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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye II — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

“You’re…letting me go?” Belle stared at her manager Yeeun who, by her clear frown was not mistaken in her harsh words. The two stood in the others’ office with her rack of clothing standing hopelessly in the corner of the room.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to book a venue for a designer with no prior backing?” She continued with her berating.

The younger female assumed it must have around an hour since she arrived and began the onslaught of scolding for missing her fashion show. Belle tried to explain that she needed to help her brother out in a personal situation but family commitment apparently to her was not deemed that important.

“I trusted you and you fucking humiliated me in front of fashion critics.” Yeeun gestured wildly before pinching the bridge of her nose. “You had so much potential too.”

Her heart dropped; slowly wishing that she would go back to just scolding her instead of reminding her of what could have been achieved if the fashion show went on. All the building blocks tirelessly built to get to this point now crumbling down. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back what you just threw away.” The older female spoke in brutal honesty as she usually did except it hit Belle harder than normal. “Go on. I can’t help you anymore. Not when there’re plenty of other designers who actually care enough to come to their first fashion show.”

Belle bit down her bottom lip, sun dipping outside casting a dull grey-ish light in the minimalistic office. Photos of all the different designers Yeeun represented now staring down at her in disappointment as she dragged her rack of clothes out of the office.

The morning welcomed sharp chills even through her coat and scarf adorned her body. She grabbed the two pieces of clothing hurriedly since her new wardrobe was organized by Nana who didn’t really know how the girl usually kept everything. Of course that led to a crap load of confusion in the morning when Belle tried to pair something decent and it turned out to be too thin for the temperature she struggled through now.

It didn’t help her situation when her lower belly still ached a little from last night and her head pounded from the lack of proper sleep.

Belle stopped short in front of the office building to see two men standing in front of her, one of them familiar enough for her to realize who they were for. “He’s having you follow me now?” She seethed.

“Master Jeon found out your car was still in the carpark and you took a train so he asked us to drive it here.” Jongho explained plainly, gesturing to the Camry behind them.

Who knew the mere sight of a vehicle could bring this much relaxation in the midst of this stress?

The female sighed pushing the rack towards the hood. “Thank you but please don’t call him ‘Master Jeon’ in front of me.” Belle kept her voice firm, opening the hood and placing all her clothes into an empty box she had with all her discarded designs.

“But we have to.” Jonghos’ brows furrowed, pouting a little; silently reminding that he wasn’t all the much older than any of them, perhaps even younger.

The other guard besides Jongho took the liberty of pushing the rack away in front of the office building.

Belle dared to take another look at the building again. Not too long ago, she walked into this very building with bright eyes and possibly an even brighter future. Memories of Yeeun smiling at her newest designs, approving them to a point where she even got her a chance at a fashion show. Three critics sat at the audience that night and every single one of them looked more important than the last. Unfortunately Belle had someone far more important than any fashion critic or opportunity. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing grew harder and harder to determine.

“Out here, he’s Jungkook.” She spoke still looking up at the building with a more sour expression now at the sound of his name coming from her lips. “And I’m driving.”

Jongho didn’t protest much on the demand and gave her the keys.

“So what’s the real reason Jungkook sent you?” Belle asked as they drove through the city streets. The car had been pleasantly so much warmer than outside or in the train and she grew more thankful as the ice under her skin melted.

Jongho stammered lightly before sighing. “Master—” He cleared his throat. “D-Jungkook did get a little…suspicious that you might try to find a way to get out of the deal. It’s all still—fresh, I guess.”

The female scoffed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “He put my brothers’ life under threat and thinks I’m going to run away like some sorry bitch?” She spat pressing down the urge to stomp on the brakes and hopefully run over Jungkook accidently when they reached the mansion. “You’re both going home.” Belle finalized ignoring any stutter of disapproval from the two males.

“But he—”

“But nothing…if he’s so scared of me running away then he should come meet me himself instead of sending his men.” Past the bustling city, Belle drove into the familiar road towards the secluded mansion.

The last time she drove down this path her life was so much more different than it was now. How could it all just change in the span of a day? All because one man had too much power over others.

Then she stomped on the brakes, the shaking hand of the speed checker accelerating at a worrying rate up to the hundreds.

Muffled tire and engine sounds numbing her ears as her stomach jumped from the push across the slightly graveled road.

Heart pumping adrenaline, fueling the wildfire in her body, pushing away memories of his fucking hands on her skin, the disappointment she brought to everyone even herself.

“Ma’am!” A frightened voice called out from behind her, mentally slapping her back to reality.

Letting out deep breath Belle slowly braked the car again bringing them back down from the rush as the mansion now came into view. “Sorry.” She glanced over at Jongho who looked more concerned for the female compared to the guard at the back who feared for his life in a split second.

Into the courtyard she stared at the collection of guards who once again stood lined up the entrance of the mansion. An intense feeling of déjà vu flushed over her before turning to the two guards. “Alright, out you go. I need to get to work.” Going to the fashion-house now became the only thing that could make her day that little bit better.

“Master Jeon—he’ll be angry at us if we left you alone.”

Belle saw something oddly familiar in Jonghos’ eyes that she couldn’t shake off. Seeing the recognizable glint reminded her that Taehyung was not the only victim to Jungkooks’ power. “If Madame Saito sees two strange men with me, she’s going to try and call the police. I don’t want her involved in this whole mess.” She explained. “Is there any way you can keep yourself hidden so Jungkook at least knows that you were doing your job?” Both men nodded thankfully.

She rested back on the seat, closing her eyes as her body reminded her again of the anxiety burning her from the inside. “I need to get some warmer clothes anyway so stay here.”

Nana told Belle that Jungkook was out all morning and a little bit of the day on important business meetings around the city. Not that the younger female really gave a shit where he went but once again…common fucking courtesy.

The drive to the fashion-house was quiet aside from some light music playing on her radio.

They arrived at Madame Saitos’ fashion-house. An elegant slab of purple and gold with the monogram of the Japanese Kanji symbol that meant ‘elegant’. Belle remembered getting the job a few weeks before her parents passed away. It immediately turned from a dream job to the only thing keeping her from breaking down after Taehyung started going into a downward spiral.

Now more than ever she needed the sweet caress of fresh fabric under her fingers to calm her down, to prevent another incident like the one on the road from happening. As per her request, Jongho and the other guard who later introduced himself as Jisung, opted to walk into a nearby café.

Belle walked through the glass doors, all her worries seemingly melting away at the look of neatly organized clothes on the different shelves and stands. Her clothes fit warm and snug on her now and the level upstairs for designing awaited her arrival.

“Bella, darling!” She heard the familiar voice echo through the building.

Turning to the right Belle couldn’t help but smile seeing the bright woman walk over to her in a gorgeous purple pantsuit. She gave her a small bow which she waved away.

“How many times have I told you? You’re a fellow designer.” Saito tapped her chin which would have made her giggle.

But her stomach dropped when reality sunk in and she realized Saito was wrong. “I’m not a designer anymore.” Belle smiled sadly.

“And why is that?” She raised her own chin, deep purple lips looking more defined and her dark brows furrowed.

It was as if her mind opened up the millions of drawers she tried to lock up to help her survive the rest of the day but the younger female adorned a much smaller smile. “Yeeun let me go. I couldn’t go through the fashion show on a family emergency.”

Saito scoffed loudly before waving her hand. “Managers don’t make designers. Designers make designers.” She pressed hand over Belle’s heart. “She’s one manager, darling. Don’t let it get to you.”

If it were a less strange time than this, Belle would instantly be consoled by Saitos’ words but there was so much more. So many more things she wanted to talk about but she feared no one’s ears were understanding enough. Even she couldn’t hear herself talk about what happened. “Thank you.” She muttered forcing her mind to feel somewhat relaxed.

The older female smiled, patting her cheek. “I have to go personally deliver this to a client.” She rolled her eyes looking down at the cover hanging over her arm. “He’s this big businessman who wants a suit tonight and just needs to thank the designer in person.” She scoffed making Belle chuckle. “You’ll be in charge for the rest of the day, darling.”

Belle’s heart fluttered in excitement as she immediately nodded.

“Oh and…since you have more time on your hands without Yeeun pestering you. I was wondering if you wanted to work on a few designs for the Spring Line.” Saito smiled casually not entirely noticing that fireworks were going off in her mind in celebration.

She was getting a chance at another line. Another opportunity. Belle couldn’t help giggling a little but she quickly stopped herself. “You’re not joking?”

“Of course not. You’re the best designer I’ve had in years.” She patted her shoulder comfortingly. “One thing though, I’ll need four designs by tomorrow morning so we can be ahead of schedule. I’ve done six that you can look at to see what the concept is but let your wonderful mind run wild.”

A light hint of anxiety seeped through the thick elation bursting through her veins but Belle ignored it, merely smiling at the older female as she walked out of the building.

Sun dipped behind the skyscrapers, warm light shining through the glass giving the whole store a deep warm glow as Belle stood in front of the main counter. Hand ached a little from holding onto the pencil for too long. Grey scratches against the ecru paper of flowy trains and minimalistic patterns to symbolize re-birth in some way.

Something she admired about Saito was her excessive need to shy away from the norm of flowers and nature. Maybe thinking a little deeper into what spring meant and really bringing the art out of her fashion. Part of why despite their prices, people still walked in and out purchasing their numbers.

It was a breath of fresh air from the line of fashion and a wonder to behold during Fashion Week.

Unfortunately Belle’s little bubble of inspiration was rudely popped when the door opened with Jonghos’ voice echoing in the building.

“Ma’am…Master Jeon is asking for you at the mansion.” He tried to speak quietly but the walls resonated even the smallest of sounds.

Her brows furrowed, dropping the pencil on the table making her fingers cramp up ever so slightly. “What does he need me for?” Anger rose and burned through her eyes.

“He said it’s important.” Jongho shrugged.

The woman huffed averting her gaze before jumping off her chair. “Did he call you? Is he still on the phone?” Belle stomped over to the male who tried to back away a little but the glass door closed behind him. “What could he possibly want from me now that’s so damn important?” He already got everything else.

“I don’t know, ma’am…he—he didn’t say.”

“Well tell him that I have a lot of work to do and he can wait.” She glared at the young male even though truly he wasn’t the one she was angry at.

Eventually Jongho walked towards the car with slouched shoulders leaving Belle to go back to work on her counter. The scratches were a lot harsher due to her shaky fingers so she reminded herself to re-do some of these sketches again when it was time for coloring.

“Ma’am?” Jongho called out again in a much softer voice.

Belle’s pencil broke off making her fingers curl up into a fist but she forced herself to take a deep breath. “What is it, Jongho?”

“Master Jeon wants to speak with you.” He held out a phone walking towards the counter.

She glanced at the male before down at the phone, accepting it gently and putting it on her ear. “Yes?”

“Are you trying to be a fool?” Jungkooks’ tone took a dark turn from what Belle heard yesterday; more growly and deep like he had been yelling all day.

“I already said I’m working.” Belle muttered calmly. “What’s so important?”

“We need to go to an event. My aunt and uncle have invited me to come tonight and I need you to be there to get rid of any future suitor arrangements.” He explained with that same infuriating voice acting like she was doing something wrong trying to work.

“I need to some things done, Jungkook, can’t we re-schedule a meeting with your aunt and uncle?” Hands brushed away the pieces of led that broke off from her pencil.

“No we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you realize just what’s at stake if you piss me off too much.” He challenged.

“Your deal was that you’ll stay away from Taehyung if I stay with you.” She corrected.

“You should know that I can change deals in an instant.”

Belle gripped onto the phone suppressing the urge to throw it across the room as she gulped down a lump in her throat. Her dormant anxiousness now fully erupting through every limb in her body. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She stated before hanging up not wanting to hear his voice anymore as she gave it over to Jongho.

Angrily packing up her stuff, she decided to let Jongho drive this time to prevent any incidents on the road from her heated up mind.

So much for fucking freedom. He couldn’t even re-schedule a meeting to let her work. Maybe it was an overreaction but looking at the situation, Belle thought that being livid and frustrated was called for.

The sky turned purple by the time they reached the mansion and Belle barely waited for the car to stop before she climbed out. Grabbing her things, she walked through the entrance ignoring any attempt at the guards trying to hold the bags.

“Finally her Majesty has arrived, what took you so long?” Jungkook, already dressed up in a black suit with a white shirt slightly unbuttoned, jabbed at the female right as she walked through the archway.

Belle merely glared at the male walking past him up the stairs while Nana followed her helplessly. The older female almost wanted to apologize for him but couldn’t find the time as she chased her.

In their shared room, Belle placed the bags of her work next to her side of the bed. Tears of frustration flooded in her eyes a little which she tried her best to hide when she saw Nana come up behind her.

“Dear…” She muttered comfortingly but the younger female shook her head.

“It’s okay, please. I’ll get ready myself.” Belle smiled through teary eyes before walking past her.

Ankle length daffodil-yellow dress adorned her freshly showered body, long curls with the top half clipped away from her face and some shoes to match. As she coated her lashes her mind tried to organize how she was going to rush to the event and then come back to finish all the designs. The deeper the thoughts moved, the more anxiety bubbled inside her almost making her makeup application a little dodgy but decent enough.

“Dear, Master Jeon is calling for you.” Nana spoke gently as if knowing that the sound of his name stroke a nerve in her constantly.

“I’m done, I’m coming.” Belle answered, hands leaning against the edge of the vanity table in the walk-in wardrobe trying to calm down her breathing. I hope you’re okay, Taehyung. It was only the first day and she could feel the weight of it all bearing down on her body. For the first time since yesterday, the woman almost wanted to admit that she may be lot more vulnerable than she thought.

Shaking her head roughly she stared at herself in the mirror. Dusty rose lips mimicking the light hint of colour on her cheeks and a glimmering eyes mostly from the illusion in the shimmery eyeshadow. At least she looked put together. Her body and mind were a whole different story.

Nana held onto her hand as they walked down the stairs, Belle held onto the dress to ensure she didn’t trip and make her stressful day even worse. Little bits of her hair dropped over her face but it was only when she reached the end.

Her eyes slowly trailed up to see Jungkook staring at her up and down the way he did the first time they met.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her outfit for a moment, seeing absolutely nothing wrong but Jungkook must have had something to say.

The man stayed silent for a few minutes shifting in his position. “Nothing. Let’s go.” He muttered coldly walking to the exit with three of his guards already walking behind him like robots.

Belle followed the trail, gripping at her clutch purse.

Dull blue hue adorned the sky when they were outside. The guards dispersed to the sides giving Belle way to move forward where she saw Jungkook looking over his shoulder as if he was searching for someone.

Not a word uttered, Jungkook raised an arm and let it hover over her back as they walked towards the luxurious black Sedan shining even in this grey-ish light.

Throughout the car ride, Belle tried to ask Jungkook what the event was for and what they would be doing for the rest of the night. All her questions answered with detached replies that gave her no explanation whatsoever making it highly difficult to keep her patience.

“At least tell me how long it’s going to be?” She asked in a much softer tone now.

“An hour or something, alright? Now just keep quiet and don’t embarrass me.” Jungkook snapped before looking out the window.

Belle wanted to be shocked at the sudden change in behavior from the dashing and charming man she saw yesterday but this just served as a good reminder. This was all a fucking joke. She was dressing up to play pretend with a scum of a man who had no care for anyone but his own needs and reputation.

The momentary silence broke by muffled sounds of flashing cameras and people calling out or yelling at the glimmering bodies on the carpet.

Jungkook had the car door opened for him and the second he walked out, he could hear the people growing more restless and the cameras going wild.

Belle shifted towards his side now keeping her clutch purse on her chest.

He held his hand out and she accepted it to keep up appearances, adorning an elegant smile on her rosy lips. Their fingers intertwined with one another as they walked past them with their personal line of guards on each side.

Sounds of violins made her ears prick up and the smell of chocolate touched her nostrils, her stomach rumbling a little. Thankfully the incessant noise from every corner was able to conceal it.

The event hall shone in golden light with a crystal chandelier centering the ceiling, buffet standing on the far left, slow dancing in the middle and a sitting area on the far right. People were crowded but nothing like a bustling city. Instead of strangers pressing against each other in trains or trying to push past to get to work, people kindly slithered through crowds or made pleasant conversation before they moved onto the next group.

Though Belle despised the reasoning for being here, for years this was an event she has always wanted to attend. The class, the culture, the clothes; all of it surrounded her like a welcoming hug and she didn’t really protest when Jungkook led her further into the hall.

Fake elegant smile now melted into something more genuine as she curiously peered over at the performers in gold satin dresses dancing in the middle of the hall. On her left, a vast selection of foods, some she didn’t even recognize but the chocolate fountain wasn’t hard to detect and her stomach shouted again.

“Auntie!” Jungkook called out, his usual sour mood moved to a smile as he leaned to press a kiss on an older womans’ cheek.

The lady looked as elegant and bright as the hall they were in, wearing a white dress with golden hair pins in her neat bun while the man next to her—Jungkook’s uncle wore the same simple suit his nephew did. Except he had a bow on unlike her ‘partners’ more unkept look. “I’m so happy you could be here!” His aunt cheered softly, her wide smile showing off all the lines on her face.

“Why would I not? Your events are always my favorite.” He smiled again almost to a point where Belle almost suspected it may have been fake.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” His aunt nodded at the younger male whose lips twitched a little making him grin wider.

This one looking a lot more obviously forced.

His aunt turned to the side and called someone over. A woman who looked around their age, tall and slender with long black hair flowing past her lower back and her body adorning an azure dress, loosely stitched rhinestones in large clusters. All of that topped up with some bright red lipstick and shimmering blue eyeshadow to match the clothes. She gave Jungkook a big, advertisement smile.

Belle felt Jungkooks’ hand leave her and immediately hold his out towards the woman which she accepted happily. She introduced herself as Suyeon, only side-glancing her before fixating her gaze on the man instead.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Suyeon.” His charming tone sounded all too familiar.

“I think you two would hit it off really well.” Her aunt declared already off of a two second conversation. Finally the older woman managed to look over at her. “And who’s this?”

Jungkook hummed in question before looking at Belle. “Right this is—” He paused for a moment staring at the woman as if he was already starting to have second thoughts. “This is a friend…Belle.”

Belle smiled at the three new people even though her heart burned with anger at how quickly he changed his mind.

“Of course.” His aunt smiled.

The four elites dived into deep conversation as Belle quietly smiled and admired the performances instead; hoping they would distract her somehow. None of them really cared about her presence here which didn’t help her fury towards Jungkook.

Ah Jungkook.

He who conveniently shifted on the other side of her so he could stand next to Suyeon instead, conversing with her pleasantly. Everything about their deal now seemed long forgotten leaving Belle to worry about the fate of her brother.

“So…uh—” Suyeon spoke towards her now.

“Belle.” She answered softly, keeping up with that smile tiresomely.

“I’ve never seen you in these kinds of parties before.”

“This is my first time.”

“Ah—” Suyeon gave her a fake smile. “Makes sense.” She eyed her up and down as the other three of them laughed.

Even Jungkook didn’t seem to stop finding it funny.

“I mean…no offense, darling but yellow isn’t really a nice color for these events. They look a little—childish.” Venom flowed from her tongue when she spewed those words.

Whatever anxiety burning Belle from the inside now was momentarily pushed down as the fashion lover inside her scurried up. “It’s called daffodil…not yellow.” She emphasized the word making it sound like an uncouth description to use. “If we are talking about childish, perhaps you could take a closer look at the plastic rhinestones on your dress hanging on for dear life on a single thread.” She looked at her up and down this time. “I highly doubt that’s Louis Vuitton work.”

Her words silenced the four of them immediately. Suyeons’ photo-worthy smile now turned into an ugly frown, the aunts’ brows were raised in intrigue and Jungkook stared at her in shock. Belle merely smiled as the older woman of the group tried to change the topic now into something more lighthearted.

Once the confidence drowned out, anxiety kicked in again wanting to walk out of this vicinity right now and never look back. The four of them dispersed a little but Jungkook walked straight to her, holding her arm and bringing her close. “Behave yourself, alright? There’s no need to be rude.”

Belle scoffed yanking out of his grip and walking towards the buffet hoping that some food would help her mood. The clip in her hair began to prick at her aching head and her shoes felt like they were tighter by the minute. Nothing felt right about this night.

“Oh Belle…” She heard a drawling, sickly sweet voice.

Just her luck. Looking over to her side, she gave Suyeon a similar grin trying to look as friendly as possible even though their previous interaction was anything but that. “Suyeon—”

“I hope there’s no hard feelings about my comment.” There was no genuine nature in her tone in the slightest but Belle played along, once again playing pretend that everything was going swell.

“It’s all forgotten.” She shook her head.

“I also hope you could give me some more fashion advice.”

Belle turned to look at the female and a dampening chill trailed all the way down from her chest to her torso, body stepping back in shock. She looked down at her daffodil dress now stained with red almost forming into an orangish color. Gasps echoed throughout the room and she could feel the stares on her. Staring up at Suyeon, she was holding out an empty glass with a sinister smirk on her face.

“What color is that, little rat?”

“Suyeon!”

Belle could’ve sworn she heard Jungkooks’ aunts’ yelling but she was already heading for the bathroom, the whole day picked at her final straw.

If in a better mood, her eyes would have been shining in glee at the gorgeous white marble bathroom with bright gold detail. But right now they were flooding with hot tears that stained down her cheeks. Body shivering a little from the harsh chill on her entire front, some pieces of her hair completely damp and the skin on her chest reddened as well.

