INGVALD BLOODHOUND IS IN HERE TOO. GUESS WHERE.

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errantknightess · 7 years

Text

Lost and found

Pairing: Lavi/Allen

Word count: 2,900

Summary: Allen finds out about Lavi carrying his ace of spades with him all the time.

A super late Laven Spring Exchange gift for @the14thnea - I’m really very sorry for making you wait this long ;A; Hopefully you will find this fic enjoyable even in spite of that.

[Read on AO3]

The night was stifling, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and once again restless.

Lavi lay on his back, watching the shadows drift across the ceiling. He had given up on sleep long ago, his head too heavy with the recent events to allow him anything better than a few fitful naps that left him exhausted and disoriented. The alternative was almost soothing in comparison. Staying awake meant he could at least try to put up a fight against the memories flooding his mind.

The distant noises of the infirmary ebbed and flowed in his ears. It seemed the medical staff weren’t getting much sleep, either. Lavi absent-mindedly picked up the shreds of sounds seeping through the walls: hushed voices from down the hall, brisk footsteps of the nurses, cabinet doors opening and closing with a soft clack. It was always busy in here, even this late into the night, but their return from the Ark had stirred things up even more than usual. With tension thick in the air, the ward was no place for rest these days, neither for the patients nor those tending to them.

His leg twitched sharply, an almost electric sting of numbness running up and down his skin under the bandages. Lavi groaned and slowly turned on his side, his limbs heavy as if he were rolling in molten lead. The metal bedframe repeated his groan in a mocking, high-pitched tone that made his teeth tingle. Out of all the rickety beds in the room, this one had to be the loudest. Lavi settled carefully, the lumpy mattress protesting his every move. Finally, the metallic whining of springs quivered to a stop and the room fell silent again, so silent he could hear his own breath.

And then, like a distant echo, the creaks and cracks sounded anew. This time, though, they were different than the usual tossing and turning – more timid and jerky, the tell-tale noises of someone trying really hard not to make a noise. Lavi recognized them immediately; he had heard them night after night ever since they got here. With his eye half-closed, he held as still as he could, watching Allen slowly sit up on his bed just within arm’s reach.

It was hard to read his face in the dim light, but its ghostly pale sheen alone told Lavi more than enough. Allen shifted under the blanket, his moves short and shaky like a marionette on a broken string. Lavi wondered how he could still move at all; he had to have more fractures than bones. And yet there he was now, ready to leave the bed and disappear God knows where, just like last night and the one before.

The first couple times, Lavi had let it slide, too sore and tired to spy on him. Still, curiosity wormed its way in even through pain and fatigue, and he could only ignore it for so long. That’s all it was, he told himself, staring intently as Allen set his trembling feet on the floor. Just plain old curiosity prickling under his skin, writhing in his chest, gnawing at the back of his throat—

His hand grabbed onto Allen’s as soon as he took the first wonky step past him.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

For a split second, Allen went rigid in his grip, like a rabbit caught in a snare.

“I just… wanted to get a midnight snack.” The weak smile he offered only made the lie all the more obvious. Lavi sighed, squeezing his hand a little tighter than he meant to.

“Come on, Allen. If you really were going to get food, you wouldn’t look this miserable.”

Allen looked away, his pulse beating against Lavi’s fingers in a rugged rhythm. He didn’t answer, but made no move to escape, either, and Lavi saw this as his chance. With a light tug, he pulled Allen closer, leading him to sit down on the bed. Allen gave in to his guidance like a rag doll, his shoulders slumped and shaking as he dropped onto the mattress. He still wouldn’t meet Lavi’s gaze, staring dead ahead with glassy, faraway eyes.

“Hey…” Lavi started, his voice barely a whisper, but still too loud in the choking stillness. Gently, he ran his thumb over the back of Allen’s hand, hoping for a reaction. “Allen? What’s wrong?”

Still no answer. Allen just shook his head slowly, as if trying to chase away some plaguing thoughts.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” Allen muttered, finally turning back to him with another half-hearted smile. It faltered as soon as their eyes met; at least he realized his masks were no longer of use.

Maybe that’s what spurred Lavi into dropping his own one as well.

His wounds protested as he leaned closer to Allen, as if his body wanted to remind him that he shouldn’t let himself go this far. Allen’s gaze flicked with a quiet surprise, but he didn’t resist when Lavi gingerly rested a hand on his shoulder, with a touch so light he probably hardly felt it through the bandages.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me,” Lavi assured, his confidence rising with every moment of this fragile connection. “I get it. But please, just stay here tonight, all right?”

Allen bit down on his lip, fidgeting with the hand that Lavi still held clasped in his own. Long black fingers tapped a silent melody over his calloused knuckles. He parted his lips and sucked in a shaky breath, but it took another moment before he spoke.

“How can you stand this?”

