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@beatingheart-bride
"Oh, I dunno," Randall ventured to say with a tiny smile, saying, "I, uh...I got a good feeling that, if you went back and picked it up again, it'd be like old hat to you...like no time had passed at all."
He couldn't explain why he felt that way, he just did-it was so funny, how certain he felt of these little things when it came to Emily; he hadn't known her all that long at all, and yet, he felt as if he'd known her all his life. It was a funny feeling, strange, but altogether not unpleasant. It was sort of pleasant, really, feeling this sort of connection with her-he still couldn't decide if they'd met before or not, but even without that confirmation one way or the other, he quite liked that connection anyhow.
"I, uh, I went to the ballet only once-it was a field trip when I was a kid," he continued, volunteering this memory with warm cheeks and a flustered, fluttering heart. "I don't think I really understood what the show was supposed to be about, but...I do remember the ballerinas being very beautiful. The leader of them, the, uh...prima ballerina, is that it? She was the most beautiful out of all of them, all dressed in pink with a great smile and golden blonde hair..."
He trailed off, realizing how closely this description skewed towards his hostess-he probably had that ballerina to blame for his eternal affection for blondes...
#((exactly! she empathizes; but she would never cross the line that he does; feeling entitled to have a lover back))#((because of what they've been through: imhotep says for his lover's sake he was buried alive))#((and asks of her a moment of agony simply so that they can be together forever; and it really goes to show))#((how far he's gone and how much of his humanity he's undoubtedly lost over the centuries))#((to the point where she proclaims 'i loved you once but now you belong with the dead'!))#((emily has been in a very similar situation to him; but she's fortunately been able to hang onto her own humanity))#((and so she wouldn't feel so entitled as to force randall to become a vampire against his will))#((even with her own reluctance; it's still his choice at the end of the day; and i think she'll understand that))#((that he's making this choice of his own volition; and again despite that hesitance))#((i think she'll respect and appreciate him for being willing to make that choice!))#outofhatboxes#beatingheart-bride#V:Dark Shadows
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Bucky Barnes | Rebellion Series | Caution
Part one of the Rebellion Series
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Plot: By some miracle, you get saved from the consequences of your own actions. You’re reluctant to join a supposedly good cause. What happens when the good cause is not so legal? And what - or who - is your soft spot?
Warnings: Angst, fluff (?) and mentions of sex.
Words: 34OO
You have started shaking again. With every tremble of your body, the restraints around your legs and arms seem to tighten and you shudder even more at the awful memory of that feeling. It took weeks for the shaking to stop. Weeks of being locked up into this modern dungeon until you were nothing but silence and numbness.
You knew the rebellion could end in death, knew the consequences would be catastrophic, but at least you’d stood for something, fought for something. And you would choose death any day over the endless silence of this prison. You know for a fact that you’re surrounded by an ocean, but no matter how hard you listen, you cannot hear the wild sea crash. Can only hear the low hum of the air being circulated through your metal cell.
And today, approximately three months after the start of your sentence in the most secured prison on the planet, you have started shaking again. It can hardly be because today of all days, your brain has decided to make you go completely insane. That would be too random. Which means–
Your head snaps to the window, spotting the other cells. Empty. This floor is reserved just for you alone. Because apparently you’re too dangerous to interact with anyone. They even got machines bringing you your daily sustenance. An empty floor like every other day, yet something seems different. Something’s off.
A metal door flies through the middle of the circular space connecting all of the cells and you stiffen. You look at the ground again, keeping completely still. Maybe they don’t know that you’re here. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, they can’t get to you. Not again.
The destruction clangs through your body and you tremble violently, curling up as much as you can and staring hard at the floor. The cold metal ground blurs with images of the rebellion. The things you gave up, the energy your summoned and wasted, the people you lost. The blood, and pain, and screams and– and– and…
“She’s in there. Grab her and then we get out of here.”
“Steve, I–”
“And hurry up, we don’t have much time!”