Belle whined lightly under her breath, lips quivering as she grabbed some tissues and dabbed off the excess liquid not wanting to face the crowd outside.

She heard a woman squeal a little when the door opened but she couldn’t care less to look.

Her head was numb, her body flushing from hot to cold and her body too stubborn to stop shaking from the cold and anxiety.

Finally her eyes flickered to the mirror to see a familiar figure standing next to her. The mere sight of him caused her to sigh in elevated frustration. “If you’re just going to yell at me—” Belle spoke in a cracked voice.

“I saw what she did.” Jungkook immediately replied in a mutter.

Belle sniffled washing off the liquid from the ends of her hair, feeling her clothes now sticking to her dampened skin.

The male padded closer reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” She backed away as one hand held onto the dripping hair. “You chose your wife, now leave me alone.” Belle hated that Jungkooks’ previous behavior created a lump in her throat, fresh tears arriving at the brim of her eyes.

A sigh passed his lips as he lowered his head, leaning against the edge of the counter. “Her joke wasn’t funny.” Jungkook murmured. “I just laughed for the sake of my aunt, she stares at my every move when I make conversation with these suitors. I can never seem to gain the courage to upset her.” He shifted in his position. “Truth be told, you were the most beautiful one here.”

Belle shook her head, another tear dropping down her cheek even after touching up her makeup. “I just wanna go home…” She tried to hug herself but it only made the clothes on her front more uncomfortable. “Please.”

Jungkook searched the womans’ expression finding nothing but distress and discomfort in her whole being. He nodded before shrugging off his coat with a sigh. “Here.” He held his coat out.

She hesitated for a moment glancing up at the man before caving as she draped the coat on. Thankfully it was big enough to cover up most of her dress. Once again his hand hovered over her back as they walked out of the bathroom.

Most of the people were back to their own conversations save for Jungkooks’ aunt who still looked worriedly at the two.

“I didn’t know she was going to behave like that, sweetie.” His aunt genuinely looked like she regretted inviting the menace to the event. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” She rubbed her shoulder a little.

Belle smiled at her and nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk to you at a better time, auntie.” Jungkook kissed her cheek again before they walked out of the hall in silence.

Trying their best to ignore the paparazzi, the two were led into their car and were driven home in silence. Belle scooched on the far side on the back seat looking out the window hoping that this day would end. But it couldn’t.

Heat flushed at the back of her neck when she looked at the time. Her work tomorrow would start at around nine after she paid a visit to Taehyung in the rehab center. So that left only a few hours with no sleep to finish the rest of her designs for the spring line. Right up until they reached the mansion, her head began planning all the ways she would keep herself awake and finish the job she was set.

“What happened, mistress?” Nana asked and Belle just replied that a snake got a hold of a wine glass before they walked upstairs.

Jungkook walked over to the bar the last time she glimpsed back only for a second.

Forcing herself to have a cold shower, she put on simple pair of grey sweatpants and a matching sweater with her hair up in a ponytail. Her body million times more comfortable now in dry and warm clothing while her dress was being soaked. Annoyance washed over thinking of the possibility that she might not be able to take the stain off.

Belle sat on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, the perfect place to lay out all her designs and begin her sketching session.

Jungkook walked into the room when she was figuring out where to add details on one of her dresses. He paused a little looking at her deeply engrossed in her work.

She merely glanced at the male before going back to her tasks. Talking to him or even looking at him would only remind her of the time he stole away and for what? Humiliation and a wine stain on one of her favourite dresses? Belle even physically shook her head at the thought. The fact he even threatened to break the deal for this shit only worsened the fury.

But she couldn’t break any more pencils over her anger. Now Belle had to work. If anything needed to go well, it was this. So as the hours kept ticking away, the woman did nothing but do what she did best.

While Jungkook giving one last glance at her, fell fast asleep on the bed assuming she might just come there when she’s ready.

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#jungkook #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #bts mafia au #jungkook mafia au

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darling-dummy-blogs · 3 years

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A Dummy's Heartbreak- Victor Li (PT 2)

Summary: Cassandra calls up Victor telling him that she misses him leaving Victor conflicted with his emotions. He decides to go over to her house to check on her. The two end up rekindling something as the night goes on…

Paring: Victor Li x Cassie (OC)

Genre: Angst (With a bit of Fluff)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes:

Will be mainly focusing around Victor's perspective

Will go into details about why and how they ended up breaking up.

Possible Part 3…?

Massive thanks to @little-butterfly-writes for helping with brainstorming ideas for the break up 💜 (Go follow her, if you haven't already~)

So sorry for the delay with this part! With everything taking place, it's been hard to focus and write when I've been anxious and emotional over the situation within the MLQC fandom. Hope you enjoy <3

“I Miss You. I Miss Us..."

Hearing those words made Victor’s heart leap within his chest. He had hoped and dreamed of hearing these words almost everyday after the break up.

Victor remained silent for quite some time, unsure of how to reply to her words. His light breathing was the only thing that could be heard over the phone.

"...V-Victor? Are you still there?" She spoke out once again to him, the nervous tremor in her voice could be heard.

He swallowed, trying to process the words and managed to clear his rapid thoughts as he replied in a soft, yet quiet tone.

"I'm still here…" Before adding the words he wished to speak to her that day she left Loveland, "I miss you too… More than anything. But why are you suddenly telling me this now? It's been four months, Cassie."

"I-I know… I know it's been a while since I spoke to you… I just… Today… I-..." She trailed off, growing rather quiet.

His eyes trailed off from his desk to look at the calendar. His eyes landed on the day in question. His gaze softened. A deep frown appeared on his face.

"...Our third year anniversary…" He finished for her, his voice coming out rather hoarse, the sadness he felt at that moment made his heart ache.

He could faintly hear her sobbing on the other end of the line.

"I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't have called you. I just… I had such a rough day today, I-I couldn't focus.. I-I couldn't do anything right…"

She took a moment to catch her breath before continuing, "A-and then I realized what today was and it all made sense as to why I was acting like this, why I couldn't stop thinking about you.. Why I… miss you…"

"Cassie…" His voice came out soft once again, hearing her cry, utterly broke his heart. "Breathe… It's okay…" He tried to soothe her.

"I'm right here.." He spoke again. "I'm here for you. You know that."

Hearing those words from him, made her sob more, only louder this time. She knew that. Of course she did. But it still hurts that he isn't physically there with her.

"Cassandra." He spoke again, this time slightly firmer than before. "Listen to me… Breathe… I know it hurts. Trust me, I know more than anyone that it hurts."

He paused, as his eyes landed on a picture frame that laid upon his desk, one that he refused to put away since he had last seen her.

The frame contained an image of Cassie's bright smiling face. A photo Victor snuck in while she wasn't looking during one of their dates.

Staring at that photo, made his vision gloss over with tears. She looked so beautiful in that image.

She always did in his eyes. But he could never forget the look on her face, on the day of their break up.

He spoke again, "But you are strong. You can get through this. I know you can…"

"...Not without you by my side, Victor…" She spoke in a solemn tone as she had managed to calm down her sobs, sniffling.

"I-I've tried everything to get you out of my head, but nothing worked. I drank wine, just to try to forget about all the memories we made. But you still won't stubbornly go away…" She let out a sad chuckle at the end.

Victor grew silent again. A single tear slipped down his face as he stared blankly down at his desk. Taking in her words.

At that moment. He knew what he needed to do. He swallowed, as he wiped away his tears, speaking in a firm yet serious tone.

"Where are you right now?"

"I-I'm at home… Why?" Confusion clearly shown within her words.

"I'm coming to see you. Right now." He stood from his chair, gathering his suit jacket and left his office immediately.

The drive from Loveland to Cassandra's hometown felt long however, it wasn't too long as Victor pulled into the driveway of Cassie's home.

The anticipation of seeing her once again after such a long departure, made his heart flutter. He took a moment as he parked his car, looking at the house in front of him.

The sun barely began to set as he stared for what seemed like an eternity before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepped out of his car. Smoothening his jacket as he made his way to the door. Hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

A few moments passed by and the door flew open. The two made eye contact. Both stared at each other with wide eyes as though they had never met before.

Victor took in her appearance. He could tell she looked tired; the dark circles under her eyes, followed by how red and puffy her eyes were from crying. He could see the tears that stained her cheeks.

Gosh how he hated being the reason that she was upset. He mentally scolded himself for hurting such a loving girl such as herself. For fighting with her over a matter that she was feeling insecure about four months ago.

At that time, he didn't know what he had done to himself. But when she walked out that door, with that look on her face. He knew he regretted everything he had said to her in that argument.

He blamed himself for the longest time for saying such things to her.

Days if not weeks after the break up he did nothing but drink his sorrows away, threw himself into work to occupy and fill in the hole that she once held. Giving everyone at LFG hell to keep his mind from thoughts of her.

Sleepless nights filled with him crying over her, a side he refused to let anyone see. He wouldn't even want to let her see him like that.

His emotions got the better of him then. But now, seeing her within arms reach.. He wanted nothing more but to hold her and wipe away her tears. To take away her pain…

His eyes filled with tears, but he remained calm. She stared at him quietly with tears in her eyes as well, yet she refused to say anything. Fearing if she did, he'd disappear or she'd start bawling her eyes out once more.

She took a deep shaky breath, speaking out to him

"Come in…"

She opened the door wider for him. Waiting as he silently stepped inside. She shut the door quietly behind him as she wiped at her eyes hastily.

Cassie then gestured to the couch once they were in the living room, sitting down in the exact spot she was sitting before she called him.

He sat down next to her. However after realizing how close he was he slightly scooted away to give her some space.

Both of them remained silent for far too long.

Cassie proceeded to break the ice as she spoke, bringing her legs up to her chest while looking at him, "Why are you here, Victor..?"

"...I had to see you." He spoke as he kept his gaze low to the ground.

"I still don't understand… Why though?"

"Because Cassie… I missed you. Just as much as you missed me. I wanted to see you in person because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"...Well.. I'm not okay…"

"..." He looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. A tear slid down his face. "...And I'm sorry for being the reason as to why you aren't okay…" He looked down at the ground once again

She frowned at that statement. "Victor…"

"No. I know that I'm the reason. That's why we broke up to begin with. I-I was too harsh with you.. I always have been."

She looked away. Shaking her head as tears filled her eyes. "That isn't the reason we broke up."

"Then what is it?"

"...The reason we broke up was because I was mad and upset with you for what you told me that day. It wasn't that you were harsh with me… because you were far from that."

She looked at him, moving closer to him, hesitating a second before cupping his face within her hands, making him look at her.

"Y-You were an amazing lover. And I loved you so much.. And if I'm being completely honest with myself. I still do love you. I believe that I always will…"

Her hands lightly caressed his skin, he brought his hand up, resting it on top of hers as he stared into her eyes.

Her lips trembled as she continued speaking. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. "But we broke up because of the awful rumors and ideas about my relationship with you that were being spread by numerous people online, especially by Chik. The argument we had that night took part of it but it wasn't the full reason."

"I didn't want to ruin your reputation. And I didn't want others to tear me down… I was insecure and I didn't want to be selfish by continuing to be with you… to have you to myself... that's why I told you that night if you wanted to end it. Then we would..."

He removed her hands from his face, holding her hands within his own, frowning. "Cassandra, you weren't being selfish nor were you going to ruin my reputation. I can now understand why you chose to break up with me."

"I didn't care about what those people were saying online about you, me or our relationship. I never cared about others' opinions but my own… It has always been like that. That was until you came into my life. Your opinion mattered most to me… That's why that day when you told me you were insecure about those rumors, I brushed it off."

"...Because I would never believe their words about you, because I know you. And I love you more than anything in this world. I just wanted to be with you…"

She stared at him in shock. Tears glided down her face as she listened to his every word.

"In hindsight… I should have cared a little more, knowing that you are more vulnerable and easily hurt by others words than I am… That was my error and for that I am sorry…" Tears slipped down his face as he added, "I-I never wanted to lose you, the way that I did."

He let go of her hands, moving to wipe at her tears, resting his forehead against hers. "I still… want to be with you. That's all I've wanted since you left."

He admitted, gazing deeply into her eyes. She stared into his eyes, nearly getting lost in them as she was unsure of how to respond to his words.

She swallowed as her breath hitched when she realized how much closer he was to her, which made her cheeks flush bright red.

Victor took in her expression, his eyes trailing down her face, taking in every feature. His eyes then landed on her slightly parted lips.

He missed everything about her, but in this moment, he missed the soft touch of her lips against his …

He leaned in closer, all self control he had at that moment seemingly lost as their faces were just mere centimeters apart.

She swallowed as her heart fluttered. As much as her heart wanted this, her mind wouldn't allow it.

She turned her head away just as their lips were about to touch

"...We shouldn't.. As much as I want to, it's still painful…"

He frowned, as he pulled away gaining control of himself once again, he looked down. "...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.. I don't know what came over me..."

"It's okay, really… It's just… Hard…"

"I know…"

An awkward silence took over the two of them. Neither of them knew what more to say to one another.

"I should probably get back to Loveland.." He spoke, standing up after a moment in their awkward silence.

She looked at him, her hand reaching out to his. "No! Stay… Please…"

He looked down at her hand that held onto his. Moving his hand to softly lace his fingers with hers, looking at her.

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile. "Y-yeah… I could really use the company… I was just about to put on a movie to watch…"

The corners of his mouth lifted upwards as he let go of her hand, sitting down once again beside her. "Alright, I'll stay. What movie are you thinking of watching?"

She smiled wider as she moved to grab the remote to the TV. "Mm.. I'm not sure honestly… Hmm… How does Beauty and The Beast sound?"

He let out a chuckle, knowing how much she adored that movie. She always loved watching it with him in the time that they were together, "Still love that movie? Even after watching it countless times? I guess some things never change."

Victor lightly teased her, smiling more as she rolled her eyes, pouting playfully at him.

"Of course I do! It's my favorite movie of all time, no matter how many times I watch it, it will always be my favorite. Now are you going to watch it will me or not?"

He looked at her as he laughed softly. "I'll watch it with you."

"Great." She giggled, as she then found the movie, pressing play as the movie began playing. Victor then made himself more comfortable, seeing as he'll be there for quite some time.

However, not even halfway through the movie, Victor feels Cassandra's head rest against his shoulder.

He didn't realize that she made herself comfortable and had curled up at his side. He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he realized she fell asleep.

He smiled, letting out a soft chuckle. "As usual… You always tend to fall asleep at any given time…"

Victor then shifted his hands to wrap around her, as he stood up. Being cautious as to not wake her. He lifted her up into his arms.

Taking her up the stairs and into her bedroom, he gently set her down on the bed, tugging the covers up and over her, making sure she was fully tucked in. He gazed down at her, moving a few strands of hair away from her face. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight Cassie… I love you."

He whispered before standing up straighter, turning to leave.

However a small tug to his shirt sleeve, stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to look at her, her eyes opened as she gazed at him sleepily.

"Stay… Please…"

How could he say no to that? His heart skipped a beat as he nodded. Moving to lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her as she moved to curl up close to him, her eyes fluttering close as her head rested against his chest.

He gently moved his hand to gently stroke her hair, as he often did many nights when they were together. He let out another chuckle as he leaned in to whisper into her ear...

"I'll always be here to stay...Dummy…"

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #mlqc angst #mlqc fluff #victor mlqc

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams V

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,492

Warnings: None

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: This one is probably the one that deviates most from the original prompt. Still I enjoyed writing it a lot, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

This is the end! Thank you for reading and for your patience and I hope you enjoyed!

Zhongli

There was a young man standing in front of you. Standing in sharp contrast to the darkened landscape around him he naturally drew your eye. You stood facing him, making no effort to approach him. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to if you tried.

The morning sunlight burst forth suddenly from behind you eyelids. Blinking heavily you let out a groan, turning over and smashing your face into the nearest pillow, willing yourself to go back to sleep. A familiar chuckle sounded next to you as a kiss was planted on your cheek.

“You cannot evade the day forever my love. There is much to be done.”

“Five more minutes…”

“If I let you sleep five more minutes then it will surely turn into at least an hour. Besides, did you not tell me once that five minutes was hardly any sleep time at all?”

“Maybe.” You grumbled.

Sitting up you shielded your eyes with your hand. Though you appreciated the heavy curtains that kept the light out in the morning, you had to admit the adjustment every day could be difficult. Especially when your dreams had been so muted. What had you been dreaming of again? Random thoughts flower in and out of your head. Sometimes about a dark landscape. And maybe a person? You supposed it didn’t really matter.

Gathering your clothes you strapped your adventuring belt across your waist. Frowning at the weight of one of the bags you reached your hand into the satchel. Your fingers found rough stone, and when pulling the offending object out you found yourself face to face with a sort of mineral you’d never seen before.

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Yes my love?”

“Tell me, have you ever seen this before?”

As you held the crystal out to Zhongli you could swear a flicker of darkness shadowed his eyes. Walking over to take the mineral out of your hand he turned it over gently, an expression of stony focus coating his features.

The crystal seemed to glow slightly. Reddish in hue it seemed to have been shot through with gold, if that was possible of a rock. The rusted red color was opaque, and the features of Zhongli’s hands faded into shadow underneath the mineral. Yet still it seemed almost delicate, the golden glow giving it a sense of fragility that undermined its general heaviness.

“This mineral, it is very strange. It reminds me of something I saw once, long ago, but the makeup is different. I cannot even be sure it is not a combination of various minerals. How very strange.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?” You asked, surprised by the quiet intensity in Zhongli’s words.

“I doubt it very much. Thankfully I doubt that a single odd crystal could shake the foundations of Liyue. Still, it is very strange.” He rolled it over one more time before looking back into your eyes, stare deadly serious. “Do you mind if I keep this for a little while? I promise I shall return it, only there is one thing I wish to enquire after.”

“Of course you can! What’s mine is yours and besides, I don’t have any particular attachment to it. I found it on the ground somewhere.”

“Thank you my love.”

Zhongli leaned over to give you a soft kiss. You sighed happily, glad to be immersed in his proximity. Still a piece of you wondered at the look on his face, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The day passed quietly, with no interesting rock discoveries or sudden natural disasters in sight. You’d almost forgotten about the whole rock deal in fact, too busy with the sudden uptick in geovishaps on the plains of Liyue to think about much else. By the time you arrived home that evening your thoughts were filled with nothing other than some rest and time with the one you loved most.

“I’m home!” You announced loudly, taking your shoes off and hanging your pack in its usual spot.

“Welcome back my love.”

“Did you have a good day?” You called out, walking through the hall into the living room. Zhongli was sitting in his usual chair, back facing away from you. Walking over you leaned forward, kissing his cheek before going to face him.

The expression of quiet worry on Zhongli’s face quickly pulled you out of your reverie. Sitting down on his lap you pushed the hair out of his eyes, examining him for any fatigue.

“Is something wrong? Did Hu Tao give you a hard time?”

“Work was fine my love, do not worry. It is only the gemstone you gave to me, it… it is very strange.”

“Strange how?” You asked, a chill running down your spine.

“Only that it is quite unique, so unique in fact that I have never seen a mineral or crystal formation like it. As I said there was once a mineral similar in nature, but the means to that mineral was long ago destroyed, and the formation was different.”

“Was the other mineral dangerous?”

“Not intrinsically. Nor can I sense any intrinsic danger from this mineral. Still, I think you ought to keep it hidden for some time. Citizens would surely be curious, and until I can be sure that this symbolizes no threat to Liyue I would not speak of it.”

“Did you notify the Qixing?”

“I informed Ningguang about it today. I trust that she will come to a decision in regards to any monitoring by the Qixing. Still, there are a few things I wish to observe.” Glancing up at your face Zhongli softened a bit, smiling slightly. “Do not worry my love, I am sure there is nothing to fear.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” You replied. But the sense of mundane bliss that had coated you was now shattered, and you found threads of anxiety tugging at your brain, threatening to consume your thoughts and lead you down the path of worrying.

The young man was back that night, once more faraway and unapproachable. This time however his hand was stretched out, palm up, as if waiting for something.

“What do you want?” You called out. There was no reply.

Suddenly the side of your nightdress grew heavy. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out the gemstone, shining faintly in the dark.

“This? What is it?”

The young man smiled, eyes glinting.

“That is the truth?”

You blinked, eyes useless in the dark that still enveloped the world. What time was it? You lay on your back, listening to the soft sighs of your partner, the noise mixing with the soft sound of birds chirping; soon it would be daytime. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You’d been dreaming about something, what was it? It was somehow familiar, as if you’d dreamt it before, though surely it wasn’t a normal recurring dream, as you couldn’t seem to remember it. Still, it had made you uneasy, though you weren’t sure why.

Rolling over to face your partner you closed your eyes. No use thinking about it now. What you couldn’t remember you couldn’t remember. Besides, all you wanted to do was sleep.

The morning came far too soon, and with it the knowledge of a busy day that stretched out before you. Blinking away your fatigue you kissed Zhongli an absentminded goodbye before dragging yourself out the door. Collecting your commissions with equal sluggishness you ignored the stares from other Guild members, the quiet concern of Katheryne as she asked if you had slept alright.

Thankfully the day was gorgeous and the workload relatively light. Leaning against a rock, letting the grass of the Liyue plains tickle your hand you stared up at the blue sky. Absentmindedly you wondered again about the dream. What had it been about? Closing your eyes you tried to call it back. The lazy afternoon sun shined down upon you. Soon you found your thoughts melding together and before you knew it you slipped off into sleep.

There was a young man standing in front of you, eyes stony, smile superficial. You glanced around, confused by the black landscape in which you found yourself. This must be a dream. And yet it seemed so familiar that you were sure you’d dreamt this before.