“What do you mean?” Lavi blinked, puzzled.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” Allen’s voice cracked as he explained, a nervous grimace tugging at his mouth. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to lose my mind if I stay here like this any longer.”

“Allen, calm down. You’ll be fine.” Lavi gave his shoulder a little squeeze, but the words didn’t sound convincing even to himself. It was unsettling to see Allen unravel like this, and he could feel his own composure starting to crumble as well. He needed a distraction – anything for their minds to latch onto before they both give out.

“Let me help you. Come on, how about we have some fun together?”

“Fun?” Allen repeated, drawing the word out as if he held it on his tongue for the first time ever. He seemed confused, and suspicious, and yet – oddly hopeful. Lavi smiled; his hand slid up and down over Allen’s shoulder in gentle, soothing circles.

“Yeah. I know something that will lighten you up for sure.” This was a terrible idea, he knew that as soon as it crossed his brain. He was going to regret it. There was no doubt about it. But at that moment, it was the best he could do. Even at the price of his dignity.

“Care for a round of poker, Beansprout?”

The challenge in his tone made Allen perk up in an instant. Lavi had to wonder just how deep his competitive streak ran; it seemed more like some primal instinct to him – but for now, he was just glad to see that sparkle again.

“I thought you hated playing with me.” Allen tilted his head with that shark smile of his. “You’ve never won even once. What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“Oh, you know.” Lavi shrugged. “I just thought you might need some practice. With everything that’s been going down recently, you haven’t played in a while, right? I bet you got all rusty,” he taunted.

Allen’s smile somehow got sharper.

“Don’t underestimate me or you’ll lose your pants.”

“You wish.” Lavi poked him in the nose with his finger. “No, I have a good feeling about this. It must be my lucky night.”

“Well then, let’s see it.” Like a cat pouncing on its prey, Allen stretched over Lavi’s lap to rummage in his nightstand drawer. A moment later, he scrambled back onto the bed, already fiddling with the worn deck in his hands as he settled in.

Lavi scooted closer to join him, smoothing out the wrinkled blanket between them. Something light fluttered in his chest, an odd feeling so pleasant that it almost hurt. It was as if for a moment everything went back to normal. He watched Allen’s expression flicker from glee to focus, his lips drawn into a thin line and a deep crease on his forehead, half-hidden under the messy white hair. Lavi just barely stopped himself from reaching out to brush it away. But Allen didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all; he kept his eyes on the deck, cutting it and shuffling over and over. His hands moved swiftly and as always, fingers dancing through the cards with practiced ease. He made it look so easy. The graceful gestures were almost hypnotic, but Lavi found it hard to give in to their charm. The sight of the cards cascading between Allen’s palms made him uneasy. They had been cleaned and refreshed, but it was still the same deck – he’d recognize it anywhere. Even without his cursed memory, he doubted he could ever forget. Lavi felt his breath back up in his throat as the pictures burned in his brain, preserved as perfectly as in Timcanpy’s recording: a flash of light, empty gray eyes, a rain of paper scattering on the bloodstained grass…

“Are you ready?” Allen’s voice broke him out of the trance. Shaking himself off, Lavi quickly picked up the cards he’d been dealt and looked them over. A lousy hand, not that he didn’t expect it. He should have known better than to let Allen handle the deck. With a sigh, he dropped three and drew again. Even worse. He rearranged the cards and looked up at Allen expectantly.

“You wanna change anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Allen replied, not even bothering with a proper poker face. “So, shall we?”

Lavi just groaned as they both uncovered their hands. Technically, he got what he was aiming for. Allen smiled the widest he’d seen him for days – but now Lavi yearned to wipe that smug smirk off his mouth.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” Allen gloated, gathering up the cards to hand out another round. “What do you say, mister Lucky Night?”

“I say you’re not allowed to deal anymore.” Lavi plucked the deck out of his hands and gave it a thorough shuffle.

“Really, now.” Allen stared back at him with wide eyes, a perfect display of innocence. “Lavi, don’t you trust me?”

“Allen.” Lavi sent him a stone-hard look as he flung the cards back and forth between the two of them. “I trust you with my life, but never with these.”

Allen shook his head with a laugh.

“Well, if that makes you feel better, do go on. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

It really didn’t matter, Lavi found out with growing frustration as they played one game after another. Even with so many chances to figure it out, he still had no idea how Allen kept pulling this off time and again. Losing all the time wasn’t half as annoying as not knowing why. Still, it was worth it. With every game, Allen’s eyes would light up more and more, and with every win, he’d flash a smile – a terrifying smile, granted, but Lavi would gladly take it over that haunted look from earlier.