Two combat boots step into your vision and the stomps echo in your head, booming you back to reality. But not quite. Your eyes vibrate with fear and you swallow the nails in your throat. Then a pair of knees appear in front of you and a black gloved hand reaches forward. It hesitates, then retreats. As if choosing not to touch you. Wise choice.
“Hey.” The voice is low. And smooth as liquor.
But you don’t look up, focusing on trying not to tremble more and taking the firm contraptions wrapped around your shins and forearms as the protection they now are. Maybe this is another nightmare. It’s different from the ones you usually have, but black gloves… They had black gloves, too. And those firm boots. They may have kicked you in the stomach with those boots once. You don’t remember.
“I’m here to get you out,” the voice speaks again and you can only listen to the tone of voice, the way it sends a shockwave through your body and lessens the violent trembles. “Look up for me.”
You ignore him and focus on your breathing.
“Is she coming?” That first voice. Impatient. Panting.
The male before you turns to the centre of the floor and gives a frustrated sigh, “She’s pretty out of it.”
Before waiting for the other man to respond, he turns back to you and studies you. Even though you don’t see him, his stare burns right through the flimsy clothes they put on you. He lets out a soft sigh and flips out a knife from the holster at his waist, still kneeling before you. You stiffen, preparing yourself for the sting at your throat as they finally decide to get rid of you, but he tries his best not to touch any bare skin as he saws through the materials binding you together.
The relief of pressure from your skin make you feel so uneasy, you nearly throw up, but a gentle hand covers your arm and you finally look up. Warm, dark blue eyes connect with yours. Below heavy brows and above the faintest cluster of freckles. His mouth is soft and pillowy and his bone structure is otherworldly symmetrical.
“It’s okay,” he tells you gently and offers you a smile that you can tell doesn’t come to him naturally. “Can you walk?”
He pulls you to a stand with a firm, but comfortable grip and you instantly stumble on your feet at the weight suddenly put on them. One arm flies around your waist and hoists you into his side as he catches your fall.
“Okay, okay,” he grunts with a gentle laugh. “I got you. Let’s get the fuck out of here, alright?”
Your throat feels like sandpaper as you hobble along with the wall of a male dragging you along, “Who are you?”
He spares you a brief glance and smiles once more, following ‘Steve’ out of the building and onto an air craft that is way too loud. “Bucky. We’re here to help you. Or I suppose you’re here to help us, little rebel.”
…
Steve gives Bucky a knowing glare, only breaking it by daring a glance at your bedroom door which you have been effectively hiding behind for weeks now. “You know I can’t go in there, Bucky.”
“You know I won’t let you,” Bucky answers drily with a shrug. As opposed to his best friend, Bucky hasn’t stopped staring at your door.
“You’re not even hiding your possessiveness when it comes to her,” Steve breathes through a laugh. That makes Bucky finally look at his friend.
“I’m not possessive,” he says matter-of-factly. He’s not even offended, just practical. “I’m protective. The last thing she needs is all of the nosy people in this tower swirling around her when she doesn’t trust a single soul.”
“Has she started to trust you?”
Bucky has to keep from wincing at Steve’s question, and he clears his throat. “Sure,” he lies.
If Steve caught the lie, he didn’t let on. It was as much of a dismissal as he was going to get. After watching his best friend walk off to do captain things, Bucky braces himself to step into your room. He has no hope that his interaction with you will be any different than the previous ones.
“Another day of convincing me to be your weapon?” you nearly snarl when he walks into your room.
If Bucky is entirely honest, he thought you would have turned into this damaged girl that would morph into a wild animal as you worked through what had been done to you. He didn’t really expect this perseverance and defiance from the woman he saved from that prison. But he supposes he should have seen that question coming. It wasn’t his best work; starting that day he saved you with all of the things you could be doing for them. Why they had saved you. Simply for their own gain. Or that is how you understood it, at least…
He has never been good with words. That has always been Steve’s thing. Bucky was reliable physically and he paid attention. He never had to use many words to make his point. Yet you keep asking these questions – rhetorical, he thinks – and you keep giving him this penetrating stare until he answers. Which is a sure way to make him fuck up, because how do people do that? Bring sensible thoughts into words and make it make sense?