“What do you want?” You called out. Something flickered in your memory. The gemstone, and the fact this young man had reached out for it.

“The truth.” The young man’s smile grew wider, somehow distorted and foreboding.

“What do you mean by the truth?”

“The truth that they wish to hide. The truth that only they can speak.”

“Who do you mean by that?” You felt panic rising as the dream weighed heavy on you. “What do you mean?”

But the young man said nothing. He merely smiled. Suddenly the black seemed to shatter like glass, falling onto your head and drowning you in pitch.

You lurched forward, breath harsh in your lungs. Standing up you glanced around wildly. That dream, what had that dream been? Searching your pockets you stopped, realizing that Zhongli had never given the crystal back. The memory of your dream, combined with the knowledge that the subject must’ve been the same as the one the previous night, left you stunned. More than shock however you felt panic, pure panic at what you’d just experienced. What did that young man mean? What did he want?

You picked up your equipment, not bothering to organize anything. Making your way down the slopes, the nearest waypoint over the crest of a rocky hill, you could think of only one thing. Zhongli, you had to tell Zhongli. Only he could tell you the answers, only he could stop this panic from consuming you. Looking up at the still blue sky you found yourself releasing a prayer into the wind. Please let everything be alright, please let nothing come crashing down.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was a surprisingly comfortable space, decorated to match the appearance of a tea room rather than a place where the dead were prepared for their final departure. Normally you appreciated this strangely homey atmosphere, so eagerly and carefully cultivated by Hu Tao. Today, however, you felt only urgency. Making your way down the familiar corridors you yanked the door to Zhongli’s office open, praying that he would be inside.

The sight of your love at work was always compelling. Though seriousness and concentration marked his features, the quiet passion for history and tradition could also be seen, softening his gaze and turning what might have been an unapproachable figure into one of surprising comfort. Glancing up at the sound of the door Zhongli smiled softly; a smile that quickly morphed into a frown as he took in your agitated state.

“My love, what is wrong?”

Zhongli stood up, making his way over to you. Dropping your equipment on the floor you launched yourself into his arms. Breathing in his comforting presence you felt your heartrate slow slightly, the shaking you hadn’t even been aware of subsiding.

“Are you alright?” Zhongli’s voice was soft and full of worry.

“I, I don’t know,” you took in a shaky breath, relaxing as Zhongli wrapped his arms around your waist, “I fell asleep while on a break and I dreamt something very, strange.”

Recounting the dream you watched as Zhongli’s eyes darkened. When you were done he pulled you into a tight hug. Carding his fingers through your hair you felt his arms tighten around you, a silent affirmation of his worry.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmured into his shoulder, “I know it’s just a dream, but it seems so real, so frightening.”

“It will be alright my love. I promise, nothing ill will come to you, or to the people of Liyue.”

“I wonder what he meant,” you shivered slightly, “I wonder who he meant by ‘they’.”

You weren’t sure if you’d truly felt Zhongli freeze for a moment, so focused were you on the emotions that roiled inside your heart.

The young man seemed angrier than he had previously. Glaring at you from across the darkened landscape he shook his head in what seemed to be disgust.

“You didn’t confront him about it.”

“Confront who?” You asked, defensiveness mixing with the panic welling up once more inside of you.

“The hypocrite. The one who claims to love humans while crushing them under his heel.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You do! You’re simply a traitor. You betrayed me, you betrayed the rest of our family. You’ve cursed yourself.”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone!” You heard the pitch of your voice rising. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You could’ve made us so happy. You could’ve continued our legacy. Instead your cursed us, instead you cursed yourself. You’re just like them, you’re just like the people who killed us!”

You jolted awake, gasping as you threw the coverlet off you, the heat oppressive and sticky against your sweat drenched skin. Sitting up you forced air into your lungs, breathing in and out, trying to match your rhythm with Zhongli’s, who slept quietly next to you. Gazing down at him you turned the words of your dream back over in your head. “You’re simply a traitor… You’ve cursed yourself.” The words were vague, but you felt a cold sensation creep over you, the unspoken sound of pieces fitting into place and fear clouding your mind.

The next day you could barely drag yourself out of bed, having spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor as thoughts raced through your head. Though you were sure Zhongli had asked you about your current state you couldn’t truly remember any conversation, and the trip to the Guild seemed longer than usual as you found yourself making wrong turns and bumping into various walls.

The commissions of the day certainly didn’t help. Ordered to chase a few Fatui members out of Liyue, or at least stop them from attacking every adventurer in the City, you felt your stomach dropped as you realized the location was that of where you’d found the fateful stone. Climbing over mountain ridges and dodging the occasional hilichurls camp you felt your limbs dragging underneath you. Though there couldn’t have been more than a few meters between you and the Fatui members it felt as if there were actually miles.

The situation only got worse when you finally scaled the last crest, pulling yourself up before two Hydro Legionnaires and an Anemo Vanguard. Summoning your claymore you felt as if your weapon had gotten heavier, and your steps were awkward and unsure as you charged the all too prepared Fatui members.

You swings sliced through the air as if it were made of gel, your steps stumbling and unsure. The Skirmishers dodged your strikes easily, laughing openly and jeering at you to make another dive towards them. You ignored their taunts, trying to focus on your breathing, on keeping your steps uniform and controlled. Still you knew that you were in over your head. You didn’t know what was going to happen, regretted that you hadn’t asked for help or simply requested a day off. Now however you were stuck, locked into a battle you knew you were going to lose.

Eventually the Anemo seemed to tired of your exhausted movements. Running up towards you, you felt your lungs burn as air rammed straight into your chest. Teetering on the edge of the mountain you felt yourself fall backwards. Seeing the sky above you, you let yourself scream. How could you have been so careless? How could you have failed so quickly? Closing your eyes you wished that you might faint. Whatever was at the bottom of this fall, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

However just as soon as your eyes closed you felt your fall broken. Snapping your eyes open you were met with the sight of Zhongli, face stony, eyes glowing preternaturally. Floating down softly he deposited you on a grass ridge of the mountain. Saying nothing he seemed to float upward into the air, aiming right towards where the Fatui were gathered. Sighing you closed your eyes once more, stilling the emotions that swirled inside you, the knowledge that you may have just escaped serious injury or worse. Slumping forward you felt tears at the edges of your eyes. You were tired. You were oh so tired.

“Are you hurt?” Zhongli’s voice was soothing, even in its urgency.

“I’m fine,” you opened your eyes to gaze up at your partner who crouched before you, “I’m just shaken.”

“I should have paid more attention to your physical state this morning,” Zhongli frowned, his smooth features contrasting the emotions that roiled in his eyes, “if I had not been here you may have died.”

“But you were here. Why?”

“This place, it was once a very important place of trade. I returned here to see if there were any lingering traces of that trade, those contracts. It is where I saw the ore that is mimicked in the mineral you found.”

“I see.” You paused, unsure if you wanted your next words released into the world. “Zhongli?”

“Yes my love?”

“The tyrant that boy in my dream mentioned, is that you?”

Zhongli was silent for some time, his deepening frown the only indication he had heard you. Finally he sighed. Sitting down next to you he gazed out onto the landscape, surveying it as he must’ve done all those years as Rex Lapis.

“The place that I mentioned, the origin of the ore from which yours takes its likeness, was a kingdom unlike the Seven which now dominate Teyvat. It was created only by humans, untouched by the hands of a god or higher being. It dabble in alchemy, created stones that could not be found anywhere else. And then, long ago, it was razed to the ground.”

“By who?”

“By the seven archons.” Zhongli’s features were still, his eyes giving away no tangible emotion, no sense of loss or satisfaction or hate.

“I see.”

“The people of the land scattered. Yet some would not forget the destruction of their kingdom. They banded together, creating the Abyss. They hold the old artifacts of their city dear, the prospect of revenge even more so. Their hatred of the Seven runs deep.”

“And the young man who is in my dreams is part of the Abyss?”

“It appears to be that way. Yet there is something about your descriptions, about the stone. The Abyss has never before been able to manipulate people’s dreams. There is something about that young man that is foreign even to them.”

“Yet he must believe in the Abyss very deeply.” You remarked.

“Indeed.”

Zhongli said nothing more, simply continuing to look out over the mountain. You wondered if he held any regrets for the place he destroyed, if he wondered what might come to pass should Liyue be subject to such a thing. Yet you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him. Somehow you knew, the wounds that he already carried would be little helped by your words.

“Thank you for telling me.” You leaned over to lay your hand over your partner. Finally breaking his stare Zhongli gazed at you, face still as ever, eyes tinged with an ancient melancholy.

“I hope I have not betrayed you, or the contract of our trust.”

“How could it be a betrayal if I never asked or knew about it?” You leaned over to press a soft kiss on Zhongli’s forehead. “I’m only glad you told me now.”

The ex-archon’s frame seemed to relax a little. Leaning over he cupped your cheek, brushing his lips softly against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“What will you do now?”

“I’m not sure. Hope that whoever he was, that young man has given up on me I guess.”

“I hope you do not feel as if you have betrayed someone.”

“How can I feel betrayal for someone that I don’t know or don’t remember?” You shook your head. “I don’t know what that person is looking for, or what he expects of me. I do know you however, and what I do know is that if loving you has made me a traitor of something, so be it.”

Zhongli’s smile was one that reached his eyes, enveloping you in a silent warmth. As the two of you leaned against one another, gazing out upon the landscape shadowed in the afternoon sun, you let yourself finally relax. Questions still sifted through your head, but you let them fall through your consciousness, like sand through your fingers. You didn’t know whether Zhongli felt regret for what he did, whether or not he felt justified in the destruction he participated in. What you did know however was that you loved him.

And for now that was enough.

#genshin impact fanfiction #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #requested #scenarios #my writing

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Epilogue

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The first couple of weeks following the incident that had taken my long-lost mother from me was misery in its purest form. Link and I didn’t speak, not even by phone, during that whole stretch of time. In fact, I could rarely bring myself to answer the phone at all. The memory was still too vivid, the wounds still too fresh.

He’d gotten off scot-free in the end as he’d been deemed to have acted in the defence of others—namely, of me. It wasn’t long before I learned of his plea, that if I hadn’t come along quietly, I would have suffered the same fate that he’d brought upon her, and they had believed him. How I felt about this was still something I was struggling to wrap my endlessly pounding head around.

As dark and deep as this seemingly bottomless pit of despair that I’d found myself plummeting down was, however, someone did eventually toss a rope down for me. The time I spent apart from Link gave me the opportunity to properly reconcile with those whom I myself had wronged: Auntie Purah and Paya. The former and I found comfort in our mutual grieving, and even as Paya had never really known my mother well enough to mourn her loss (though, arguably, it seemed no one had ever truly known her), she was more gracious and understanding than I or anyone else would have been, which only made me regret even more deeply my past transgressions toward her.

One day, during one of our continual conversations, she shifted to the topic of the Yiga leader’s executioner. How she could even think of him at a time like this was beyond me, but I digressed. I told her everything from start to finish. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to talk to anyone about it at length. As I spoke, she listened calmly and carefully. Despite what I’d have liked to believe, she had always been the more levelheaded one out of the two of us, save for when it came to discussing things about herself.

By the time I finished, I’d begun bouncing my still healing ankle back and forth, which I’d crossed over my other leg to keep it from touching the ground. I didn’t stop even after I noticed what I was doing.

“It’s painfully clear to see how conflicted you are about all this.” Coming to sit beside me on the sofa in the Sheikahs’ sitting room, Paya placed an affectionate palm on my thigh, bringing its restless jittering to a halt. “I understand how hard this must be for you. But the way I see it, there’s only one question you need ask yourself at the end of the day.”

Whatever she was about to say, it wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, would it? I straightened my posture. “And what would that be?”

“Between the two of them, who do you think was the better person?”

She was looking me dead in the eyes, her hand still resting upon my leg. I uncrossed them.

I’d never thought to compare the two before. What reason would I have had to do so? But now that she’d mentioned it, I hadn’t realized how few memories I even had left of my mother, and the ones that remained were blurry and vague beyond any hope of being recovered. If only she hadn’t left me with the Sheikahs all those years ago, maybe I could have remembered more clearly what kind of person she had been.

On the other hand, Link had always been there for me. Even during the times when circumstances had driven us apart, the thought of him was what had kept my flame burning strong and hot throughout each arctic day, and what had protected me from myself, keeping me from doing the irreparable. He had stayed by my side to the bitter end.

No matter how I’d reflected back on that day previously, the sight of his steely, focused stare and the sound of his crazed breaths, short and sharp, had been ever dominant. But now, I recalled the way those eyes had then glazed over with unadulterated horror. How his arms had shivered as they’d clung to my broken form and how they’d continue to cling for what would feel like millennia until the rest of his unit would finally stumble upon the scene.

My stepsister-of-sorts gave my leg a soft squeeze as I looked back at her with a tremor in my lip. “He s...saved me,” I whimpered. “Didn’t he?”

After a month apart, I made plans with Link for a night out on the pier, where we would celebrate the end of the Organization. The ice cream I’d promised him was at the top of my list of priorities for the evening. Tonight was a dessert-first night anyway, I’d decided. From there, we went and found ourselves a bite to eat at a seafood restaurant within walking distance. I’d hoped eating with him would feel like old times, but he hardly spoke a word throughout the whole meal. I tried lightening the mood with some banter, but this proved ineffective when he brushed off everything I said with mere one or two-word replies.

It wasn’t until I’d gotten us both a bit of something to drink that he finally broke the silence. “Have you...” he started, but lost the confidence to continue.

I perked up at the sound of his voice, wanting to hear more of it. “Have I...?”

“A-Ah...” His fingers poked at the copious amount of chips piled onto his plate next to the practically untouched fillet of fried fish. “I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what you’re going to do now, since...you know...you’re not a detective anymore.”

“Ah, right. That.” I took another sip of my drink, its contents long having fled my memory. “Actually, my auntie talked about it with me and she said she’d consider letting me inherit the company once I’ve acquired the proper education. So to answer your question, I’m thinking about going to school for engineering.”

His brows rose. “Oh! My, that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s brilliant. I’m happy for you.”

I thanked him with a hesitant grin, then asked, “How about you? Do you plan to stay on with the force, or...?”

“Ahh, well...” What little there’d been of an upward turn in his lips vanished. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It’s something I’ve been mulling over for a while now. Whether to stay on and honour my father’s work, or...whatever other options are available, I suppose.”

“Do you want to hear what I think?” He raised his head. “I think you should do whatever you think would make you happiest. That’s what you’re father would have wanted, I’m sure.”

This finally, finally, got a real, unsubdued smile out of him. And I intended to milk that smile for all it was worth.

After dinner, I dragged him back down to the arcade on the pier, where I managed to ring a few laughs out of him while we were still a bit tipsy. We steered clear of the toy gun target-type games, favouring other stands like the ring toss where he won me a plush frog that I could only just get my arms all the way around. His aim was spectacular, especially for someone who wasn’t entirely sober. Not only that, but I could never have imagined how sweet and charming he would be like this. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we’d gone back in time again. That, or the light from the setting sun was playing tricks on me.

But by the end of the evening, he’d reverted back to that quiet, reclusive version of himself that I’d quickly grown to detest. We were out on the docks now, facing the sea. The breeze carried a mist of saltwater within its bows. I breathed it in, soaking up the feeling of it hitting me softly and coolly in the face. A hint of pink in my partner’s cheeks caught my eye, and I wondered whether it was the cocktails or my arms, which were currently wound about his waist from behind.

“Beautiful sunset,” I tried, hoping I could get him to spare me a glance at least. “Isn’t it?” But to no avail. He only continued to gaze westward at the rippling flames reflected in the water. “Hey...” Before I knew what I was doing, my palm had found the warmth of his cheek, and there was hardly an inch or two of distance between the tips of our noses. Without giving myself time to think, I tilted my head, leaned in, and started to close my eyes.

But when I realized he wasn’t doing the same, I halted. On the contrary, he’d been leaning back and away from my advances, his back so rigid and shoulders so stiff it were as though he would sprout wings and bolt were I to make any sudden moves.

“What’s wrong?”

A harsh, jagged exhale. “Zelda, I just can’t—” He grabbed both my wrists and wrenched my arms off of him. “I’m sorry. We can’t do this.” He was bent over the railing, arms folded in on each other. “Not now,” he said, dwindling, “after I’ve gone and...murdered your only family.” A weary chuckle shook him by the shoulders before he raked his hands through his wind-tousled hair.

I fell into quiet thought for a moment. Then, taking a long, thorough breath, I placed a feather-light set of fingertips atop his own. “That woman was never my family.” I’d made up my mind. Figuratively or otherwise, my real mother had moved on a long time ago. And it was time I did the same.

Link must have seen the resolve in my eyes or heard it in my voice, because now he was looking back at me openly, his body turned to face me. Though there was still an air of uncertainty lingering about him as he ran the crease of his cuff between his fingers again and again. But when I brought my arms around him and held him close, he sank into my lips, returning my embrace at long last. A lone pair of tears fell from my eyes the moment they fluttered closed—a culmination of all past ordeals—and as they fell, I couldn’t help but smile.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelda pov #detective au

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Text

summary: be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. and the only thing you can do is not give them the chance to do so.

pairing: nishinoya x reader

warnings: mentions of depression

words: 1.2k

notes: i really loved writing this one c: thank you @tmkki for reading this and giving your opinion <333

Sometimes I close my eyes and I see her. My mom sitting on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as she rips apart photographs where my dad appears. Loud music is playing and now I think maybe that’s why I don’t like harsh noise. I approach her and she yells at me to leave her alone. She tells me I look like him and I wonder if I still do. It’s been twelve years since then, but every time I look at the mirror I wonder if I have the face of the first man that hurt me.

“Don’t trust men,” she cries, as I bring her a painkiller and a glass of water. “They will rip your heart apart.”

“I won’t,” I promise, and I spent the next years doing just that. Whenever someone would smile at me, I always closed my eyes and went back to that moment. The nauseating ring on my ears from the loud music, the ripped photographs scattered on the floor and the image of my mother crawling into bed every day with a bottle of wine and a lost look in her eyes.

Be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. And the only thing you can do is not give them the chance to do so.

ii.

His existence was like the sun.

Every morning he entered the classroom, he shared his warmth and brought light from within his eyes. It was almost terrifying how much he shone, to the point that I thought he could burn me if I dared to touch him with my cold hands. Nishinoya always laughed with his mouth wide open and his eyes closed, never caring if anyone was watching, just basking in his own happiness and glee. I believed he truly never questioned himself, always talking as if he wasn’t afraid of saying something wrong, as if he was so sure of himself no one could bring him down.

Just like the sun, I settled with watching him from afar, hoping his warmth would reach me. I searched for his light on my dark days, chuckling as I saw him prank his friends and listening intently when he spoke passionately about volleyball.

I had always thought he was good on the eyes but never expected him to look as beautiful as he did the first time I contemplated him talking about serving. The way his cheeks were flushed and his words tumbled with each other, I could have stared for hours. His grin became wider, his brown eyes became golden and for those few moments, I forgot about the dark clouds hanging over my head.

I wondered what loving as intensely as he did felt.

iii.

Nishinoya barged in front of my desk on a Tuesday morning of our first high school year, trying to catch his breath as he explained he was about to be banned from the volleyball team if he didn’t ace the exam we had on Friday. He claimed his friend had told him I was smart, and a vague memory of me handing out my notes to said friend came to my mind.

He continued rambling for several more minutes, stressing the importance of the match was and how he didn’t know what else to do. It took him to stare at me arching his right eyebrow for me to register I had been quiet the whole time. I nodded and tried to smile, hating how unfamiliar it felt on my face. Thankfully, Nishinoya’s smile outshone mine and before I knew it, he was making arrangements for us to meet after his volleyball practice.

And for a moment, I forgot. I forgot about the eviction notices, I forgot about the sleepless nights and the constant headaches. As I swam into his chocolate eyes, my mind was only filled with the sound of an unknown tune that filled my heart with peace. He thanked me once again for agreeing to help him with the exam, as if I ever had the chance to deny his warmth.

He left with a smile and I felt hungry for the first time in the week.

iv.

If he ever saw the empty wine bottles near the trash bin, he never commented on it. He also made his case to never question why my room always looked like I had just cleaned it, a sharp contrast with the dull mess of the rest of the house. Not once did he ask about the bags under my eyes or the days I missed school. When getting out of bed was more than I could handle, getting notified with a text message from him wishing me to get better soon always brought a smile to my face.

All I knew was that every time I leaned on the opened gym’s door frame during one of his practice matches, he always kept his unspoken promise of walking me home after he was done. I can still remember his stories, one after the other without a pause, never failing in making me look at him in awe. He would always make convincing arguments to take detours to get some food, my mood improving after having my first meal of the day. No matter what we did during those walks, the one thing that never wavered was the huge smile on his face as he said goodbye.

I always asked myself if he somehow knew. If, by any chance, he could tell it was raining on me on those days. He must have known he couldn’t stop it, but always did his best to make sure I danced a little in the rain, even if it was just for the short while it took us to get to my house.

The night came and the sun had to set.

It had been three years since we had met, but time always feels so short when someone has to say goodbye. Nishinoya had mentioned his desire to discover the world and experience everything life had to offer, so it was natural for him to set on a long trip just after graduation. He was so enthusiastic about it I couldn’t help but find solace in my own turmoil of emotions. For a usually impulsive person, he had his bag packed for a week before he actually had to leave. I still remember how he bounced up and down as he told me about it the last afternoon we spent together, and I wished he would keep his smile forever.