The longer they played, though, the more that smile reverted back to a thoughtful pout. Sitting so close, Lavi could clearly make out all the tiny shifts to Allen’s expression, and it didn’t take long to notice something was still bothering him. Something was off. Allen has never been this distracted during a game; one moment, he was watching Lavi like a hawk while he dealt the cards, only to stare off past his hand and mouth to himself as if he was counting something in his mind.

“Hey, quit spacing out.” Tired of waiting for his move, and a little concerned, Lavi leaned over and poked him in his bare toes. “What’s up, you suddenly forgot how to play?”

“Far from it.” Allen swatted at his wrist with his cards, revealing another royal straight flush – his third one in the last five rounds. He tossed them on the blanket and stretched out with arms over his head, stifling a yawn. “This is starting to get boring. It’s too predictable.”

“You know, it could be more exciting if you stopped cheating,” Lavi remarked, still assaulting Allen’s foot with his finger.

“Oh? Look who’s talking.” Allen narrowed his eyes, and before he got any reply, he seized Lavi by the shirt, one hand tugging at the fabric while the other snuck right underneath.

“What—“ Lavi sputtered as the ice-cold fingers brushed against his stomach. Allen swiftly reached up and up, with the aptitude of a skilled pickpocket, until finally he pulled back again and triumphantly waved his loot into Lavi’s face.

The ace of spades.

Lavi had almost forgotten about it – no, wrong, he could never forget, but the card had grown onto him like a second skin over his heart, so much so that he barely noticed it anymore. He stiffened, his head starting to spin with the sickening memories again.

“I knew something wasn’t adding up,” Allen exclaimed, flipping the card in his hand with an amused smile. “I have to admit, though, I’m impressed. I didn’t even notice when you took it! How long have you been hiding it?”

“I…” Lavi tried hard to swallow down the bitter tingle at the back of his throat. He couldn’t look away from that little patch of black and white, fluttering in Allen’s fingers like a butterfly, and something in his eye must have clued Allen in. He followed his gaze down and turned the card over once again, his smile fading as he took a closer look.

“Lavi…” he said slowly, fingers skimming over the dark smears of dried blood on the paper. “How long have you had this card?”

“Since we left China.” Lavi’s voice barely broke through, choked and raspy. “Lenalee and I went looking for you when you two got separated. We couldn’t find you… Timcanpy showed us the place, but you weren’t there anymore. This was all that was left.” He gestured at the card, feeling a pesky dampness under his eyelid.

“And you took it with you…” Allen's face softened as he looked up at him with a fond smile. “You had it with you this whole time…”

“I was holding onto it for you.” Lavi managed a smile of his own, a weak one, but for the first time that night completely genuine. “Now that you’re here, you can have it back, though.”

Allen bit down on his lip, thumbing the tattered edges pensively for a few heartbeats.

“Actually, I’d like you to keep it.”

It wasn’t an answer he expected. As Allen held the card out to him, Lavi took a breath and opened his mouth, but found himself lost for words. What could he even say to something like that?

“But… How are you going to play without it?” he blurted.

“Don’t worry, I can manage.” Allen let out a small laugh, still eyeing him with that heart-melting, tender look. “It’s all right, Lavi. Just take it.”

“Seriously.” Shaking his head, Lavi reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Allen’s hand, keeping it in place. “I don’t need it anymore now. You should have it. To help you win.”

“If that’s what you want.” Allen relented, his grip tightening. “But at least let me give you something in exchange.”

Lavi blinked, once again taken by surprise. Suddenly, Allen’s face hovered closer to him, so close he could see the impish glint in his eyes and the tiny tremble of his lips – and then those lips skimmed over his skin, pressing a short, sweet kiss just by the corner of his mouth.

Lavi stiffened as a warm breath swept his cheek, making the hair on his arms stand up. It all lasted only a few seconds, and before he knew it, he felt Allen starting to pull away. Lightheaded and lost, Lavi leaned in, desperate to stop him. Allen’s soft chuckle tickled his chin. The touch grew bolder. Lavi tilted his head, returning it with timid lips as he let Allen push him back onto the mattress.

They settled down to creaks and groans of the springs, pressed up against each other on the narrow bed. Allen's head was a warm weight on Lavi’s shoulder, bobbing slightly to the steady rhythm of his breaths. His white hair spread out like a halo, shining silvery in the dim light. Like mesmerized, Lavi stroked it slowly with a gentle hand, tangling his fingers in the short strands at the nape of his neck.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Allen’s answer was nothing more than a low murmur that trembled through his chest. Nothing more was needed, though. His heart aflutter, Lavi put an arm around Allen’s shoulders, rubbing small soothing circles into his back as they both drifted away.

The night was sultry, washed blue with the light of the clear full moon, and for the first time in a while, peaceful.

#dgm #d. gray man #laven #lavengiftexchange2k17 #the14thnea #fanfiction #this is so so so late and so so so short and I'm so so so sorry ;;#I have zero excuses

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