Especially when the woman asking said questions is so damned… pretty.
“It’s time for you to get out of this room,” he tells you plainly. It seems the tactic of ignoring your questions is effective. It only took him six days to figure that one out.
He strides over to cross the room, not sparing you another glance in your chair in the corner, and rips open the curtains. The cat-like hiss coming from you has Bucky nearly biting back a smile. He turns and watches you stand from your chair, stalking over to him with your chin high and a scowl on your face. He raises an eyebrow with amused intrigue.
“And what, exactly, will I be doing outside of my room?” you ask.
He dips down slightly, but you keep the proximity. “Whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“If you don’t care, why hunt me out of my room?”
He shrugs, “Captain’s orders.” He isn’t entirely lying.
“Why isn’t the captain telling me himself?”
Bucky smirks and leans even closer, making you feel his minty breath fan over your face. “Because I’m the only one who isn’t scared of you.”
You snort at that and roll your eyes before breaking away from him. “I’ll get dressed.”
Bucky tries his hardest not to look too stunned as you retreat into the bathroom. A deep sigh leaves his lips as he paces through your room in wait for you to get ready. It takes a whole lot of effort to muster a smirk when it comes to his interactions with you.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he asks quietly.
Just as quietly, the house responds, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Has she asked for anything from you? To contact friends or family, or other information?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
“Does she have anyone left?” he tries, chewing his lip as he dreads the answer.
“Not that we’re aware. Mr. Stark had me run a background check, but she seems alone. No sign of anyone missing or deceased. No sign of a network at all.”
Bucky doesn’t know why that feels worse in his chest and he swallows. “Alright, thank you.”
A few moments later, you step out of the shower and find Bucky lounging in the chair he found you in, leafing through one of your books. Just as you’re about to check whether he has gotten his hands on one of your smuttier books, your eyes snag on the clothes laid out for you on the bed.
You pause long enough to make Bucky look up from the book. “Did you… Did you seriously pick out this underwear for me?”
Bucky eyes the lace panties dangling from your fingers and shrugs with a smirk. A smirk had never looked so enticing, but you sharpen your stare on him. “Do you prefer the grey, cotton ones in the back of the closet?”
You grit your teeth and scowl at him again, before morphing your mouth into a vindictive smile. “Why? Don’t you?”
His eyes dance at that. “Wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
And it’s the way he said it, with so much casual amusement and… promise. Heat rises to your face and you duck your head down. Snatching the clothes from the bed, you retreat back into the bathroom to get dressed.
…
The rest of your conversations had been purely functional as Bucky lead you down into the building where Steve was waiting. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s horrible attempt at hiding his surprise. Steve hadn’t seen you since the day they came to save you, he must have never expected Bucky to be successful in his retrieval.
Bucky also hadn’t missed the meaningful look Steve then gave him that indicated he tucked away some valuable information. The information being that if they ever needed to get you to do something, Bucky is the way to get you to do it. Why? Steve seemed to have his theories and Bucky didn’t like it one bit.
However, for now he doesn’t care. Instead, he sticks by you after you reluctantly agreed to join Steve on a walk.
Strolling down the path through the surrounding woods, Bucky catches himself bracing for a fight every time Steve gets a little too close to you. He doesn’t like it. The last time he was this sensitive to proximity, he had just ran from Hydra. He’s seen other traumatised people before, but this feels different. And instead of listening to your and Steve’s conversation, he tries to figure out what it is. He supposes it’s because you have no survival instinct. In the few videos he’s seen of your rebellion and the encounters he has had with you the past weeks, you see danger or conflict and run straight toward it. Nothing scared or cautious about you. It sets his nerves on edge.