Was it selfish of me to not want the sun to be taken away? Was it delusional to even call him that? I touched my arms seeking the warmth he left after his last hug but it was long gone. He had promised to send a postcard, and even if I knew I would treasure it, I also understood I shouldn’t cling to it. My heart knew that was the last time I would ever see him. And it was okay. Some people aren’t meant to stay.

Be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. But, if you got to be truly happy by their side, you will always be thankful you gave them the chance to do so.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #hq nishinoya #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya yuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #nishinoya oneshot #nishinoya

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

coward | s.u.

y/n, bold and beautiful, is now second guessing herself when she finds herself skinny dipping with stan uris

word count: 2.5k

warnings/included: fluff, steamy-ish, exhibitionism, fem!reader

request: (from anon) “could i have a request where the reader is v v v flirty with stan and one day he says something really dirty even richie's shocked. it’s fine if not.”

a/n: i accidentally changed it bc i misread ur request im so so sorry !!! also if u noticed i haven’t written in awhile it’s bc my classes started up again so fics may take more time to write/post -- hope u understand <3

What came out of y/n’s mouth next truly shocked Stanley.

“Wanna go skinny dipping?” It wasn’t far off from whatever usually spewed from her mouth that she and the rest of the Losers had a hard time controlling.

His mind flashed to all the times y/n’s hand grazed his: the light touches, the silent stares, the whispers that tickled his ears and kissed his brain.

“Next year for Halloween, you should be Stan without a shirt.”

The hearts she drew on his notebook when he wasn’t looking, the hand she held in hers, the what-are-we’s before giggling in his wonderstruck face that she was joking; it was all a sign of want that he’d been too dense to see before.

“You’re great, you know. Great at being an asshole.”

Sweet, mischievous y/n; always blunt, always careless of what others thought of her. It never occurred to Stan of what she thought of him.

Richie was the first to speak up, Stan still having to catch his breath from the promiscuous words that left her mouth seconds ago. “Sure, toots, I’d love to see what’s under that suit of yours. God, you don’t know how much I hate that thing.” He laughed and Stan wanted to beat the shit-eating grin off his shit-eating friend. His jaw, pronounced and square, tightened and Richie saw. “On second thought, I think someone else would enjoy the view way more.”

Another laugh came from the group, but it wasn’t from Richie. It was y/n’s. The soft giggle leaving her luscious lips did nothing to calm Stan.

“Are you jealous, Stanley?” She asked. A smirk sat on her lips. She only called him by his full name when she teased him.

He definitely felt like he was being thrown a bone only to find out the pitcher never threw one right now.

“Of course not.” Stan gave her the side-eye, readjusting his position from the rock he sat on while doing so. “I can’t think of any situation where I’d be jealous of Richie.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie challenged and Stan squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

“I can think of one—multiple, actually.” Richie wore the same smirk as y/n—only his was less digestible. Maybe it was because y/n was less insufferable to be around, or because she didn’t take a crack at his religion every chance she had, or because her hair was soft and shiny on her head and something Stan wished he could run his hands through. Maybe it was because y/n was a girl, or because she was pretty and the way she batted her eyelashes made him see stars even in the sunlight.

“When?”

Richie leaned in and whispered something that was totally vulgar and jarring to Stan’s ears.

Stan flinched—unsurprised that his friend was ballsy enough to say such a thing, but because what if he had actually thought about doing such a thing?

“Gross, Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” Bill yelled from across the quarry, already knowing what his friend would say.

“Yeah. You’re disgusting,” Eddie said from next to him while he looked up at Bill.

“Ruh-lax. It’s not like it’s something I’m gonna do.” Richie opened a new can of Keystone Light next to his already half-drunken one. “I got freedom of thoughts though, right?” He winked and Ben rolled his eyes.

“If you already have a drink open you should finish it,” Stan instructed, ignoring the subject at hand.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” y/n sounded closer than she was before. Her arm brushed up against his and he thought she was about to hold his hand until her fingers grazed just past his to grab his can of beer. She took a sip. “Besides, it all ends up somewhere.”

She could be so careless with her actions. But this was the same girl who made sure paper and plastic went to recycling, the total opposite of Stan, a total enigma.

“I just think, if you want another one, you should finish the one you already have.” Stan explained himself clearly and concisely. It was something y/n always admired. She never got tired of hearing him talk—she could listen to him talk for hours on end.

“Whatever.” Her eyes rolled so far he’d thought they’d get stuck. “I’m going home. “Later, Losers.”

“Wuh-what about the sk-skinny dipping?” Bill asked and Ben elbowed him. He wasn’t yet comfortable in his body, though he had been on Derry High’s track team for a year and a half and lost a fair amount of weight (twenty-two pounds), he still wasn’t comfortable in his own skin (he didn’t think he’d ever be)—even around his best friends—friends he considered family.

“We can do it tomorrow.” y/n shrugged. “Sound good to you, Stanley?” Her eyes were only focused on him and Stan knew that. They glowered under the sun’s harsh rays and fixated on his figure.

“I don’t know.” Stan tried to sound as monotone as possible. “Maybe you should be asking Richie instead.”

At that, y/n smiled, leaving the rest of the group confused as she walked away.

“Duh-dude!” What wuh-was that?” Bill wondered aloud, astounded how y/n had him wrapped around her finger—or maybe it was the other way around.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Stan said, holding the same shock in his voice.

“Are you and y/n like—”

“No!” The sharpness of Stan’s tongue cut Ben off quickly with a harsh glare he’d later apologize for. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t want something with y/n. Another lie, that Stan would keep to himself, would be that he didn’t anticipate the events that were to come for tomorrow…

“Hey, stranger!” It was y/n from down below. She was already wading in the water—waiting for him, presumably.

“Hey, y/n/n.” He started for the long way down, not caring to cannon-ball ten feet down from the cliff of the quarry today. “Where’s Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben and—”

“—and Richie?” A beam shot across y/n’s face as soon as Stan met her eye line.

“And Richie,” Stan mumbled. That was the only thing he’d been worried about. Although he knew there was nothing about his trashmouth friend to worry about. But it was always best to stay skeptical.

“I told them not to come.” y/n said this with such nonchalance—such grace as she tilted her head into the water and drifted back, letting the water carry her away as if she were weightless.

“Why,” Stan asked, though it came out as more of a demand.

“Because.” y/n shrugged, but you couldn’t really shrug while you were trying to stay afloat. He noticed that her eyes were closed, and her bathing suit was still on. Maybe she was lying about skinny dipping and he had worked himself up last night over nothing. y/n was like that—making promises she never intended to fulfill. If it weren’t for y/n being, well, y/n, Stan might’ve been annoyed at her antics. But he wasn’t—far from it, even. He was infatuated with her being—clothed or not, enraptured with how sunshine she could be one hour and rain she could be the next.

Math and English were an easy feat—but trying to understand y/n was like trying to learn Mandarin blind and deaf.

Her curves spilled from the bikini bottoms that hugged her butt and the matching top she wore hugged her bust exceptionally. The bikini’s scandalous red color harmonized with y/n’s skin tone well and Stan couldn’t imagine her in anything else at the moment. He didn’t want to imagine her in anything else.

“Are you gonna get in?” Her presence startled him as she was quick to swim up to the rocks. “Or are you scared?” A sly smile splayed across her pink lips and Stan mirrored her.

“I’m scared?” He scoffed. “You were the one who said we were going skinny dipping.” He stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his pale, yet toned, chest. “Guess who’s not undressed.”

“You?” y/n guessed; the innocent tone surprising on her tongue. She had inadvertently licked her lips at the answer and Stan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth due to the action.

“No. You.”

“My bad.” A giggle escaped her bitten lips and y/n began to unclip the back of her bikini. “Is that better now?” The straps fell loose against her arms, but the top stayed covering her breasts.

Stan didn’t say anything.

“What if I…” y/n didn’t finish her sentence. Silently, she fully removed the straps from her arms and the contraption left her bodice.

“Christ,” Stan seethed out, but he wasn’t gentlemen enough to look away from the sight on display before him: y/n treading the shallow water that was crystal clear thanks to Mr. Sun that shone down on this part of town, giving Stan an eyeful.

“Don’t say his name in vain.” She had now slipped the bottoms off and Stan didn’t know what to do with himself. Get undressed, I guess.

His pants were the next to go as Stanley undid his brown leather belt that held his too-big khaki shorts together. His waistline had shrunk due to baseball season’s quick start. And although it was only early March, the heat had picked up fast in this small town they called home and Stan could feel himself already itching to feel the water on his sweat-stricken skin.

“What are you waiting for?” y/n called from below. She was growing impatient, but who could blame her?

Stan stood above her in only his underwear. If the rest of the student body was here, he would’ve been living out his nightmare—stripped to the bone with an audience to gawk at him. But only y/n was here to witness the grey Calvin Kleins that hugged his thighs and rather than a nightmare, this felt more like a daydream.

“Are you shy?” She teased. “C’mon, Stanny, there’s no need to be—”

“Shy my ass,” Stan interjected as he relieved himself of the last piece of clothing and jumped into the water all in a quick movement.

“Glad you could finally make it, slowpoke.” y/n splashed his face, disregarding his lack of clothes—both of their lack of clothes—but Stan couldn’t help but admire y/n’s skin that the water had already kissed and glowed under the flash of the sun.

He’d never seen her in such a state before. In fact, he’d never intended to. But this was worth it—even if it were the only time, he knew he’d have this memory burned into his skull forever the same way the sun would burn his skin the next day because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Since when does Stanley Uris forget to apply sunscreen?

“It’s rude to stare,” y/n deadpanned, but Stan couldn’t help it. How could he not take his eyes off her tan lines from up close and the divot of her collarbone? The way her hair slicked back from the water and the pout of her lips was all too tempting to not want to consume. Stan Uris would be an idiot to not stare. A polite idiot.

“You make it hard.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she knew she wasn’t sporting a sunburn. y/n never burned. “Oh. Well, in that case, stare as much as you want.”

“Gladly.”

y/n was quiet now—a rare event, but it gave Stan an opportunity he’d never thought he’d get or go for.

He swam closer, the stroke of his arms creating rifts in the water and y/n shivered at the feeling of the coldness that hit her chest each time he got closer.

It was strange seeing him up close—in such an intimate setting. As big of a crush y/n harbored on the boy, it’s not like she did anything about it. A few remarks there, a few remarks there. This was the furthest they’ve ever gotten. Maybe a little too far now that she was considering it more closely. Since when did first base turn into skinny dipping in the quarry?

Before her thoughts could leave her second-guessing anymore, y/n felt her lips on someone else’s. They were pressed together firmly and tightly. She held her breath as if she were underwater, but her heart prevailed, only picking up at a speed she’d only feel when she caught him looking at her or when he laughed at her jokes.

The kiss was powerful and all she needed. If this were the last time they’d ever see each other again, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have that kiss to cherish. Maybe she’d long for one in the future. Just one more. But this kiss left her knowing that this skinny-dipping idea wasn’t so bad after all.

His lips were soft and tickled as he pulled apart to catch a breath. y/n’s eyes opened to find Stan’s pupils were wide and lustblown. She stood still in the water, amazed that anyone could feel that way about her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Stan—”

“What?” Stan asked, eager and anxious for the words meant for him.

“This is embarrassing but.. I like you.” The words were bold and packed with courage—not far from the regular way y/n spoke, but this was different. It had a certain bite to it that Stan couldn’t quite taste.

“Are you embarrassed because you like me or are you embarrassed because you’re confessing to me without any clothes on?” Before Stan’s eyes could rake down to y/n’s body once more, a splash of water hit his face—cold and abrupt. His eyelids slammed at the impact and he flinched.

“You’re such a perv.” y/n scoffed as if she had forgotten her deepest secret had just spilled from her lips in front of the boy the secret was about. Secret. Don’t act like it wasn’t as obvious as a fat kid scarfing down their third brownie in the first place—

“You know if it’s any more embarrassing… I like you, too,” Stan said. He felt winded after saying it. His chest felt heavy and his toes dug into the sand in order to keep him from falling headfirst into the water. It was so easy for y/n. Brave, crass y/n who swore like a sailor yet had the face of a doll.

Stan’s train of thought was lost at the feeling of y/n’s body pressed against his. He’d forgotten they were both bare-assed and exposed for all of Derry to see because the warmth of y/n was all too much. His heart jumped out of his chest sixty miles a minute and the muscles under his arms were now stones. Stan didn’t recognize that her lips were on his until her tongue swiped his bottom one for access in which he granted.

Teeth clashed and tongues danced. It was a hot minute until y/n pulled away with a cheeky smile and lingering fingers on his collarbone that made Stan hold his breath.

“That was hot,” he heaved, finally cutting the silence between them. Of course, the birds still chirped and the water around them never stopped flowing. But the world just seemed to stop whenever Stan stepped foot into y/n’s intoxicating proximity.

“Hell yeah, it was.” One arm was still strewn around his neck while her free hand traced code on his shoulder.

Nothing else was said. Nothing had to be said. But Stan was sure of one thing; that y/n was no coward.

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

“Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

“Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

“Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

“That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

“A μ.”

“No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

The whole room goes silent.

Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

“They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

“And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

“Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

“Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

“Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

“I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

“You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #andrew x neil #neil x andrew #andrew/neil #neil/andrew

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

This is Chapter 6 (is everyone still counting)

Link to the beginning here

Prev (V - Alex)

Next (VII - Alex)

Reviews and comments appreciated as I would like to grow as a writer

Content Warning ⚠️ below chapter title as to avoid spoilers (if anybody cares about being spoiled)

VI - Samantha

CONTENT WARNING : Kidnapping, Mind Control and Being bound and gagged.

Her back leaned against the cold stone wall sending a jolt of shivers across her body. She wriggled around, trying to move but despite not being bound ang gagged, she couldn't talk.

She found herself in an empty room, an interrogation table with a swinging lightbulb at the center ominously matching its swing with the thunping of her heart. No one was pushing it but instead of swinging slowly like it should be, it went faster and faster along with her heart.

She blinked. Maxine sat across the chair behind the interrogation table. Eyes and mouth covered, her expression almost lifeless. She tried to call out her name but no voice came out. She blinked again. Two shady men with heavy thumping boots marched toward her. Their steps matching along with the heartbeat and the swing of the lightbulb.

She closed her eyes permanently praying this will all be over soon. Afraid that when she opened her eyes another set of horrors would appear.

"You're safe here." a faint male voice echoed against the room, lighting up the whole area. She peeked slowly as the room was now well lit, she saw the abductors run away from the light, bringing Maxine with them. She tried to scream out her name one last time but she was slowly being guided by what seemed to be polica authorities back to safety.

"We'll get her back soon. Don't worry." She remembered Alex telling her that before she slept. She couldn't trust a normal person to say that to her so she starts to doubt the credibility of this man.

Samantha took a deep breath as she slowly came back to her senses. It smelled quite odd which made her whiff again. It's way too far from Maxine's shampoo or cologne, it almost smelled...

Manly.

That's when she remembered. Her eyes quickly opened to the view of a bare chest followed by a very well carved set of abs and her thighs just below it. Her heart raced once again as she slowly tilted her head up to look at the man whom she was leaning to.

It was Alex. He looked peacefully asleep, his arms bent behind his bed showing off the colored tattoes covering his biceps. A soft snore escapes his mouth as her head starts to feel the rising and falling of his chest.

She can't believe the circumstances she found herself in, shaking her head in disagreement, slowly moving away from him in an attempt to not wake him up. 'Really Samantha. You didn't even let him wear anything?!' she said to herself in shame as she slowly steps out of his apartment. Mentally apologizing for stealing his shirt and sweatpants.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She has to find Maxine. She quietly closed his door and descended to the streets of her city, making her way back to her apartment. Her thoughts were clouded with circumstances surrounding her dream, Maxine, the abductors, the voice that lit the whole room. She convinced herself it wasn't Alex, it could probably be someone else... someone she's been trying to forget but she can't. But then again, those words would fit Alex at all. Maybe because he was beside her whole night. Maybe she heard him from way outside her dream.

Her cheeks suddenly turned red as she once again remembered how she clung on to Alex. If she did that for the whole evening, then she possibly couldn't see him ever again. It was too embarrassing for her to cross paths with him again. She knew full well that what they had going on was not gonna be what she wants to happen. She could feel him having no actual interest in her, he was just being friendly because she believes he's trying to pry information from her. She's convinced that Alex is somehow involved in Maxine's loss.

Shaking her head and clearing her mind from all thoughts regarding that man she won't name anymore, she slowly ascended the wooden steps of her apartment, hoping for Maxine's safety.

She swung the door open, peeking at their room seeing Maxine plopped on the sofa.

"Maxine!" she shrieked in excitement as she grabbed her and hugged her tight.

"Hey Sam, why the tight hug?" She asked, patting her back and escaping from her warm embrace. Tears fell from Samantha's eyes as Maxine pushes her and tried to ask her about her weird behavior.

"What's wrong with you? I just went out last night. Oh and by the way I met a pecuiliar guy at the bar last night. He says he knows you.

Samantha's head pinged and she looked at her with raised eyebrows. Could it be...

"Does he go by Alex? You know, brown hair, blue eyes and a whole lotta tattoos on his arms?" Maxine's eyes widened at the accuracy of Samantha's description.

"So you met? Since when? I was still about to set you up today!" She got up, looking shocked.

"That was last Friday night! You went missing just last night!" Samantha corrected.

"I swear I'm right. That's what my mind could recall." Maxine trailed off to the kitchen as they make breakfast.

Samantha wanted to go back to Alex. She had a feeling he would know what to do. But because of last nights embarrassing act of stupidity, she'd best be letting this mishap slide.

Samantha noted that at certain times of day, Maxine would just stare out the window, and everytime she calls her out, Maxine wouldn't respond. As if she couldn't hear her even at close proximity. At this point, she began to extremely worry and texted Alex about her friend's situation not minding meeting him again. She thought that she shouldn't let personal things interfere at this kind of danger.

But she was all too late. She didn't expect that she was dazed for a reason. She wished she never left Alex's apartment. She wished she kept on hugging him for just a little more while.

Her eyes were open but she couldn't see a thing, her mouth was open but she couldn't say a word. She was bound and gagged, but this time it's for real. She didn't show any sign of struggle as the foreign people pushed her, babbling using their language it almost felt they were bickering.

And then she found herself in a laboratory of some sort, wincing as the harsh lamp light flashed across her. An old man donning a lab coat covered the light.

"We finally got you, Samantha Coleman. Smile at the camera so I can send this to your father dearest." The old man spoke, each word irritated her. A tear fell from her eyes as she remembered how her father tried to promise her that his work wouldn't interfere her. She knew it isn't his fault entirely but somehow fate tangled her up to thid point. She isn't gonna survive this.

"I want something that you have. You may not know it, but I know you saw it." He cackled injecting her with some sort of anaesthetic. She knows this because as soon as 30 seconds she already felt sleepy and her mind began to black out.

***

Samantha found herself by the pier, just beside Charlie, her boyfriend's families' yacht. They're out for their annual family summer outing and she can't join as she has to look after her mother who's at the hospital.

"Babe, I'll send you pictures once I get a signal. I promise. I'll also pray for your mom while we're there..." Connor smiled at her, the strong seaside gust blew his collar, as she held her sun hat tight.

"Thanks honey, you take care there, okay?" Samantha's words started to echo in the background as the horizon quickly shifted from day to night.

Maxine sat beside her as uncontrollable tears flowed out of her eyes. It has been a full day since she last heard from Connor and word was his whole family hasn't returned yet.

"Do we need these?" a muffled voice was echoing from the sky. Samantha just sat there, unbothered by the strange noises in the sky, her tears start to fall on her real body.

"It's still a failed project. It's supposed to look for memories but this is the one she's recalling."

"So how do we know if she'll show us her memories of the code?!" a loud slam translated as thunder in her dream.

"I don't know Boss Nero, maybe we could influence her to think of the code."

"Listen, Princess. Think of your childhood memories. Think of what you saw when you accidentally looked on your Daddy's drawer."

Samantha winced as her memory swirled back to her childhood. She heard excited laughter from the sky as she found herself in her room, as a kid. The radio from her dream immediately interrupted her as news flash about a missing yacht, cruise ship and cargo ships that sailed on that fateful day when Connor had his family vacation. Hundreds of people were either dead or missing and the main cause that was officially declared was a storm and big waves. Many speculate about possible pirate invasions but their wreckage wasn't found.

She found herself back at the pier. The sky started yelling curse words angrily toward her. Then another loud sound manifested as thunder.

"Boss Nero, we're being compromised! Multiple armed forces are out for us.

"Gah! Of course they're catching up to us! Quick evacuate and do not engage whenever possible. Let's save our numbers for later."

"What about her?"

"She's still induced. She's just going to be a pain to carry. Leave her be. If they successfully retrieve her they won't be after us." Nero commanded as they left the scene.

Samantha on the other hand, was trapped in her own personal memory realm, flashing about the moments where she felt utter sadness when she found out that her boyfriend was gone forever.

#wow that's longer than usual #chapter 6 #codmw #codmwfic #Alex x OC #hello people reading my tags

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itsevanffs · 3 years

Note

rage, rage?

My,,, war fic, yes. (Hi sorry for the wait)

I, uh, did delete like half of the outline since I posted the original post you probably got this from (and I might start over completely because i’m an idiot) BUT I’ll tell you what’ll stay the same :D ...the age gap (23 years) That’s it. Probably asjdshd

Ok, I’m kidding. It’s a muggle au, war fic, Tom is either a terrorist or a home terrorist (I can’t quite decide yet) and his goal is to go independent from whichever country I decide he’ll be based in (Britain or the USA, nothing else). It’ll probably be based in the past (the 1960s look so good but I’m personally having issues with the pesky thing called the Civil Rights Movement, especially should I base it in America (more playing ground). It’s a big thing and I’m not the right person to describe it, a white person with too much time on his hands and an attention span of ‘it interests me, 3 straight weeks, it doesn’t, 3 straight seconds’ so I might make it earlier? 50s, 40s. I do like the cars.) and a LOT of research will go into it. On the one hand I do sincerely hope that once I’m halfway through it the MI6 or FBI or whoever will start contacting me and demanding what I know because that means I write well, but on the other having to prove that it’s all inference and that I didn’t, in fact, steal army strategy plans or layouts of certain areas would be quite a hassle.

(Yes, it has happened to others.)

...while googling instances, I found that the FBI is willing to help writers accurately portray them, and have been doing so since the 1930s. This is fantastic fucking news, my day has been made, I sincerely hope MI6 extends the same courtesy. Gods, what a gorgeous world we live in. I’m literally ecstatic.

I digress. So, where Tom is a (home) terrorist, Harry is a newbie soldier in the army of whichever country they’re based in. They meet before they both slot in their respective roles, though, and while Harry leaves oblivious, Tom leaves with an enormous crush grudge. This, once they’re both active in their respective factions, this translates into a desire to make Harry Tom’s equal and opposite, so to speak, so Tom arranges it that Harry becomes the Big Power behind the counter-movement to his own so he can defeat him in a spectacular way. Of course, things don’t work out exactly as planned, and they fall in -fairy noises- l o v e. -fairy noises-

As I stated earlier, there are several ways this could play out. I’d say you simply have to sit back and enjoy anything that comes around. I can give you a snippet or two, but no promises that the end result will look anything like this.

Harry steeled his jaw, and Tom, seeing this, pulled back just in time to avoid their heads colliding painfully as Harry threw his head forward. Harry clearly hadn't anticipated him avoiding his attack, so they stayed there for a few, long seconds, harsh breaths intermingling, the smell of mint and blood mixing to something gruesomely sweet in Tom's nose. Tom's eyes wandered over the small dips in Harry's skin where scars criss-crossed over the pale expanse, following a thin white line that reminded the world of the gruesome split lip Harry had carried for weeks after the first time Tom attacked, and down to his mouth.

Then Harry tried again, and Tom only tilted his head this time, so that their lips pressed together clumsily with a bruising force. Instinctively, Tom closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, his hand raising to the back of Harry's head and trapping him in place with a strong grip. The blood rushing in his ears almost drowned out the surprised, protesting noise Harry made. Tom shifted, resting his knee on the chair, next to Harry's thigh, and deepened the kiss, mouthing at Harry's lower lip. Harry opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Tom simply took advantage of it and traced the sharps of Harry's teeth with his tongue. When Tom finally leaned back, he felt Harry following, and gave in once again, seeing through his eyelashes that Harry's eyes had shut too before their lips reconnected and his mind went blank except for the motions. Harry sighed softly into Tom's mouth and Tom traced the tip of his tongue gently against Harry's in reply. His mouth felt cold against Tom's, and was tinged with a metallic taste that could only be blood.

The fic will be based on two poems: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas, which represents Tom’s side of the story, and Bayonet Charge by Ted Hughes, representing Harry’s side of the story. I’ll include both under the cut. A random fact, while we’re at it: Bayonet Charge is my favourite poem of all times. I adore everything about it.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Bayonet Charge

Suddenly he awoke and was running- raw In raw-seamed hot khaki, his sweat heavy, Stumbling across a field of clods towards a green hedge That dazzled with rifle fire, hearing Bullets smacking the belly out of the air - He lugged a rifle numb as a smashed arm; The patriotic tear that had brimmed in his eye Sweating like molten iron from the centre of his chest, -

In bewilderment then he almost stopped - In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nations Was he the hand pointing that second? He was running Like a man who has jumped up in the dark and runs Listening between his footfalls for the reason Of his still running, and his foot hung like Statuary in mid-stride. Then the shot-slashed furrows

Threw up a yellow hare that rolled like a flame And crawled in a threshing circle, its mouth wide Open silent, its eyes standing out. He plunged past with his bayonet toward the green hedge, King, honour, human dignity, etcetera Dropped like luxuries in a yelling alarm To get out of that blue crackling air His terror’s touchy dynamite.

#war fic #tomarry #historical fic #harry potter #fanfic #ask

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gwynposting · 3 years

Text

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 4)

This story takes place after “The Star” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

AO3 Link | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

The life-sustaining scent of coffee finally entered her lungs - the one thing her body craved more than her newfound nicotine addiction. Its sultry aroma always fooled her into thinking she’d soon be filling her stomach with anything other than the bargain brand coffee grounds she’d manage to scrounge. The sound of the coffee machine at work, the aroma that filled the air - to her sleep-addled mind it was almost hypnotic. More than once had she been shaken out of said daze by the rather rude beeping of the coffee machine, signaling its completion.

But today broke the usual trend, in a strange way, the wait made her anxious. Her mind still felt foggy and clouded, but the rest of her body was on edge. The heel of her foot bounced up and down as she leaned against the counter, her teeth caught her lip and picked at the skin.

She had no idea why she was so antsy. She had worked with the most ruthless fixers Night City had to offer, clashed with dangerous gangers that lined every street corner. She robbed Arasaka. Twice.

In fairness, I died both times, she thought to herself, letting out a morbid chuckle. She was far too tired and far too unwilling to think into the deeper implications of what that could possibly mean. But before she could even shake the thoughts away, her attention was captured by the familiar beeping from the coffee machine.

Finally, she thought to herself, a weary smile upon her face.

She pushed herself from the counter and made her way over to the fridge. The fridge only kept the essentials - a small container of synthmilk for coffee and two cases of beer. She swiped the container and unscrewed the cap, pouring a splash in both of the cups set out on the counter, before closing it up and storing it back away. V then gingerly removed the pot of coffee and began to pour, first Judy’s cup then hers.

V took a cup in either hand and made her way to Judy’s workstation, the blue glow bleeding between the door’s cracks once more. As she opened the door, she found another familiar sight - Judy’s legs were perched on her desk, her left over her right. The braindance wreath was wrapped around her head, her editing glove was active, and she performed gestures left and right as if a conductor guiding an orchestra.

And in her own way, she was. She was the maestro of the sights, the sounds, the emotions that were displayed before her. Her deft hands weaved tracks together, enhancing and diminishing the highs and lows of her performance, her art. Her craftsmanship had made not only V, but countless others, feel sensations otherwise thought unimaginable.

V took a step forward and set out the coffee before Judy. At first Judy didn’t seem to notice, neither the sound nor peripherals breaking her out of her work, but as soon as the aroma reached her -

Judy snapped her eyes to the cup, with steam rising high against the desert morning cool. She then turned her attention left, and smiled in recognition. Her eyes were bloodshot, and dark creases had formed underneath. “Just what I needed,” she said with a gravelly voice. She brought the wreath down from her head, resting it around her neck. With a smooth motion she removed the editor from her hand and gingerly placed it on the table. Then with eager hands, she reached out and brought the steaming mug close, deeply inhaling, before taking a ginger sip.

“Thanks babe,” she cooed, beginning to feel a part of her life restored as the warmth crept down her stomach and through the rest of her body.

“Couldn’t sleep?” V asked, taking a sip from her own cup, before taking a seat on the couch that faced Judy.

Judy shook her head, “Barely got an hour or two. Around midnight I was gettin’ restless in bed but I didn’t want to wake you up. Big day and whatnot. Need you rested and alert.” Her tenor wavered against the rough undertones of exhaustion.

V nodded her head in understanding, “It’ll be okay, Jude.”

Both of them knew she had no way to know that for certain, but neither wanted to give more life to the doubts that constantly gnawed away every hour of every day. Judy opted to join V instead, grabbing the blanket on the opposite side of the couch and draping it over their laps. Judy fell into V’s embrace, a hand around her shoulder and her face resting on V’s side.

“Can I tell you somethin’ kinda dumb?” Judy broke the silence.

“You decide to follow your lifelong dream of joining Maelstrom?”

“Pssh. No, y’gonk.” Judy tried a chuckle but was either too tired or too preoccupied with the thoughts already clouding her mind. “Honestly what scares me... is the finding out part. If you know what I mean,” her hands fidgeted around her mug, “Finality.”

“Like no longer being able to tell yourself there’ll be a way out of it all?” V cut in.

“Yeah,” Judy almost whispered, “It’s like… up until this point there was an ‘at least now we can sorta pretend it’ll all be okay’ kind of feeling.”

“Almost like blissful ignorance, in a way.” V rested her cheek atop Judy’s head.

“But once all this is over, V, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” V said without a single doubt in her breath.

“Let’s take a vacation. Just the two of us. Cross country. Actually live for a little.”

It took V a little by surprise, the concept almost felt foreign to her. No stress, just living. Living with Judy. Tears began to form in her eyes, and she found it hard to even speak.

“V?” Judy asked concerned, if not a bit anxious, pushing back to look up to V’s quivering lip.

V looked down to Judy’s worried face and blinked away tears, sending them to stream down her blushed cheeks. “I want that so fucking much, Jude.”

“Then promise me.”

“Yes,” was all V could muster.

***

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Panam turned over to V. The loud thrum of her Thorton dampened Panam’s voice, mixed with the sound of air rustling past their cabin.

V stopped fidgeting with the hair that had begun growing in on the buzzed part of her undercut and turned to Panam, “Like what?”

Panam turned deadpan, “Don’t insult me. You know what I mean.”

V blushed, giving Panam a knowing look. But she couldn’t hold a candle to the fierce gaze that met her eyes. Instead, she opted for looking out the window, gazing to the vast empty desert beyond. Her knee began rising and falling rapidly.

“A week ago you were the most annoyingly upbeat person in camp. A big improvement from the brooding silent V, mind you, but at least I knew that V was straight-edge. Are you gonna be okay for this?

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s just…” V couldn’t find the right thoughts.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” Panam finally said with understanding.

V finally found the courage to look back over, she nodded her head.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you, V”

V nodded an appreciative smile, but returned her gaze out to the desert beyond. That’s what I’m afraid of.

***

With a slam shut of the heavy Thorton doors, V was introduced to the harsh light of the Arizona sun, bearing down with an intensity only rivaled by Mama Welles after getting into a scrap with the local gangs.

There they were - Bryce Bane - donned in a tight white corposuit, accented with a wide-brim sun hat. They sat cross legged, sipping from a rather large cup that seemed filled with 90% ice, waiting at the lone table in the middle of the abandoned wasteland. In the distance, worn down factories littered the foreground of several tall buildings. In a way, the sight reminded V of Night City. While downtown Tucson couldn’t match the sheer might of Night City, the vast web of interconnected skywalks that ran between the towers gave her a sense of familiarity.

Bryce was accompanied by two guards, one with a wide frame and rippling muscles, and the other slender, clad in a jumpsuit typical for netrunners. V and Panam approached the table side by side.

“Can’t say I expected to be meeting you here, but I suppose much changes in three years, does it not?” a teasing tone called out to the Panam. “And to meet a dead man walking, now that is something new.”

Panam and V stood before Bryce uneasy, already pushed off their game.

Bryce rolled their eyes, “Sit, sit.” They motioned for the pair to take a seat at the lonesome table. A small umbrella did its best to shield them from the desert rays, but it was clear from its condition that it had seen one summer sun too many.

“Not gonna lie Panam, you’re bringing hot shit to my doorstep. Saul’s off who knows where and you bring Arasaka’s most wanted on my doorstep?”

V flinched at the mention of Saul’s name and kept her eyes shut for a moment. Panam’s eyes flared with rage before they settled on sadness. “Saul’s dead.”

Bryce nodded in affirmation, “I see. Arasaka?” Their gaze shifted to V, remaining steeley. But they knew the answer the second the words left their lips. The pair remained silent under her gaze. Not one to linger, she asked a different question, “Why have you come here, Panam?”

Panam composed herself before continuing, “We need to get in touch with some old friends of ours in the city, and I know you’re the person to ask.”

“Well you are certainly correct on that - the problem is I don’t know how that concerns me?”

“Excuse me?” Panam’s voice dropped with frustration.

“You’ve dropped back into my radar with what I assume are dozens of the most wanted people in the NUSA accompanied by the merc who killed Saburo Arasaka.”

V pinched the brow of her forehead in frustration, “I never. Killed. Saburo. I keep telling this to people and yet-”

“I don’t care if you didn’t actually kill him. I care what everyone else thinks. Two thieves in Konpeki the night Saburo is zeroed? You gave them a perfect scapegoat.”

Through clenched teeth, V started, “Gee. I’ll remember that for next time.”

Panam cut through the conversation, “You and I both know the corpos don’t know Aldecado from Snake from Raffen. They don’t care to find out either. All I hope is that they focus most of their attention on the remaining Wraiths in the area now that we’ve up and gone.”

Bryce smirked, finally enjoying the game being set in motion, “but who’s to stop big bad ‘Saka from tumbling through poor old Tucson? If they wanted to they could probably make it all through the Western states before the NUSA made any significant fuss about it.”

Panam rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

“My, quite the presumptive one are we?” They took a sip from their drink, shuddering as the cool liquid radiated through their body. They paused for a moment. “You’ve recently acquired weapons - it just so happens that I need some. For use in your protection from Arasaka, I assure you.”

Panam deadpanned, “Cut the shit, I’m not giving you anything.”

“Now now, who said anything about gifts? Fair pay for quality goods,” they splayed a hand against their chest and produced a look of mock indignation, “I’m anything but a cheat.”

Panam shifted from side to side. “Fine. But you’ll come to us, we’re not bringing them out here.”

“Tsk tsk,” they tutted, “don’t trust me hmm?” Only to be met with an annoyed glare from Panam and a slightly confused look from V. With a sigh, they drawled on, “So boring… fine. I do believe you mentioned something about contacts?”

Panam motioned over to V. “We need to get in touch with a techie - Sammy Trevalo. Last time we met was in Tucson but I know he roamed up to Phoenix occasionally as well. Former Storm Tech rat, ended up burned because he was skimming secrets to Nomad groups.”

Something at the name perked Bryce’s eyebrow in interest. “Sammy hmm? What could you possibly need that old dog for?”

“Not your business.” Panam instantly shut down.

Bryce scoffed and rolled their eyes, “All biz with you nomads, jeesh. What else am I supposed to gossip about in this wasteland.” They eyed Panam and V until they realized neither were budging, before continuing with an exaggerated moan of frustration, “Fine, I know where to find your techie-” they let it hang.

Panam pinched her brow, “...How much?”

“Why free of course, what a better way to celebrate our new partnership in arms trading than a show of appreciation.” Bryce smiled a bit too brightly.

V’s mind flashed back to her and Takemura’s meeting with Wakako Okado. The ronin’s words echoed through her head, “What is free often proves most costly.”

“What’s the catch?” V broke through.

Bryce leaned forward, “Multiple layers of reinforced concrete and steel stand between you and him.”

“And you want us to get him for you,” V groaned in understanding.

Bryce shrugged with a smile, “He’s usually a rather resourceful lad, but it seems his luck ran out. Got raided by Phoenix PD and they found an assortment of stolen corpo implants… among other things. Now he’s locked up, and I don’t have the time to wait for his release nor do I want to take the risk he doesn’t survive his full sentence.”

“So you want us to break him out of a prison.” V deadpanned. Fully automatic guards, turrets, most likely a netrunner. You’d think if these cities put a fraction of their policing budget into solving the root cause, then -

“Don’t be silly. Sammy is currently being housed in a high-security prison, but seeing as it's filled to the brim, good ol’ Sam will be getting a transferral to something more low-security. And before you go thinking that it’s better for him, think more along the lines of stuffing fish in a barrel.”

“So we’re aiming to hit the transport?” V questioned.

“Precisely.” Bryce nodded with a smirk.

“Then what’re we talkin’ here, AV?” She looked over to Panam who returned the same look, hesitation.

Instead they were met with rather undignified chortling, “For a group of meatbags like them? The city would never waste money on the fuel. No, they’ll be transported by bus.”

“Now that’s more my style,” Panam smiled.

V chuckled, “What, didn’t want to take down another city’s power grid?” She turned back to Bryce. “How do you already know all this anyhow?

“I’ve been planning Sammy’s breakout since he got himself locked up. I’m the one who managed to get him on the transfer list afterall.”

“Seems like you have all your ducks in a row then,” V paused, “the question is, why bother with us then?”

Bryce huffed, “Well for starters, I’m not paying you with eddies. Call it a mutual relationship - we both need Sammy - I provide the intel you provide the muscle. Second? I’m not going to pass up using a gang of veteran convoy raiders the exact time I need a convoy raided.”

Before V could pull Panam aside to mull it over, Panam jumps at the opportunity. “Deal.”

Bryce’s eyes widen for a brief moment in surprise, clearly expecting much more of a fight, “Wonderful, love. How about I come by tomorrow and we can hash through the details then.”

“Roger. I’ll flick you the geoloc to our camp.”

“Sounds lovely, darling. Though, I do hope you have some amenities set up,” they fanned out their nails for inspection, “I must say this heat can get rather dreadful.”

Panam rolled her eyes, “Afraid you might be disappointed.”

Bryce emitted a dramatic sigh before clicking their feet together and standing up. “Tomorrow then.” They paused for a moment as they looked up to the sun that bore down on them, “...evening.”

“Tomorrow,” V and Panam said in unison.

With that, Bryce was off, tailed by their two guards.

As Bryce’s SUV drove off, back into the city, V let out a deep breath of relief, accented with a hint of trepidation. “A fucking prison break. Of course.” She said to Panam.

“Don’t like it either, V,” Panam admitted, “but they do have one thing right about us.” V tilted her head, “We’re the best damn convoy jockeys this side of the NUSA. Or do I need to remind you of the time we stole a tank?”

V tried to put a smile on, but it wavered into more of an unconvinced grimace. Panam wrapped an arm around V and shook her affectionately, “Let’s save the doom and gloom for after we find out what this heist will turn into, eh?”

“Right…” V nodded.

“And listen, V.” Panam waited until V turned towards her, “Even if it stinks to high heaven, we’re here for you.”

“That’s the part I’m worried about,” V’s voice was more steady now.

“How many times do we need to go over this V?” Panam’s fiery tone was returning once more, “We knew the risks going into Arasaka, we did it anyways.”

Panam let the silence hang but was only met with V’s unconvinced face, “And V, that raid saved this family. We were destined to either sell our souls to Biotechnica or be slowly stripped apart by Raffen Shiv. The gear we looted from ‘saka will last us years, V. Years. And when we do need to eventually find work again? The Aldecados will be etched into every fixer’s brain across the NUSA. Though,” she chuckled for a moment, “Perhaps the name ‘V’ might pop up there first. Word down the grapevine said you were a near legend already before hitting Arasaka tower. Good thing you’re with us then,” she nudged V’s arm.”

“What’re you trying to say, Panam?” V felt almost exhausted.

“I’m saying that this family owes you, V, whether you think it or not. You act as if we’ve never lost members during raids before. Hell, you should know from your days in the Bakkers, V. This is survival, and you were up there leading the charge the entire time.”

V wavered, now unsure. “Maybe…” only receiving an eye roll in response from Panam.

“So brooding my god. C’mon,” Panam stood up and offered a hand out to V, who readily accepted the help, “Let’s hit the road.”

***

The ride back wasn’t the smoothest. Decades of neglect combined with the intense weather patterns that passed over the Southwest had worn down Arizona’s infrastructure to the nub. Luckily, Panam’s Thornton was as good as trucks came when it came to suspension. But even with some of the world’s best shock absorption, V was cursing with frustration with each mistyped letter on her holo.

“Heya, evwrything wnt ok, we’re headed back.” she messaged to Judy, too annoyed to go back and fix her mistakes.

Judy’s reply was immediate, “Don’t drink and drive *and* text, V ;P”

“>:(“ V responded, her face the complete opposite of the text, a wide grin on her face, before following up, “Shit roads. Half dirt at this point.”

Judy’s response was prompt once more, “Learn anything from the meet?”

V paused for a moment, deciding whether or not she wanted to have this conversation in person or over text. She drafted up a rather short reply, “Good and bad, I’ll let you know more when we get back,” but shook her head and erased the text. Last thing she wanted Judy to do was worry unnecessarily.

“We know where to find the guy Panam was talking about. Problem is he’s locked up. I’ll explain it more when we get back to camp.”

“Oh jeesh. Well, at least we got something to go off of.”

Judy followed it up with another text. “By the way, dinner tonight smells absolutely delicious. Some sorta synthbeef stew. Living downwind of the mess hall is both tantalizing and agonizing.”

“I’ll tell Panam to step on it. Be home within the hour! :3” V texted back.

“See you soon~ <3”

Now that her thoughts were elsewhere, suddenly V didn’t seem to mind the road too much. She looked over to Panam, who glanced back with a raised eyebrow, knowing smirk along her face. “Whaat?” Panam could almost hear the smile in her words.

“Nothing.” Panam said with a chuckle, retraining her eyes back on the road, “I’m glad you finally have someone, V.”

V’s goofy-ass grin shifted into something more soft, more appreciative, “I think I’m finally happy, Panam.” V paused for a moment before continuing, a bit more somber, “I just want it to last…”

“Hey now, none of that. It will last. So keep your mind on the good, last thing we need’s a gloomy-assed merc on a convoy hijack.” Panam certainly had a way with words.