Bucky is well aware of what Steve is telling you and he has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the careful way Steve tries to coax you into their plan, when earlier that week they had not been nearly as careful as they calculated how to get you involved. But even Bucky had to admit that they needed you – specifically, everyone who would follow you into the grave. When Stark had shown him the videos, he was perplexed as to how you got such a huge following when what you fought for was so terribly dangerous. But one look at those sharp eyes and one deep command from you, and Bucky had seen it. That unwavering will and that brilliant brain that was always calculating. Steve could learn a few tricks from you on being a strong leader. And considering Bucky wildly admires his old friend, that is saying something.
They need you. Bucky knows it, too. They need not just someone with great leadership skills and a loyal following, but someone that does it out of empathy for the people mistreated by the system. Because that is who they’re going to be fighting – the system.
Again.
…
“You haven’t said anything about what Steve told you,” Bucky says on your walk back to your room. The offer to escort you back to your room hadn’t been entirely selfless.
“I need to think about it,” you murmur, deep in thought.
Bucky suppresses his sigh of sympathy. They are asking you to join a cause you were so passionate about, and that after failing so miserably last time. He can barely imagine the things you must have witnessed and endured with your last upraise. How you had gotten so influential that the government decided to treat you like you were a super-human and punished you accordingly. You had been put in the same prison as Wanda. Wanda. That is how powerful you were.
“It can’t be easy to revisit everything after all that’s happened,” he resigns and you blink from your thoughts to raise your eyes to his face. You study him and it takes all of Bucky’s might not to shift under your assessing gaze.
Then you speak up, “I’ve always done the right thing. Steve knows I can’t walk away from it…”
Bucky smiles at that. “Just like him.”
Your eyes narrow at that comment, but Bucky finds no venom in the look. You continue, “Sacrificing my life for the cause was never an issue. But to lead others into that same fate again?” The guilt had eaten you alive. All those people that had gotten arrested, split up from loved ones, hurt– worse…
Bucky interrupts your thoughts before they get a hold on you by clearing his throat. “Tonight, we have dinner with everyone. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” Your heavy stare on him makes him quickly add, “Don’t give me that look. There will be no talk of overthrowing the government. Just dress fancy.”
The snort of a laugh that comes from you feels lighter to Bucky than he’d like to admit. And to ease the tension, he forces another smirk to his face. You narrow your eyes again warily, “What.”
He shrugs, turning to leave you alone at your door. Then he winks. “Let me know if you need me to pick out some underwear for you.” And then he’s gone.
Bucky hangs onto that cockiness all the way until dinner, where the entire group has showed up. Even Thor said he’d show up for a drink. Barton flew in from his family home to join the group as well. He remembers a time when he’d felt more than uncomfortable around this group of people. But so much has changed. They all saw him as a great asset to the team and even relied on him more and more to supervise the missions. He’s at home with them now. Heart swelling with affection, he listens to his friends – his family – laugh in the kitchen while they pour the drinks.
And then all of their faces turn into one direction, some of them pulling taut, few of them giving warm, comforting smiles. Bucky follows their gaze and it is like someone punched him in the gut, air whooshing out of his body. He doesn’t really know why – other than the obvious fact that you look ravishing of course. But he looks at you and clears his throat to welcome you to the group.
Natasha beats him to it though and it has Bucky’s hackles rising. She shoots him a knowing smile and then he backs off. His pride wounded like a cat booped on the nose. Natasha is good at it, charming people until they feel comfortable. Or take their pants off. But there’s an easy smile on your face – one Bucky knows is at least slightly forced – and you blend in with the crowd easily.
Suddenly, Sam’s at his side. “I know what you’re thinking,” he grumbles with his eyes on you and Natasha, followed by a swig of his beer bottle. “Those two together can only mean trouble.”
Bucky can only grunt in agreement.
…
“What on Earth are you talking about?” Natasha drawls with a guilty smile.
Barton shakes his head. “The poor schmuck didn’t stand a chance. There is no way you could have taken him if you hadn’t slept with him the night before.”
Natasha shrugs. “Look, a girl has her needs. He met them and the next day he met his fate.”