“How ‘bout a gloomy-assed Aldecado?” V grinned.

Panam only rolled her eyes in response, but was unable to fight down the smile that crept up on her face.

***

The mess hall was organized chaos. The room was filled with Aldecados lining up every which way for the day’s dinner, funneling in and around one another as people tried to both reach the food and their seats at the same time. Judy stuck to V like glue as they made their way to the old school cafeteria bench tables. They picked a spot away from the hustle and bustle of the crowd and sat on opposite sides.

V tore into her stew as if she’d not eaten for days. Judy couldn’t help but giggle to herself as she slowly worked through hers, savoring every morsel. Warmth crept upon V’s cheeks as she noticed Judy looking at her with playful judgement.

With a hearty sigh, V placed down the now empty bowl with naught a lick of broth remaining. Another Aldecado strolled by the table, fresh pot of coffee in hand, and refilled both of their cups to the brim. They both nodded in appreciation as their server set off to fill the mugs of other caffeine-hungry Aldecados.

“So,” Judy broke the silence, bringing the cup up to her lips and breathing in the aroma before taking a sip, “you had good news then?”

“Sort of,” V shrugged, “It mostly depends on the info the fixer brings us.”

“Difference between smooth sailin’ and uhh, what did you call it, V?…” she snapped her fingers as she tried to recollect.

“A turd wrapped in crepe paper?” V smirked.

“Exaaactly.”

“Essentially, yeah. Apparently Panam’s contact is locked in prison, but he’s set to be transported to another facility pretty soon. The fixer is giving us the detes on the convoy and we’re supposed to hit it.”

“Wooh,” Judy grimaced, “sounds risky then.”

“Potentially, yeah. I’m as blind as you are about the info at this point, though. Fixer’ll come by tomorrow to fill us in.”

“Any way you think I can help?”

“Can’t know if you don’t tag along yourself tomorrow~” V floated over. Her foot had found her way to Judy’s calf and had begun brushing along its length.

Judy made a face of hesitation, “Would that be like… okay?”

V reached out and took one of Judy’s hands in her own, “You’re part of this family too, Judy. Of course it’d be okay.”

Judy blushed and looked to the side, “I guess I just sometimes feel a bit… disconnected, y’know. Like I’m looking from the outside in.”

V tilted her head in confusion, “I thought you were getting along with everyone just fine? I know Panam’s taking a liking to you too.”

“It’s not that, it’s just...” Judy paused for a moment, trying to mull over her thoughts. “You got into the Aldecados by proving yourself to them, saving their hides left and right. I just sorta showed up.”

“I think I get that,” V nodded her head in understanding, “for what it’s worth, if I’m an Aldecado, it’s because you helped me get there. Pretty sure I woulda fallen apart in Night City without you.”

V paused, but saw Judy wasn’t convinced. “Not everybody needs to take on a Raffen camp solo or steal a tank to become a member of the family, Jude. If that were the case, the Aldecados would fade into dust. As a wise chica once told me, ‘it’s what you bring that counts.’” V began to stroke the top of Judy’s hand with her thumb, “You make it seem like you haven’t been THE go-to braindance techie of the camp.”

“Pssh, usin’ my gonk-ass words against me is cheating. Still though, I wanna help, if I can.”

“Of course, Jude, we’d all love to have you there.”

And just for a moment, the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria faded into the backs of their minds. The background of chattering Aldecados, the clinks of metal silverware and the distant shouting from the cooks were mere afterthoughts as they held each other’s presence. All they knew was each other.

But ever increasingly, Judy’s mind became more and more pre-occupied by the annoying tease of a foot brushing up and down her calf. And of course, V’s smirk showed she full-well knew what she was doing to her.

“Home?” Judy breathed, perhaps a little too desperately.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #judy alvarez #judy x v #female v #v x judy #AATW

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malereader-inserts · 4 years

Text

broken crown | v.

“You’re inherited some of his traits,” Harry mentions from the armchair, “I mean you like to spew out wisdom at random times or mumble some incoherent words that are definitely not English or Latin, you’ve got his rage, his passion, his wonder and skill.”

Word Count: 1,561

A/n: Truth be told, idk if this make sense but I hope it does

< Previous | Next >

Remus was alone in the house, after mere hours of the wedding ended, he and Tonks got into an argument, about the child she was carrying. He was alone again, in his home. Tonks decided to stay with her dad and mum whilst she cooled off - Sirius came crashing with them as well, wondering how well his cousin was doing.

Remus creeks the door open to your room, it was spotless and probably the first time he had seen it so clean. Your room felt cold, despite the summer sun shining through the windows, lighting up your Gryffindor banners and such. He looks at your bookshelves, the rows of books you had written neatly on its spine.

Year One: September - December.

The first one in the row, in the eighteen notebooks of your years. One to six, of course, there were other notebooks stood up with them, when Remus looks he didn’t understand it as it was either advance Latin or runes he could not decipher. When you had moved into his home, you had also brought yourself a chest, Remus didn’t questioned it, but whenever he had come into your room - the chest seemed to be locked.

He’ll admit, there’s time curiosity had gotten the best of him and he’s tried to unlock it. But, it wouldn’t budge. Remus sits on your bed, looking around the room, even with your Gryffindor banners and such, your room was full of pictures. You seem to dedicate a wall for them, many of the pictures were with you and the trio as you grow up, some was with your mother, and others with him.

Remus felt alone.

“Leave-!”

Harry had screamed at Remus, who had unexpectedly turned up at their hideout, explaining his situation. Remus could not see you in the kitchen with the three, unknown to him that you were sitting on the stairs listening to him. You grit your teeth as you wanted to explode, it hadn’t been a day yet and he was already here.

You scoffed as you hear his story, your father abandoning Tonks because she is with a child - he fears that he had passed down his gene, and yet there was you. You adored Tonks, you found her charming and had a fiery personality, she was a great addition to the family. You hear Remus leaving the kitchen, about to go down the hallway when he stops to hear your voice.

“What am I to you?”

Remus turns around, sharply, he had hoped that you hadn’t heard his conversation with Harry. But, unfortunately, you did. There were a few things Remus had feared, one the full moon, and secondly, the hatred within your eyes. It wasn’t quite a hatred, perhaps it was offence, disappointment.

“Is that why you ran away from mum and me?” You steamed, refraining yourself from standing up and towering over him, “We could have been a happy family, you could have been-”

You stopped, lip quivering as your hands shook with rage. Those times as a child when you craved for your father was because he was too much of a coward. Your dad was practically a stranger to you at the age of nine, the age when he found the courage to meet you - not through the letters or the pictures.

“I was trying to protect you from me...”

“NINE YEARS DAD,” You shouted, your best friend cringing how your voice broke with anger, “I never have shown signs of me being a werewolf, so why should this child have them? What are you going to do - be a coward?”

And that stung, Remus’ shoulders deflated, as if Harry hadn’t convinced him enough to go back to Tonks, you were doing one hell of a job and stabbing whilst at it.

“Are you going to run away forever? Come back nine years after to greet this child, that poor child doesn’t deserve that!” You exclaimed, “What if this is the end? What if we die and that child doesn’t get to have a dad, a brother? All because you were too afraid to show your face.”

You had roared, standing up as Remus took a step back, he hadn’t known you could produce such wrath and how it was terrifying to be around. Your eyes burned, and not with a fiery passion, it burns dark with a burning hatred of the moment.

“Go-”

“(Y/n), please-”

“Come back to me when you’re a man,” You seethed, taking a step down the stairs towards him, he steps back again, wanting to keep a distance from you, “Come back to me when I see my father again, until then, I’ll be waiting on the other side.”

Remus looks at you, fury and rage had not dispersed as you threaten to take another step. Knowing not to push you over the edge, he makes a run out of the house, apparenting away.

“(Y/n)?” Hermione softly says, noticing you had made your father run, “Please calm down...”

You took a deep breath, sitting back down on the stairs. Your hands flying to support your head. She sat down next to you, her hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you hold back a sob.

“It’ll be alright, (Y/n),” Hermione soothes, “He’ll turn around and go back to Tonks.”

“I feel like I was too harsh,” You responded, looking at her, defeated, “That was my dad, I shouldn’t have talked to him like that-”

“He’ll understand.”

It had been a few days camping in the home of the Blacks. Kreature had summoned Mundugus Fletcher and that’s when you and the group had devised a plan to get the necklace from Umbridge. It’ll take a month before everyone could set out, so there were many nights and days where you would be sitting around and talk. Anything and everything.

“I never asked,” Hermione spoke out from the piano bench, looking at you who was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling blankly, “(Y/n), what did you get in your OWL’s?”

“Yeah,” Ron hummed in agreement, “You should have gotten good grades since you’re Merlin.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I got an O in DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes and Potions - which is surprising because I was horrible at potions and Snape hated me. Pretty sure I scrape that grade, then again, if Snape hated me that much he would have graded me lower so I didn’t have to go to his NEWT lessons.”

The group chuckled remembering how you would start getting on Snape’s nerves and always struggled with memorising the ingredients.

“I got E in Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy. And then A in History of Magic,” You shrugged your shoulders, “In all honesty, average, why?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as you sat up, “I was curious, since you’re, you know, you?”

“Merlin was extraordinary in charms, that’s why they call him-”

“Prince of Enchantments,” Hermione nodded, smiling, almost excitedly, “I read that somewhere...”

She blushed as Ron stares lovingly at her, you shared a look with Harry before looking at Hermione with a grin your face.

“That’s correct, Merlin seems to be a peacemaker, but I don’t doubt for a minute that Merlin was poor in offence magic - he was at Arthur’s side for a reason. I just often wonder why me?”

“His rage?” You tilted your head in questioning.

“Yeah,” Ron draws you attention, “You have two types of anger, your normal state and a state where you have such threatening aura, it seems like the powers of your ancestors are with you, like invisible shadows defend you sort of thing, we call it Merlin rage.”

“Huh,” You mumbled, “I never noticed.”

“You always get caught up that’s why,” Ron continues, “Like what Harry says, you also get caught up that you start speaking words we don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Force of habit,” You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess.”

“You’re powerful,” Hermione murmurs as you looked at her, your shoulders deflated, “You were ahead of everyone in school, it’s a wonder how you got average grades.”

“I was caught up like you said, I got bored with that stuff I wanted to know more about Merlin. His spells, his notes, years worth of his adventures with Arthur and his battles with Morgana. I practised day in and day out of his spells, they are complicated and every day, I get frustrated. That he’s bestowed this purpose on me, his powers on me. I spent more time in Dumbledore’s office trying to harness it, trying to control it. I have managed to do a fraction of it - by my age, Merlin was extraordinary and I am not-”

“Yes, you are,” Harry cuts you off, as you snapped your head towards him, “You are extraordinary, you just don’t see it.”

You sighed, of course, they see you as some extraordinary figure. How can you lead an example when you can barely control what has been gifted - it would be selfish of you if you hadn’t gotten this glorious gift, but you never asked for it.

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir @lanlanlan020202 @hanniejji @dumbssbtch @lea-the-foxe @stan-joonies @littertortilla

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x male reader #x male reader #broken crown

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Irritated part 5

A/N I had to split this chapter for tumblr so have part V early while I work on VI

A heavy rock song rings out in the dead silence of the room. Pulling a growl from two opposing bodies. Bakugou's growl lasts to the chorus as he curls into the body in front of him. Pressing his forehead into the cool and smooth skin of the person beside him, shrinking in an attempt to hide from his alarm. The person relaxes at his heated breath, both parties starved of physical affection. Emotions were exhumed this morning, ones that were thought to be long forgotten suddenly burning in the too bright sun.

Suddenly the two of you jump simultaneously as if shocked. Pops of explosions dance over deadly fingers as items begin to rise around you.

You both hold each other's gaze, like two big cats following the same prey, before he stops activating his quirk and items float gently back into place.

You blush when you see what he is wearing, biting your lip when you see a certain outline. Your cheeks flush further when you remember what you're wearing. Low light paints people in more gentle tones, the sunlight beams heavily past the partially drawn curtain highlighting the harshness that is Bakugou.

Maybe he thinks the same of you.

He tilts his head and cuts you with his gaze.

"We never fucking speak of this again." He says swiping the air as if dismissing it all. His alarm breaks the silence between you two, easing some of the tension as he slams his fist against his phone.

"Get dressed Princess. We're gonna be late with how long you take." He growls, motioning towards the sliding glass door as he makes his way towards the shower. You follow him with heated eyes.

"First off I don't really take that fucking long." You lash out, angry for whatever reason that he provokes, last night clearly dying with the moonlight, "You're impatient Bakuou!"

He stops next to you, harden shoulder bumping harshly into yours. He wants to grab you by the throat, to push you against the wall if anything to feed his dominant desire to tame the brat that is you.

But he saw the way you recoiled from his sudden touch before.

"Keep your voice down. When I have women screaming my name it sounds much more pleasant than that. Now get. Out."

"Fuck off." You snarl with flushed cheeks as your insides twist and boil.

Stop bragging about previous conquests is what you want to scream but you bite the inside of your lip instead.

Why did it matter to you who he's fucked? Who he has woken up with and snuggled close to? Why did it fucking matter?

Well it didn't.

You climb over the three feet between the two balconies, scraping your knees along the rough concrete before righting yourself to stare into the ominous room.

Had someone broken in? Worse yet were they still there if they had? You ease the sliding glass door open silently. Slinking in like a cat and feeling for anything organic within the bedroom, bathroom and even the closet.

When your search of the dead space in the textured four walls comes up empty you sigh with relief, shoulders literally sagging away the tension as you begin to gather a fresh suit from your bag heading for the bathroom.

Until the sunlight bounces off something that is placed on your still made bed atop the pillows.

You hadn't remembered any stupid mints being laid out in your room or in Bakugou's for that matter so when you approach to get a closer look your body seizes.

You fight the scream that roars up your throat as you shake, struggling and falling to restrain yourself as your eyes take in the horror.

A belly button ring with a dangling gem in forest green, a doll's eye that mirrors your own stunning eye color and a note smiles smugly at you.

You huff and puff as you snatch the note from the bed. The words burning into your retinas as you almost hear the voice in your ear.

*"You'll be with me soon. In the meantime wear this for me? I'd love to see it peaking through your suit."*

Your hand flies to your belly button ring now with a black gem, your fingers curl around it quickly and you pull until a small arch of blood follows in its wake. Your breath is labored as you stare at the items, the belly button ring on the pillow shatters as does the TV as you shake with rage.

Finally you stop vibrating and force yourself to move to get ready. Barely able to stomach the thought of how irritating Bakugou is going to be today and the last thing you needed was another parasite crawling under your skin. You shower quickly although you want to scrub your skin raw as you think of that man rummaging through your items, taking the time to write some freakish note onto the hotel stationary before leaving.

You imagine him doing what you caught that asshole doing on the night that almost ruined everything. Sitting upright in your bed hugging onto your pillow, an unwashed hero suit on his exposed lap now covered with several milky stains as he waited for you.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as it replayed over and over and fucking over again.

"FUCKING PATHETIC!" You scream at your reflection. Blaming her for all the misfortune that has come your way. You bring your fist back and slam it hard into the glass cheek causing the mirror to reflect a number of you.

But this does not stop you and you slam your fist over and over into the glass until nothing but glue and old unpainted drywall stares back at you. You huff, having hoped the physical exertion would ease your racing mind. But if anything the glass shards protruding from your skin provoked you further.

You do not regret ripping out your belly button ring as you slide into your suit, careful to avoid agitating the now sensitive skin. Dressing quickly so you can properly address your bleeding knuckles that are currently wrapped with a hand towel. The gauze in your bag is easy to find, switching it for the hand towel bloomed with red hastily as you think you hear one of your neighbors emerging from their room. It is a poor wrap job but something is better than nothing as you hear foot steps stop at your door.

You open it with cold eyes just as Deku was about to knock lightly.

"Ah Y/N!" He sounds startled and looks well rested, "Are you ready for today? We have back to back interviews and q&as."

"As ready as I'll ever fucking be for this bullshit." You growl pushing past the chipper man to start your, hopefully, final day in hell.

Your mood soured quickly although that seemed like an impossibility. Yet here you were arms crossed over your chest as you were guided backstage by your two coworkers. Bakugou spies coffee and sugared pastries as he makes he way to the table. Actively avoiding you the best he can. He stares down at the two iced coffees looking perfectly blended that sit along side breakfast sweets. He wondered if he shared this favorite thing with you too. His hand hovers over the second coffee, glancing over his shoulder, debating if he should bring it to you. Images of last night rush to the forefront of him mind.

*"Please stay Katsuki."*

His heart pounds in his chest.

*"We never fucking speak of this again."*

His own voice haunts him as he snatches a chocolate croissant sipping on his coffee. Thinking better of taking you breakfast it's not like he was your fucking boyfriend or anything. Hell could you guys even be called frenemies? He isn't certain anymore. He hates that he can no longer label you as *just* irritating, loathsome, or annoying that new adjectives have popped onto that list.

Adjectives like alluring, soft, sexy.

A vein pops in his forehead as he watches you talk to Izuku. He looks worried, probably asking you if you're alright and you look mad. As if Izuku was the cause. He watches your bandaged hand gesture as you speak with heated eyes. He sips his coffee, you hadn't had this mysterious injury last night nor did you have it this morning before you left his room. He thought he heard thumping coming from your direction this morning but he wasn't sure as he was blasting music to get the sound of your voice out of his head.

Izuku pulls you into a hug and you look stunned, pretty face pressed agaisnt a harden chest. The croissant begins to be reshaped with deep grooves as the chocolate melts from suddenly heated air. He looks down at the smushed pastry with a grimace before tossing it in the trash.

"Oi." He steps close to the two of you, coffee still in hand, "No time for you love birds to kiss face. We start soon morons."

"Shove it Bakagou." You snarl, shoving past him hard enough that his coffee tries to slosh past the lid.

Hot ember eyes stare after you.

"This isn't helping her turn her day around. She's clearly upset." Izuku scolds as he walks past his childhood friend.

××××××

You sit beneath the harsh lights, sweat from their heat collects on the nape of your neck mixing with the irritation you have for the man that sits to your left.

Why the fuck where the three of you collected on a love seat as if this were someone's living room and yall were having a fucking chat over tea?!

You hated that most about interviews but right now you hated most how Bakugou was touching you.

His arms are crossed, arms long enough that even leaning away his elbows dug into your bicep.

Or maybe the damn love seat was too fucking small for three people.

Worst of all he was scowling over the crowd avoiding questions as best he could.

Izuku on the other hand has greatly improved on his interview skills, so much so you've come to rely on him to speak with the media.

I guess Bakugou has come accustomed to it too.

Unfortunately you begin to naturally mimic Bakugou's body language as the interview drones on.

Stupid questions about previous missions, "back stage info" and dissecting WHY he liked Katsudon so much.

"Its just always been my favorite meal that my mother made." He smiles warmly at the memory and the women in the audience swoon.

"Bakugou your favorite meal?"

"Spicy." Is his one word reply and you roll your eyes.

"Well Y/LN. We haven't heard much from you but I have to ask the question everyone has been dying to know." The host smiles from ear to ear leaning closer as if he had a secret to share.

"Are you dating anyone?"

You pause for a moment.

Was this bitch fucking SERIOUS. You want to hold back, need to hold back but you're irritated.

Angry and at the fucking world. He just happened to leave an opportunity for you to let go, especially since you've answered this question before.

"In the past forty minutes of this interview that was the only question you could think of for me?" The host blinks slowly as if stunned before leaning back. Attempting to regain his composure. Deku gives you a small nudge that you choose to ignore.

"W..well it was the most fan voted question!" He retorts but little did he know you saw the Twitter polls this morning on your walk over.

"Oh is that so? It's funny because the most fan voted question for *me* was if I used my quirk to get ready in the morning. You know like levitate my hairdryer. Sometimes, is the answer by the way." You turn to the audience for the answer before returning to the host, "That question you asked me was meant for *Bakugou*"

He visibly begins to sweat, a cat smile forms on your face as you watch him squirm.

"You just knew I would have a better chance of answering that again before Bakugou ever admitted if he had someone in his life or not." You laugh and it echos back to you with a hint of cruelty, "Hell Bakugou would commit seppuku before he *ever* admitted to any emotions aside from rage."

People in the audience agree and the host blanches before the timer dings.

"W...well that's all for today folks. Don't forget the Q&A with the top three heroes and more later this evening. In that portion, you the fans will be voting live and having some time to ask face to face with your hero!" The crowd erupts with cheer as you stand abruptly.

More than done with this bullshit.

Izuku follows you quickly, Bakugou's steps are stunned.

I guess that was how people saw him huh?

"Really?!" Izuku for once loses his temper with you, well if you could even call it that. He takes a deep breath before reining himself in

"Why would you say any of that?" His tone comes out as a disappointed dad and you sigh audibly.

"Its not like she lied or said anything untrue." Bakugou chimes in arms crossed staring at you.

"See even Bakuhoe thinks it's okay."

"Watch it."

"Fuck off yea?" You snarl with venom that for once actually stings, Bakugou takes a step for you. Large palm outreached.

He has a lot of questions for you and if the only way to get the answers was to beat the shit out of each other then so be it.

"Stop!" Izuku steps between yall, huffing with redden cheeks, "Neither of you were helpful during this interview! And yall were doing so well what happened?!"

Both of your minds flash to last night. Your weak, sleep laden voice echoing.