“Really, Nat?” Steve nearly cringes and Bucky reins in his laugh. ��The guy’s moral compass was straight from hell and you decided to sleep with him?”
Natasha barely manages to open her mouth before you decide to pitch in, raising a glass to her. “I get it. Terrible morals do add a little spice in the bedroom.”
Nat clinks her glass with yours and mutters a ‘she gets it’, but Bucky’s eyes are searing through your skin. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at such outrageous claims coming out of your mouth. There is nothing innocent about you. Good, yes. Innocent? No. Yet perhaps it isn’t ‘surprise’ that is warming his body from the inside out.
Conversation flows easily between the Avengers and the food Tony had made easily beats the Brooklyn comfort food Bucky usually seeks out. Cheeks turn rosy from the drinks, voices get louder, lights get dimmer. Bucky has to really look to be sure what he’s seeing. You, relaxed and happy. Such a stark contrast to the woman he found in the prison. No wonder you’re so good with people. People make you good.
He can barely manage his smirk however, when he notices the strain in your body to keep from looking at him. Why you are so adamant to avoid him, he can’t really tell. But this is now your weak spot, so he cannot help but tuck the info away for later.
The night carries on and everyone switches places, catching up on endless memories and adventures and being surprisingly considerate to include you in most conversations. Bucky ends up at the head of the table, you on the seat closest to him, both listening to Sam. You listen closely and Bucky can only assume you have some relief from being actively distracted from him. And being the arrogant bastard he knows he can be, he ‘accidentally’ brushes a knuckle over the back of your hand that’s resting on the table. He watches you stiffen and swallow, but like a true rebel, you show no other sign that it affected you.
A few more stunts like that had Bucky pressing his knee to your thigh under the table and it takes everything not to pull away from it. So you gaslight yourself to let the touch ground you. To absorb his warmth and relax even more into the touch. And if you guess it correctly, the way you respond to Bucky’s touch is not what he expected… So you find yourself having the upper hand again.
And if you’re going to join these people in their cause, what’s a little game with your menace of a saviour?
#oh my fucking god#im doing it#im posting a slow burn#with buckys pov for crying out loud#i am terribly sorry for being gone for so goddamn long im a busy woman#BUT quality over quantity amirite?#enjoy my lovelies and please let me know what you think#feedback does genuinely make me post quicker (i cant help it)#rebellion series#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#writing#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes oneshot#series
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You Promised..
♡♡-Request: Poly!Satosugu x reader. Reader and Satoru helped Suguru from spiraling down a dark path. Adopting the two girls, Megumi and his sister. Everything will be fine now, right?
Content: Death, possession, reader is in a relationship w/ gojo and geto, angst, crying, depressive themes
Wc: 1.3k
There was darkness. Thick black fog, hanging over his head, covering his eyes everywhere he went. Which direction should he take? Choices. Decisions. The roaring sound of the clapping mixed with the stream of shower water. His eyes blown wide, over and over and over. He couldn't get it out of his head. When did it end? Would it end?
"Suguru?" He blinked, eyes slowly coming into focus when he heard Satoru's voice. "You've been in there a while, you good?"
Was he? "Yeah…just thinking." Silence. Followed by more silence until Satoru spoke again. "Well, we're going to get lunch and hang out in her room today. Do you want to come?" Should he? Would they notice the dark swirling thoughts inside him? He shouldn't. He should. Decisions. What should he choose? "Yeah..I'll meet you guys there."
That night, he found out they knew; you and Satoru knew. The darkness that plagued his mind, you two knew and brought him out of it. There were tears, hugs, kisses…though it probably wasn't the time, everyone confessed that night. More tears were shed as you shared a bed, huddled together. And for once, Suguru didn't feel alone. Or lost. Drowning in that repetitive clapping. As time went on, he got better. The heavy bags under his eyes ceased, his smile came back again. You all became a couple; shared kisses and late night snuggles.