*"Please stay Katsuki."*

"FUCK!" You hiss, pulling at your hair as you turn away. Both men look to you and your abnormal behavior.

Sure you've lost your temper, been irritated or straight up pissed.

But never....distressed.

Izuku swallows what little anger he felt, maybe it was more annoyance than anything as a gloved hand reaches out to you.

But it never makes it.

"Katsuki, Izuku and Y/N!" A sharp toothed smile approaches, "I've been looking all over for you three!"

"What do you want shit hair?" He snarls before Kirishima smiles wider, so used to his abrasiveness. He spies you and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm starving and fate demands that we have lunch!" He squeezes you closer and you smile widely as ruby red winks.

He is your new partner in crime after all.

The four of you eat order far too much food. Kirishima helps to lighten your mood and ease the tension with you and Bakugou again.

Even daring you to steal his fries while looking him in the eye.

You do, as does a cat when they knock picture frames off of shelves. Katsuki retaliates by snatching your last chicken nugget that he dramatically savors.

You laugh aloud, suddenly forgetting your problems in the middle of the fast food restaurant.

But the feeling couldn't last long enough.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha au #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha imagine

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

Love has Many Forms

Caesar Zeppeli x mermaid reader

Requested by: @v-v-e-g-a

Mermaid AU

The most difficult thing about this was learning how to speak and pronounce words again. Please enjoy. This is kinda long.

There were things about Air Supplena Island that very few people knew -even things Lisa Lisa didn’t know about- and one of those things was the vast amount of aquatic life that thrived in the surrounding areas. Caesar often found himself watching the waves from the small harbour, trying to see if he could spot anything new or make a game of counting sea life.

Though, one day, he caught a glimpse of a large fish tail disappearing under the waves. Confusion flooded him at it. There were dolphins in Italy but the tail didn’t match that of a dolphin’s and it was far too large to be a regular fish’s. Strange. After a minute or two of searching for the tail fin again, he brushed it off as a dolphin’s. Perhaps he just missed the dolphin and caught the last glimpse of its tail.

Shrugging it off, Caesar turned and walked back into the building.

Unbeknowest to him, a pair of inhumanly [Eye colour] orbs peered from under the waves at where he once stood. He saw her. Well, he saw her tail fin. Slowly, her head poked from the water, catching the last glimpse of him before the door closed. A light, bubbling sense flooded her body; a familiar feeling that she often felt when observing the blonde human.

[Name]’s lips lifted into a soft smile as she remained there for a moment longer before turning and diving back into the water, returning to her little cove close by.

***

The first time she saw the blonde human, she was unsure what to think. Humans were spoken with a harsh tone among her pod, often cursed and perceptive as monsters who would snatch merfolk from the water and hang them in small tanks. Many of those stories resulted in the merperson dying, though [Name] has always been a curious one.

And when she saw that human, her curiosity had been plucked and it had yet to fade. She watched him from the curtain of water, a barrier between him and her. Sometimes, she found herself thinking about the blonde and how would he react if he saw her. Would he be afraid? Aggressive?

From what she has witnessed, he was a fighter for humans. A warrior of sorts, using bubbles as his weapon like members of her pod used spears and their claws as weapons.

Shaking her head a little, she curled up in her little cove below the island and allowed herself to rest.

***

The next morning, just before the sun was about to rise, he was there again. Leaning against the jetty that stood above the water, a camera in his hands. His golden blonde locks messy from sleep and his clothing unkept and crinkled. He yawned a little but forced himself to focus. Caesar had noticed that the sun rise from this view was gorgeous and he wanted to capture it.

As the first pale rays of sunlight began to appear, Caesar brought the camera to his face, ready to press the button at the right moment. However, a sudden gust of wind threw him off guard, causing him to drop the camera into the water below him.

“Accidenti.” he cussed, looking at where the camera had fallen. A low sigh slipped his lips before he quickly rushed down to the harbour area and searched. Maybe it didn’t fall as deep as he thought. The cold water reached his knees before he began to feel around for the camera to find nothing. With a quiet curse, he turned and plopped down on the sand. He could still watch the sunrise, at least he had that.

As he watched, he spotted something out in the water. It appeared to be a... woman? He could see [Hair colour] hair and the shoulders of a woman facing away from him, seeming to be holding something.

“Signora!” he called out to the woman. This region of the water was known for being home to sharks. The woman gave no indication that she heard him, seeming focused on the sunrise. Cupping his hands over his mouth, Caesar tried again.

“Signora! It’s not safe out there!” He called out, hoping that the woman could hear him before a shark or some other predator crossed her. The woman turned her head towards him though she was just out of reach to make out any features. Before Caesar could call out a third time, the woman submerged herself under the water. Was this woman insane?

Just as Caesar was about to turn and dive in, something caught his attention. Something floated towards him on a piece of broken wood, acting like a raft. The camera. Undamaged as if he didn’t drop it at all. Picking it up, he looked beside it to see a photograph. A photograph capturing the sun rise perfectly in all its beauty.

Confusion flooded him. The sun was not at this point when he went to take the photo, so something else had taken it. Was it that woman? He looked around and saw her to be no where around.

Strange. Very strange indeed.

If Caesar stayed for a few seconds longer, he would have seen the saviour of his camera and the one who took the photograph for him. A smile on her lips when she saw him take both the camera and the photo.

He saw her. Kinda. But he saw her.

***

Something was not right. The weather was cruel, unforgiving tonight. The sky shouting and screaming as the waves thrashing violently, shouting back equally as vile comments. [Name] glided through the water, her mind swirling as she approached the ship that had fallen victim to the storm, crashing into the rocks.

That blonde human was on board when it crashed, him and his friend. [Name] shoved the door open and looked around the ship, searching for both humans. Humans couldn’t breathe underwater like she could.

When she pushed another door open, she found the brunette man. The one the blonde spent time with. His shoulder spilling a thin trail of blood into the water. Not good. If she didn’t get them to the safety of shore soon, the sharks would be here and they would stand no chance. Hooking her arms around him, [Name] pushed herself upwards towards the surface, keeping him above the water as she swam towards shore. She dragged him onto the beach and left him there before diving back in for the blonde human.

Luckily for her, the blonde was in the room next to where she found the brunette. Blood trickling from a small wound on his head. Hooking her arms around his, she pushed herself through the water and carried him to shore much like she did with the other one. Once both of them were beached, she placed her ear onto their chests, hearing the rhythmic beats of their hearts. They were alive, both of them. She smiled, calming her racing heart, and took this moment to examine the blonde.

Soft, golden blonde locks that mimicked the glow of the sunlight drenched by the sea water, sticking to his fair skin. A peaceful expression on his strong features, as if he was only sleeping and not unconscious from a shipwreck. There were moments where the brunette had said his name but the words always struggled to leave her lips. And she had tried.

Sharp claws brushed a strand of hair from his face, resting against his cheek for a moment.

“Ssee...saar.” The words fell from her lips like rocks, rough and sharp, but understandable. Much to her surprise and shock, his emerald green eyes opened. Unsure of what to do, [Name] froze, watching as he blinked and looked at her. Confusion filled his eyes at the sight of her, along with flecks of recognition when he looked at her [Hair colour] hair.

“Signora.” he spoke weakly, his voice mirroring his exhaustion. [Name] smiled lightly at his recognition of her. Placing a hand over his chest, she gazed into his eyes.

“Yoo... saif.” She forced out before turning around and diving back into the water, ignoring his call out for her, and disappearing under the waves; leaving him questioning what he had just seen.

***

He didn’t forget it. Caesar laid awake at night thinking about what he had seen. Did he really see a creature of myth? Or was it a delusion from the injury he got? Lisa Lisa did say he hit his head... No, it wasn’t that. He had seen her before, glimpses of her. Flashes of her gleaming tail in the rays of the sunlight, sparkling as it vanished under the waves. His eyes drifted to the photograph of the sunrise.

Picking it up, he looked at it again. That... mermaid took a photo and gave it to him. His eyes shifted from the photograph to his balcony, towards the water. He walked out onto his balcony and looked out ahead of him, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. He needed to know he was not seeing things. To know that she was real and not a figment of his imagination.

In his desire to see her, Caesar rushed down to the harbour again; eyes scanning the waves. He was tempted to call out to her but what would he shout? Mermaid? He didn’t want to risk alerting Lisa Lisa or Joseph, or even Suzie Q of this. Though that was not necessary as, just past a rock that juttered out from the water, he saw her.

[Eye colour] orbs glowing in the pale moonlight that spilled over the waves, [Hair colour] locks swaying under the waves as if they were creatures of their own. His eyes widened at the sight of her, she wasn’t imaginary. She was real.

“Signora, sirena.” His hand outstretched slightly towards her. She responded by disappearing under the waves and he almost shouted until he saw the ripples approaching him. Seconds later, she emerged from the water in front of him, looking up at him with those stunning [Eye colour] orbs of hers that glowed in a way no human’s could.

He fell to his knees, wonder washing over him as he leaned closer slightly, careful not to fall into the water.

“Y-You’re real.” he muttered in almost disbelief. She titled her head a little at him. Did... did she understand him? “Can you... can you understand me?” he asked her. She rose her hand from the water and brought her index finger and her thumb close together but not touching, as if holding something small between them.

“Little bit... heeuh humans speek.” Caesar could barely believe this. He was talking to a mermaid, and not just any mermaid but the mermaid who saved him and Joseph from the shipwreck. He smiled at her. Looking around, he spotted a patch of the beach where it connected to the water. He pointed towards it.

“Go there.” he said and made his way towards it, the mermaid following beside him. When he reached it, he sat down and watched as she emerged from the water, leaning on her arms and keeping her beautiful tail in the shallow water.

He smiled at her before speaking, “Thank you for saving me and my friend.” The mermaid smiled at that, bowing her head as a response. “And for the photo.” That earned a confused look from her. Caesar brought his hands up to his face, pretending to be holding a camera,

“Photo.” he repeated, “Thank you.” That seemed to help her understand him and she bowed her head again. As Caesar took in her features, he noticed how the silver scales on her body shimmered in the moonlight, it was stunning to watch.

He glanced down and noticed her webbed hand inching closer to his, curious as to what she wished to do, Caesar held his hand out for her. Her palm brushed against his, smooth and cool against his flesh, as she pressed their palms together. Not holding his hand but touching it. Something strange bloomed inside Caesar’s body at this, something tingly and warm.

“What’s your name?” he asked her, his voice soft as he looked at her. She rose her other hand up to her chest, pressing her hand against where her heart would be.

“[Name].”

#caesar #caesar zeppeli #jojo bizarre adventure #caesar x reader #caesar zeppeli x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #battle tendency #jojo battle tendency #battle tendency x reader #mermaid au #mermaid reader #reader insert

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

I love your writing! I don't think I have seen him yet, so sweet Carwood Lip please for the Valentine's alphabet, if you have the time 💖

valentines day alphabet ( accepting! )

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

He has a very gentle presence, which allows him to share space with someone without being overwhelming. Lip’s love languages are quality time --- he thrives in being around people, actively listening to them and getting to know them --- and acts of service. Once he knows them well, he’s able to be there for them, doing little things to help them out when they need it most. Lip is a generous guy to begin with, but he’s at his best when able to do things for others. He’s a giver. While not shy about physical affection, he uses it strategically, more to reinforce his presence than be excessively affectionate.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He has a special fondness for flowers, in the “I should probably not be left alone to grow any of them myself” way. He enjoys looking at them, and his mother maintained a lovely garden which he helped with on occasion, under her strict supervision. Bouquets are a favorite gift, and he’s likely to show up with a nice one to any special occasion.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not a big fan... so he’d claim, 'til he spots a bowl of brownie batter, at which point he must be fought off with the nearest ladle.

D : DATE. what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He wouldn’t mind something simple and quiet --- maybe a night at home, where he gets to surprise his partner with a homemade dinner. He’d light some candles, get out the nice silverware, and just enjoy the time with his partner; afterwards, they’d go out onto the porch with mugs of coffee or tea, drinking in the quiet night. He’s also partial to visits to museums. Being surrounded by art gives him a certain sense of peace, an insight into humanity as more than it currently is; that’s something he’d love to share with his partner.

E : EMBRACE. does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

It’s all about the arms, man. We knows this. He had the arms of a bear-faced god, and isn’t afraid to use them. Being hugged by Lip is like curling up by a fire, under your comfiest blanket, with a good book and a warm drink. He makes people feel safe.

F : FLIRT. is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Shy boy. Flirting is definitely not where he excels, and he’s too guileless to do it properly. Just... approaching a stranger and winking at them? “Chatting them up”? That’s... uncomfortable.He’s the sort of guy to buy people drinks at the bar and genuinely not expect anything in return, though it’d be nice if they did. Lip is much more flirtatious once actually in a relationship --- he jokes and teases in a charming, restrained way that’s utterly him.

G : GIFT. is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’s a very thoughtful gift giver, who takes the time to observe what people need, and genuinely listens to them when they talk about things they’re looking for. Unconsciously, he keeps mental lists of gift ideas for all the people in his life, and refers to them whenever a birthday or holiday comes up. He’s not excessive with his gifts, but they’re always just right. (Except when it comes to clothes. He should never be allowed to pick out clothes for other people, especially women’s clothing.)

H : HEART. is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He cares for a lot of people, but Lip is always cautious; his heart is a carefully guarded thing, and once he trusts someone with it, he wants to know that they’re the right person. His heart is won gradually, over a period of coming to know and love a person better.

I : I LOVE YOU. does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He finds it very easy, as soon as he knows it within his own heart. Lip could absolutely be the first one to say it in a relationship --- and wouldn’t be discouraged if his partner didn’t immediately say it back, because everything comes in it’s own time. He’d rather it be natural than forced in the moment. Lip doesn’t say it constantly, but every time he does, the words carry twice their original meaning.

J : JEALOUSY. does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

While certainly not intimidated easily, Lip has a jealous streak he goes to great efforts to smother. It’s not gentlemanly, it’s not always sensible, and certainly not something to make a scene in public over... but he might pointedly capture his partner’s attention if he feels it straying, and try to discuss things in private afterwards. He doesn’t like this part of himself, but he can get a bit defensive sometimes.

K : KISS. is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Lip... thinks he’s a worse kisser than he is. He underestimates himself. Sometimes overthinking gets the better of him; he’s hyperconscious of where his hands are, what his partner’s body is doing, how they’re responding, whether he’s being gentlemanly or over-forceful... Lip’s kisses tend to be restrained and respectful, not assuming anything. The farthest he’ll go is sucking on his partner’s lip a little, just to test their response. Whatever response they give, and whatever lead they take, he’ll go from there. Given the proper cues,

L : LOVE. who does your muse love?

His mother and brother, absolutely; his friends, completely; his neighbors, because he’s the sort of guy who knows his neighbors’ names, and helps Old Mrs. Huston down the street with her groceries every week; and his partner, with all his heart, if he were to have one.

M : MOONLIGHT. is morning or night a more romantic setting?

He’s at his most sappy romantic mid-morning, when the sun’s high in the sky and the world is finding its rhythm. Getting to spend a quiet morning in with his partner sounds like heaven.

N : NAUGHTY. what is your muse like in bed?

He’s willing to follow his partner anywhere they want to take him; Lip can never be comfortable until he’s sure his partner is, and is sure of what they want. Now, if they want him to be dominant, he’ll do it gladly... but he’ll never be rough. He’s very into hearing his partner talk during sex, mostly because he wants to keep tabs and know how they’re doing; but if his partner’s the one who seizes control, Lip runs out of words very quickly. Harsh breathing, moans even when he tries to hold them back, eyes squeezed shut to cling to his self-control... into hand holding during sex. He’s a very physical lover, with a lot of stamina; sometimes leaves bruises without meaning to and feels guilty afterwards (aftercare with Lip is like going to a spa). Occasionally he enjoys music to set the mood, or even candlelight, but Lip’s versatile. If his partner’s up for it, he can rumble pretty much anywhere.

O : ODE. does your muse have a way with words?

He’s a surprisingly skilled writer, and can be quite eloquent when he puts his mind to it. Though plainspoken by nature, Lip’s written a few poems for his private collection, and would definitely try his hand at love poetry for his partner. They’re not half-bad.

P : PARTNER. what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Lip kind of wants someone who can keep him on his toes a bit. For as steady as he is, he’s drawn to unpredictable people, with a healthy sense of humor. Someone who appreciates quiet, but knows exactly when to fill it; someone who isn’t afraid of responsibility or commitment. A hard worker; someone who can carry an intelligent conversation, and is naturally a thinker. If they share common interests, like literature/museums/engineering, he’d be absolutely delighted. Above all else, Lip’s drawn to people with beautiful smiles, even if they don’t show it off that often.

Q : QUESTION. would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Call him traditional (it’s valid, cause he is) but Lip would like to be the one to pop the question. As soon as he decides that, yes, he wants to spend the rest of his life with this person, Lip’s next step is to evaluate --- do they feel the same way? He spends a while overthinking this question before finally deciding to just take the leap and buy a ring. The proposal will come in a quiet moment, when he and his partner are both feeling equally at peace. If his partner beats him to it, he’ll be surprised, of course... but either way, the end result is the same. If it means spending

R : ROMANCE. is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He wishes he were more romantic... but, unfortunately, practicality is ingrained in this man’s bones. He’ll definitely surprise his partner with bouquets on occasion, and thinks very carefully about gifts, but he’s not the ‘spontaneous romantic adventure’ sort.

S : SWEETHEART. did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had a few middle school crushes that never went anywhere; that’s as far as Little Lip’s love life ever went. He bore a lot of responsibility from a young age, so never really had time to mess around.

T : TRUE LOVE. does your muse believe in true love?

He... would have to see it firsthand to believe in it, but he believes in individual cases of it. Like, his mother and father --- that was true love. Lip saw the way they looked at each other, so there’s not a doubt in his mind. He doesn’t believe it’s everywhere, or even common, but in certain cases true love definitely exists. Maybe it’s out there for him, too... he hopes so.

U : UNREQUITED. has your muse had their heart broken?

In a romantic relationship? Not... not really. Lip’s got a strong heart. It’s endured a lot, and can endure more.

V : VALENTINE. how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He’s a very proper “dinner date and a box of chocolates” type, so would go out of his way to do something nice for a partner, but doesn’t make much of the day himself.

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes, this is absolutely something he wants! Lip’s given it a lot of thought, and the idea of raising his own family appeals greatly to him; he lost his father at such a young age that he really wants to be a constant, supportive presence in his childrens’ lives. And, more than anything, he wants to spend a lifetime with someone he loves. That would make any future struggles and past strifes worth it.

X : XOXO. does your muse use / like pet names?

Very conservative with them. “Sweetheart” or dimunitives of someone’s name is probably as far as he’d go.

Y : YOURS. does your muse get protective easily?

Again, yes, and he doesn’t like it about himself! Of course, Lip would move mountains when the people he loves need help --- there’s no shame in that --- but when it comes to his partner, he can get territorial. Seeing someone threaten his partner is one of the few things he’ll get angry about, and a pissed off Carwood Lipton is not something anyone wants to confront firsthand.

Z : ZZZ. how many people has your muse slept with?

Not a lot. He went to college for a short time, and that was really where he was able to let loose; while still a diligent student, he went to a few parties and met a few girls. So, by the time of the war, maybe three partners? Enough that he’s not nervous in bed, and has a good idea what goes where.

#carwood lipton #headcanons

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 23

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Brilliant sunshine streams through the windows, tearing her from a peaceful and much needed sleep. Despite the years of living like a nomad while travelling from job to job, the past five of being a wife and mother content in her own home have spoiled her; it had been extremely difficult falling asleep in a strange bed. Even with the that warm and solid body beside her, the familiarity of his smell, the smoothness of his skin, the sound of his breathing. The mattress was foreign, feeling strange and uncomfortable underneath her, despite the obviously high quality. She missed the way the one at home moved and dipped underneath her; those little grooves long ago made by their bodies, the pop and the squeak of the springs, the clean and refreshing scent that lingered on the fabric. The room had seemed eerily quiet, even with Tyler’s soft snoring and the way he mumbles in his sleep. She is used to the sounds that come with living in an old house tucked away from the rest of civilization; the owls that hooted, the bats that screeched and called to each other, the settling of old pipes, the dog’s tag clinking against his collar as he switches positions at the foot of the bed.

And most of all, the sounds of children; the little voices waking her up in the middle of the night as they climbed into bed between her and Tyler, the baby fussing in the room across the hall, the crying and the complaining when they’ve had nightmares or aren’t feeling well. For five years that’s been her life; tending to the needs of others. Her ‘mommy senses’ far keener than those she’d ever developed on the job. The ability to snap awake at the even the creaking of a loose floorboard or a car speeding by more than a thousand miles away. Perhaps it was the job that had caused her mother instincts to be so sharp; she’d already been used to being on high alert.

Eyes still closed; she blindly reaches for him; fingers coming in contact with cool, empty sheets instead of warm, hard body. Frowning, she pushes herself up onto one elbow, using her other hand to push her hair away from her face and clear sleep from her eyes. The sliding glass door is open several inches; a crisp, refreshing breeze tumbling into the room, the rain from the night before leaving behind cooler temperatures. And she reaches across the bed for the night table on her side of the bed, pulling her cell phone from the charging cord and checking the time.

8:47.