And when Suguru found the two girls in the village, he took them in. Appeasing the villagers. You and Satoru didn't mind, he'd taken in Megumi and his sister too. Everything was falling into place. He had a purpose again, something to strive for.
Years went by and he's in his early 20s, the kids had grown. Attending their regular school until they were old enough to join Jujutsu High.
You sighed, "I got an assignment. Said it's supposed to take four days." He listened to you say, placing a salty chip into your mouth. "Alone?" He questioned. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. You gave him a smile. "Yes. Satoru is off on his own and you need to be here for the kids." Your hand gestured to the two girls huddled at the table, doing their homework. "What if-" "It won't." You reassured him, pressing your warm palm to his cheek. Which he gladly leaned into. He nodded, moving to press a kiss. "Okay, but call us if you need help. I'm serious." You nodded. He should've felt at ease but his stomach still nursed dread.
Four days had gone by. The kids had made a welcome home sign for you; even if Megumi was reluctant.
Him and Satoru held it; a wide smile on Satoru's face and a small gentle one on his. It was cheesy. But the girls had insisted, saying they missed their mom. Suguru felt his heart clench when they said that you truly were good to them. And him, Satoru. "Any minute now!" Satoru practically vibrated, his sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. "Careful. She might mistake you for a puppy with those movements." He just stuck his tongue out, making Suguru laugh. The sound of his laughter was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
"Mom!" The girls yelled, running immediately to the door. "We missed you!" You stood there, eyeing them before tilting your head. "I missed you too…little ones (?)" There was a hesitancy in your voice that Suguru caught. Maybe you were tired? Bad mission? Many reasons, so he tried to push down his worry and greeted you with a smile. "Welcome home," Already, Satoru was the next to run over. Throwing his arms around your neck but you didn't immediately hug back. Or giggle, like you usually do. Was the mission that bad? He made a mental note to ask you later.
Days went by and you didn't change. Your usual perky and upbeat self was nonexistent. And he didn't mention it, with fear of coming off as rude, but…there was a smell. That only came from you. Like you haven't bathed. And he was sure he'd seen you go into the bathroom, claiming to go shower. Were you lying to keep him from being worried?
"Somethings off, Satoru." He sighed, resting his head on his back. Arms wrapped tightly around him. "I've been there, I think something really bad happened on her mission. I think she might be spiraling, like I did." The white haired man took what he said, nodding his head.
"Maybe we should go for a walk? Some fresh air? Maybe it'd do her some good. We could all go, as a family."
Suguru's heart fluttered at the word, he nodded. "I think that's a good idea." Satoru turned in his hold, pressing a kiss to his head. "Don't worry, everything will be okay. We're the strongest, remember?" Suguru nodded, placing his head on his chest. Basking in his comfort for a few moments before they sought you out.
"Hey…we're going to go for a walk. As a family, I think you should come."
You looked at him. He couldn't read your expression but you accepted. And that was enough to ease his worry, temporarily, offering you his hand. Even though you hesitated, he felt good about this. That this would be what you needed. That his silly, caring, loving girlfriend would come back to him. And he'd be the one to pull you from your despair like you had for him.
The air was chilly, nipping at his cheeks as you all walked. Your hand in his and Satoru holding his other. The girls tagging along behind, kicking rocks to one another. It was peaceful. Perfect. Suguru looked up to the sky, eyes closed slightly as he basked in the moment. Giving a tentative squeeze to both hands. And to think, he almost gave this all up. To go down a darker path.
"Oh! Kento!" He heard Satoru announce, and he slowly opened his eyes. He felt your hand twitch. Immediately, he looked at you. You were staring directly at Nanami, a blank look on your face.
Then slowly, your head turned to him. His eyes were slow to widen as he looked at you. This wasn't you. How didn't he notice? This was..
Snap.
Blood sounded in his ears as he heard the girls scream. Crying. And a pair of feet running towards him. Towards your now crumbled body. You'd broken your own neck-no, the thing inside you had. Leaving a wide, too wide, smirk on your face. Satoru held the girls, who kicked and screamed. "What happened to Mom?!" He was frozen in place. His hand is still in yours–now limp.