She pushes herself up into a sit; still groggy from lack of sleep, shoulders and back aching from trying to get used to an unfamiliar mattress. And she leans over the side of the bed and reaches for the t-shirt that had been discarded in the early hours of the morning. When the sun had just been peeking over the horizon and Tyler had stirred beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his front against her back, that impressive morning erection pressing against her backside. It was one thing about being away from the kids; you could make as much noise as you wanted, take your time, no worries of interruptions or having to make sure you’re at least partially clothed before falling asleep so you weren’t caught naked and unaware by the little humans that would come bounding into the room the moment they woke.

“Tyler?” she calls into the room, as she shrugs into the t-shirt. Listening for any signs of his whereabouts. Out on the balcony drinking coffee and getting fresh air. Or even getting in a ‘do it yourself, no equipment’ workout. She listens for the shower or any other movement coming from the bathroom; the door slightly open, the sunlight tumbling through the window above the tub and its rays cast across the bedroom floor. “Tyler?” she tries one more time, voice louder, then with a groan climbs off the bed

“Men,” she huffs, she heads for the bathroom. They lay out the ‘don’t go anywhere on your own’ rules but never want to follow them themselves. It is typical of him; protective and almost possessive. To a fault.

She’s just returned to the bedroom area and rummages through her bags for something to wear when she hears it; harsh whispers coming from the hall. She can see the movement of two distinct sets of feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, the slight shadows that are cast on the wall as figures move in front of the seam. Her hands freeze on the zipper of the backpack and she strains her ears to listen. One very obvious Irish accent, male. The second voice belongs to a woman; husky in nature, a subtle yet noticeable New York twang that Esme is able to pinpoint as Brooklyn. She’d spent eighteen months in the Big Apple; hopping back and forth between Brooklyn and the Bronx. Successful infiltrations of well known and very powerful families. Old money. Organized crime connections. The mature faces on the drug and weapons smuggling scenes.

She waits for them to knock; watching those shuffling footsteps from underneath the door, unable to make out any of the conversation. The actual words are muddled, their tones too quiet, too rushed. And ever so quietly she opens the zipper on the backpack and snags a pair of yoga shorts, still pulling them on as she makes her way towards the door. Resting a palm against the smooth cool wood, the fingers of her other hand curling around the metal door handle. She feels no anxiety. No panic. Just a quiet, composed calm as she listens to the soft rustling of clothes and the shuffle of footsteps and the whispered conversations. There are many things to take into consideration; someone mistakenly be giving this room number instead of their actual own, thinking perhaps maybe this was where a friend or family member had bedded down but weren’t one hundred percent sure. Hotel workers, maybe. Cleaning or maintenance staff. Porters. Room service clerks.

The conversation now moves away from the room; the voices becoming quieter, footsteps muffled against carpet as they head away from the room. And she counts to thirty before finally opening the door. Cautiously glancing to left and then the right; nothing but unmanned cleanings carts at either end and room service trays full of dirty dishes and cutlery in front of some of the doors. To the right comes the soft rumble of the elevator motor, and as the door opens with a chime, she’s just able to see two figures step out of a doorway across from the lift and hurriedly make their way towards it. Neither of them glancing in her direction as she scurries in her bare feet towards them.

****

“Shit!” she snarls, slapping her palm on the elevator door when it closes, cutting off any contact between herself and the occupants. And she’s suddenly aware that a maid is watching her curiously from several feet away as she hovers over her cart of cleaning supplies. “Did you see who got on the elevator?” she inquires, her tone far more tense than she intends it to be.

“No, miss. I just got out here from cleaning a suite. Why…?”

“Who is staying that room?” she nods towards the door she’d seen the strangers step out from.

“No one. It’s empty.”

“How long has it been empty for?”

“A couple of days now.”

Esme frowns. “Are you sure? Are you a hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, miss. I cleaned it myself. When the guests left.”

“Are you sure you’re not mixing it up with another room? Because I just saw two people come out of there. A man and a woman. They were outside my door. That’s five rooms away from here. I heard them talking. Are you certain there is no one staying in there?”

The frazzled housekeeper nods.

“And you didn’t see anyone got on the elevator? Not even a peek at them?”

“Like I said, I was just in a room cleaning. You can call down to the front desk if you like and inquire about that room, but they’re only going to tell you the same thing I am. There hasn’t been anyone in there for a couple of days now. I’d know. I’m the one that has to tidy up after people.”

Esme gives a polite, albeit curt, thank you and moves towards the room in question. Facing the door, taking as many steps forward as she can until her bare toes touch the wood. There wasn’t enough room for one person to hide in that small of an alcove, never mind two. She tries the handle on a whim, finding the door tightly secure. Then presses her ear to the door and listens for any sign of life.

Nothing.

It’s disheartening. Even maddening. She knows what she heard. What she saw. Yet there’s absolutely no proof that any of it actually happened. There are no faces to connect with the voices. No bodies to place with the footsteps. There’s nothing but two strangers getting on an elevator. And the questions they’d left behind.

She turns to head back to the room, realizing that in her haste to catch whoever had been in the hallway, that she’d inadvertently locked herself out. The key card tucked securely inside of her wallet. Back in the nightstand on her side of the bed. And she’s muttering to herself about when she steps out of the shallow alcove, nearly jumping clear out of her skin when she nearly collides with Tyler’s broad, solid torso.

“Jesus Christ!” she cries, having to fight back to urge to either knee him in the groin or punch him in the throat. A natural instinct when startled by God knows what. Or who knows what. “What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to leave the room alone.”

“So that gives you the right to sneak up on me and nearly make my pee myself? Fuck, Tyler. You could have at least said something, so I didn’t nearly kick you in the nuts. You didn’t have to creep up on me like that.”

He isn’t amused. His brow furrowed and his nostrils flaring as he curls his fingers around her upper arm and pulls her out of the doorway and practically shoves her down the hall; grip on her tightening as he propels her towards their room.

“I don’t have my card,” she reluctantly admits, and he heaves a frustrated sigh and nods down in the direction of the left-hand pocket on his flack jacket. His own hands already occupied, one with the painfully tight hold on her arm, the other with a carry out tray of beverages and a bag of food. “I didn’t think it would lock behind me,” she attempts to reason, as she plucks the card from the jacket and slips it into the slot on the door.

Letting of her arm, he pushes the door open, holding it for her. “Just go,” he orders, voice low and menacing.

She pauses on the threshold, a hand on her hip as she glares up at him. “We are NOT fighting about this.”

He smirks, eyeing her up and down with that utter condemnation that uses for those that especially piss him off. Then nods in the direction of the interior of the room. “Go.”

She arches her eyebrows, as if silently challenging him, but his deep inhale and slow, measured exhale tells her that this is not the time to be testing the limits of either his patience or his temper. Instead she holds her hands up in surrender and stomps past him. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she watched his every move; the way he lets the door slam shut and does up both the deadbolt and the chain, that condescending smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he walks past her, that calm yet utterly unnerving way he unpacks the carry tray and the bag and places the contents on a table near the window. She’s had five and a half years of this, whether it be the silent treatment or abrupt one or two word answers, or outright blow outs. Yet he’s still hard to read sometimes. A master at hiding his true feelings. That expression steadfast.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the room on your own,” his voice is calm. Too calm. Like the eerie stillness right before a storm.

“I only stepped out for a couple of minutes.” It sounds lame, even to her own ears.

“We talked about this. I told you not to anywhere by yourself. You said you wouldn’t.”

“It was only a couple minutes,” she repeats.

“Do you know how much can happen in two minutes?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Tyler. I’m not one of your kids.”

“You listen just as well as they do. Actually, I think they listen better than you do.”

She frowns. “What’s next? I can’t go to the bathroom without you holding my hand?”

That smirk again. “I thought you said you didn’t want to fight about this? Because it sounds like you’re trying to start a fight.”

“I can’t leave the room, yet you can leave the hotel by yourself?” she challenges, and he gives a derisive snort.

“I can handle myself. If something goes wrong, I can take care of it.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t talk to me like one. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“You mean like you were able to take care of Jason by yourself?” he counters.

“That was five years ago and under totally different circumstances.”

“You stole my gun, stole my car, snuck out of the house and flew to Dhaka. While you were pregnant. You’re right. Totally different circumstances. In fact, they’re even worse than these circumstances. I told you not to go anywhere by yourself. I asked you to listen to me and stay in the room. At all times. Unless I’m with you, you don’t go anywhere. And you said okay. You were fine with that. So what the fuck is the issue? I’m gone for half an hour and you totally go against everything I told you?”

“I was fifty feet away.”

“I don’t give a shit!” he bellows, and she blinks at the vehemence in his voice. “I don’t care if it’s five feet away! I don’t care if it’s the next fucking room! You don’t leave by yourself! You did this shit back in Dhaka and you’re doing it now. I told you back then not to leave my side and you did and you’re still doing this shit now. Why do you have such a hard time listening to what I say?”

“I’m a human being, Tyler. Not a thing. Not some object you own. So…”

“You’re my wife!” he snaps.

“Yes. I am. But that doesn’t make me your possession. You don’t have ownership over me.”

“That is not what this is about. This isn’t about me wanting to own you or having possession of you or whatever weird shit you have in your head. This is about keeping you safe! This is about making sure that at least one of us gets home to our kids! I’d rather it be me that something happens to you than you. I asked you…I told you…not to go anywhere on your own. Not because I think I own you. But because you’re the mother of my children and I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you!”

“Well I don’t want anything happening to you either and you’re out that by yourself.”

“That is not the same thing and you know it.”

“Because you’re the big bad mercenary who can kill people with his bare hands and I’m just some vulnerable little girl that needs you to protect her at all costs.”

“Esme…” he sighs heavily. “…just stop…why are you even arguing with me about this? You know you fucked up. Just own it. I told you not to go anywhere alone and you did. You can try turning it around all you want. You can try and make me look like the bad guy. Which you’ve been doing for five years every time we get into a fight. I’m always the one that’s wrong. The one that’s controlling or possessive or treats you like a little kid.”

“Well you do. Treat me like that.”

It takes all he has not to storm across the room, grab her and shake the shit out of her. Instead he takes his voice down a notch, able to rein in his temper, standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “I am trying to protect you. Do you know what can happen in a couple minutes? How wrong things can go in just a few feet, never mind forty or fifty? Or a hundred? What if someone had have been out there just waiting for you? What if you’ve already been made and someone is just waiting for you to fuck up? What then?”

“I wasn’t thinking about all of that,” she admits. “I…”

“All the rooms you had to walk past to get where you were. What if someone had have just been waiting in one of those doors? Just waiting for you to walk by? You would have ended up just like McMann’s wife and kids. And then what? Then what the fuck would I do? Then I would have to say fuck them and extract my own goddamn wife. Did you even stop to think about that? What the hell would happen to you? What someone would put you through? Especially if it’s someone after me? Do you know the shit they would do to you?”

“I didn’t think of that stuff. I just…”

“They’d torture you. They’d beat you. They’d rape you. And they’d do all kinds of other sick, twisted shit to you. I have seen what these kinds of people do. I’ve seen it firsthand. So don’t ever question why I am the way I am with you. Why I want to protect you like I do. Because I’ve seen what do to women tied to mercenaries. And I’d never forgive myself if it happened to you,” he pushes hair behind her ears, cradles her face in the palms of his hands, then leans down to kiss softly. “Now are we done? Can we stop fighting now?”

“Well it was pretty one sided because you were the one doing the yelling, but…”

“Stop,” he implores, and pecks her lips. “I was just worried. I didn’t mean to freak out. But this is serious shit and I don’t want anything happening to you. Are we still friends?”

“It depends.”

“Yeah?” he grins, and runs a fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “On what?”

“What you brought me for breakfast.”

****

They sit on the balcony to enjoy their feast; bowls of fruit salad, bagels with cream cheese, cups of fresh, piping hot coffee and tea. It’s a beautiful morning; fresh, cool air replacing the stifling humidity that had blanketed the city just the day before, a brilliant blue sky with enormous, stark white low hanging clouds, a steady stream of cars and pedestrians on the streets below. A busy metropolitan area, but a far cry from the dusty crowded streets of Dhaka.

Aside from that short trip to Cuba together -when the twins had been conceived in a bar bathroom- the last time they’d holed up together in a hotel had been five years ago in Dhaka. That run-down flea bag establishment with its rodent and insect problem and its stained walls and foul smell that clung to every inch. Yet despite the state of the place, that was where everything had begun. Where two lonely and broken people had discovered that their tattered and weather halves could be put together to make a slightly tarnished and dented whole.

“Have you ever heard of the Buckman family? Tyler suddenly asks, as they sit side by side in plastic lawn chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him, sunglasses on his face, coffee in one hand, her hand clasped tightly in the other. “From New Zealand?”

She’s silent for a moment, her bare feet perched upon the top railing of the balcony. “We’re talking organized crime here, aren’t we.”

He nods.

“I know of them. I’ve never had anything to do with them personally because I only dealt with things in North America. But yeah, I’ve heard of them. Why? How do you even know that name?”

“McMann’s wife is related to them. Her father was the head of it, I guess.”

“Alphonse Buckman? I used to hear all kinds of stories about him from colleagues that had run ins with him and his people. All kinds of crazy shit. We’re talking things like attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, forcible confinement. ��And that is just the tip of the iceberg. I wouldn’t even have believed half of it had I not actually seen the guy’s rap sheet for myself. Even the people I got close to were afraid of him. Who would have thought of a crime family in New Zealand of all places? His daughter? Really? How did you find all this out?”

“Yaz ran a background check on her. Remember those videos I showed you? Of the wife and the kids?”

She nods. “I remember you thinking it was strange because the kids were in some dumpy place and she looked like she was somewhere just as nice as our hotel room.”

“I have to show you something,” he gives her hand a squeeze and then stands up, grimacing at the pain in his knees, the small of his back aching and stiff as he heads bare foot into the room. Returning a minute later with the file folder in hand. “Someone came to the hotel I was at before. Middle of the night. Gave me these.”

She takes the item offered to her, then pushes her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and opens the folder. “Proof of life pictures?”

“Apparently,” he grabs his chair and places it in front of her, so they’re face to face. “Tell me what’s weird about them.”

“Well at first blush, the kids are obviously the target of whoever has them. They’re the ones that are the main focus of revenge or rage or whatever you want to call it. Whoever is doing this are sick fucks,” she fights to control her emotions; her thoughts immediately going to her own children thousands of miles away. And Tyler reaches out lays a comforting hand on her knee, squeezing gently in an attempt to keep her calm and focused. “They’ve definitely been getting the worst of things. And wherever they are, it’s run down. Brick walls, exposed pipes and electrical. Almost…industrial…like a warehouse or a basement.”

“What about the wife?”

She moves the photos of the children to the bottom of the pile. “The place is clean. Tidy. A couple of stains on the walls and chunks out of the plaster but nothing gross.”

“What else?” he presses.

“She has a few bruises but nothing major. It looks she’s sitting on a wooden chair. Only her ankles are restrained which is weird as hell. I haven’t physically gone into an extraction and seen one for myself, but it doesn’t seem too productive to only restrain someone by the feet. And the kids are in metal chairs. She’s in a wooden one. Looks antique almost. Or a good knock off. Looks like she tried to give herself a hair cut and failed miserably. Like someone tried to hard to make it look like her hair was hacked off. Even Millie did a better job when she tried to cut her own bangs when she was three.”

“And? What does that tell you?”

She holds a photo of the children and one of the mother side by side, chewing pensively on her bottom lip as she studies. “Tyler…this…” she holds up the picture of Heather Buckman. “…is fake. Not the photo itself. That’s very much real. But the situation surrounding it. It’s not real. It’s totally a hoax.”

“You’re sure?”

“This and this…” she holds the photos side by side, facing him. “…do not go together. What the kids are going through…what’s being done to them…that is very real. But Heather Buckman is lying. She is not being held. She’s acting. There is no way that someone…no matter how sick in the head…would do all that to children but barely make a mark on an adult. Adults they can inflict more damage on. Which they want. They want to be able to prolong it.”

“God, I love you,” he declares, and leans over to kiss her.

“I mean, I’m no criminologist but I’ve seen enough in my own time on the job to know when something isn’t on the up and up. And this is as fake as it comes. But why? Why would she do this? To her own kids? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that. I would die for my kids. In a heartbeat. I can’t imagine doing something like this. I can’t…” the emotion becomes to difficult to control and she stuffs the photos back into the folder and hands it to them. “…I don’t want to see these ever again.”

He nods in understanding, then presses a tender kiss to her forehead before tucking the folder underneath his chair.

“So is McMann involved in this too?” she asks. “Are they both in on this? Is this some screwed up way of getting back at you for something?”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with me at all. This isn’t someone looking for revenge. I have zero ties to these people. Or the IRA or the Buckman family. This has nothing to do with me. I’m just the guy that McMann wants help from. I don’t think he’s involved. I think he’s being straight with me. That his wife and his kids were taken, and he needs help getting them back. He has no clue his wife is even involved.”

“Have you mentioned any of this to him?”

“Only people that know anything about this are Nik, Yaz, me, and now you. I’m supposed to have a meeting with McMann tomorrow morning to see where everything stands. I’ve got nothing to give him. I can’t get any information out of anyone about the wife and kids.”

“Because you’ve been made.”

He nods. “That’s where you come in.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense. Why? Why would the wife do this?”

“McMann told me that they met when he was going an extraction in New Zealand. That his wife was a shop keeper that would feed him information.”

“Okay…”

“It was a lie. Her grandmother was the shop keeper. Her mother…Heather McMann’s mother…kidnapped her to get her away from the old man. Because of how dangerous he was. She was seventeen when it happened. McMann was thirty-three.”

“That alone is fucked up but go on.”

“He didn’t meet her on the job. She was the job. She was his extract.”

“Wait…. wait…” she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “…what?”

“He was working for her old man. To get her back. Only once he got her, he never returned her. He took the money but never brought her back.”

“So he fell in love and hooked up with the person he was supposed to be extracting?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d say this, but that makes what happened between us on the job sound totally normal. But why is she doing this to her husband? If he saved her back then…”

“It was a hit. On her old man. Either McMann did it himself or he had some IRA buddies do it.”

“But why?”

“He was taking jobs for the old man and some of his friends, pocketing the money, and never actually getting any of the work done.”

“So he’s pissed off a lot of people. First the IRA for defecting, then the Buckman family and whoever is caught up with them.”

“Yaz thinks the wife found out. That her husband killed her father. And that he’s been cheating on her.”

“Kind of overkill for adultery don’t you think? To stage your own kids’ kidnapping to lure your husband into a trap to kill him? Why not just make things easier on yourself on and just cut his dick off? That’s what I’d do.”

“Wait…what?”

“I’d totally cut your dick off if you ever cheated on me. I wouldn’t even think twice.”

“Not that I ever would cheat, but seriously?”

“You cheat on me and you’re going dickless for the rest of your life, buddy. That’s just the way it is. None of this is making any sense. Or maybe it is and my brain is mush. Maybe my mommy brain is worse than I thought. So what you’re saying is that McMann took for an extraction and instead of actually extracting the girl, he fell in love with her and married. I’ll leave out the part that she was a kid at the time, because…ewwww…”

“You’re right. It does make what happened between us seem sane,” Tyler concludes.

“…he takes the money for that but never gives her back to her father. He starts taking jobs and the money for those jobs but never actually does anything. Pissing off a lot of people, including her old man, in the process. He puts a hit out on his father in law…or does it himself…the wife eventually finds out and mixed in with the knowledge he is screwing around, she goes off the deep end and seeks revenge.”

Tyler frowns. “I feel like I need to write this down. Should I be writing this down? I’m starting to confuse myself.”

“She goes totally Mommy Dearest and uses the kids in the most horrific way possible in order to lure her husband in and kill him?”

“Yeah…that’s pretty much it.”

“Tyler…this is messed up…way beyond anything I’ve ever heard of. Please tell me this is the weirdest shit you’ve ever dealt with.”

“I’ve seen and heard some weird things, but not this level of weird.”

“I feel like I’m eating at the buffet of strange,” she sighs. “So why is the IRA involved in all of this?”

“They’re not. That’s what whoever is doing this wants us to think. They didn’t claim responsibility and they say they had nothing to do with it. Whoever is doing this, wanted us to think that so we’d stir up a whole lot of shit with the IRA and take the heat off of them.”

“You realize what could have happened? Had you just gone in on McMann’s word and tried taking out the IRA? Jesus Christ, Tyler. You would have started a whole bunch of shit for no reason. And you would have not survived that mess. And how did you get those pictures? Someone showed up at the hotel?”

“Some girl. Showed up at my door at in the middle of the night. Claiming she worked for the IRA.”

“And you don’t think she did?”

He shakes his head. “She works for the wife. I’m sure of it. She said that ‘they’ know who I am. They know my name, the things I’ve done, why I’m here. She said they know everything about me. Including about my wife and my kids.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “That’s why you had Nik come to the house with those guards. Because of a threat?”

“I don’t think it’s a legit threat. It’s probably just to scare me off. Get me off their scent. They think I’ll head home and forget all about what’s going on over here.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe we should go home.”

“We can’t. I need your help. I can’t find those kids without you. I don’t care about the wife. I don’t care about McMann. They can kill each other for all I give a shit. It’s about those kids.”

“You’re going to extract them, aren’t you.”

He nods. “I need your help. I can’t find them without you. I need you to find out where they are.”

“And you honestly think I can do that? That I can find my way to these people and make them talk?”

“I don’t think you can. I know you can.”

She gives a small smile and reaches out to push his hair from his eyes. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

“If anyone can get the information, it’s you. I need you to do this, Esme. I need you to help me find those kids.”

“Okay,” she says with a nod, and then leans forward to kiss him, a hand on the side of his face. “Where do we start?”

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