"-guru, -uguru, Suguru!" He blinked. His hand came up to press at his cheeks; tears lingered there. And he turned to Satoru. He was crying too. Arms wrapped tightly around the screaming, blubbering girls. Tiny hands reaching for their mom, for you. What was this? What happened? What? What? What? What?
His mind spiraled. He wasn't strong enough for this. He couldn't do this. Couldn't..couldn't…couldn't..
"Master Geto?" He blinked. "Yes, what is it?"
The curse user shook, pointing at the papers laid out on the table. "The plan?" He hummed, "Right. Got lost in my thoughts." He folded his hands under his chin. After you died, Suguru steamrolled down that dark path you and Satoru tried so desperately to keep him from. Apparently, you'd been dead the whole time, a curse taking over your body. Posing as you. Acting like you. But your body couldn't hold it. Starting to decompose, to rot. And when you'd run into Nanami that day, the curse decided it was no longer worth the trouble. Snapping your body's neck in front of everyone. It didn't matter that you'd been dead for weeks already. That day, to Suguru, everyone–you died.
Fate has a funny way of making sure its rules are followed.
A/N: This actually hurt to write, I could just be extremely attached, but. Hope you enjoy pain?
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen geto#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujutsu kaisen angst#geto angst#gojo angst#lovelies requests#gojo x reader#geto x reader#satosugu x reader#satosugu x reader angst
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Coming together with Richter
warning : obssesion, implied murder, bitting, blood, fluff/comfort
info : I've been wanting to write for Richter and Karlheinz again for a long time, even if the choice fell on Richter, I hope you enjoy reading :)
masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~
°The younger brother of the Vampire King a title he is reluctant to bear a title with shame he should bear. He should be at the forefront not his brother always in the shadows it was only time the white haired one stood in his shadow. But time left its mark and after years of fighting not only for Cordelia but also for the throne of blood and strength, the green shadow of the younger man seemed to fade from the dark world. But he was never gone - on the contrary, he had met her in the times of lurking. She was the most beautiful thing in this sinful world. A woman, a human woman with living blood and a beating heart.
°It seemed like a bad joke, a bad poetry band but no when his red eyes settled on her he saw how she lived her day completely unaware of the demons beneath her as she volunteered at the church. ,,Your naivety in a house of god without protection almost amusing” he mumbles to himself as the shadow disappears into the corner of the house to enter the house of a ridiculous god. But that was the easy part, it was easy to come to her at the altar, her fear and uncertainty in her eyes meeting his determined red ones.
°His cold hand reached out to her, her fear making her flinch, but she would not escape him, it was only the beginning. It was the beginning of a relationship that he would otherwise have to force her into because, like his brother Karlheinz, he would never get a chance to have her. ,,You are mine forever,” his voice echoed in the church before the green candles lit up with the movement of his hand and he enveloped her in darkness and she disappeared from the earth. He took her into his own realm where he would have her forever.
°This was the beginning of a secure id esihc like bloody ink that demanded new victims to be written again over the stories of time. Their fear, their caution, their tears and emotions, as human as they were, the vampire Adleige had to get used to controlling himself, ,,Such a simple creature it must be so hard to be not only in my presence but in the presence of the creatures,” his voice rang out, a hint of amusement and pity in it. Fear was something natural he had felt angts himself vampires beings of darkness felt emotions as well as humans maybe that was what connected him to her. Emotions.
°But even if the beginnings were difficult, he tried hard, he knew that hatred would only bring death in the end, which is why he took an example from the many books and writings he had read over the centuries. From initially simple gestures like having a conversation with her, making her understand how this really worked and even gently taking her hand as he led her around.
°Acts that had at least two consequences, one was that she didn't flinch away from him as quickly as if his favorite was beginning to understand that he wasn't going to kill her, wasn't a bloodthirsty devil simply out to murder. The other thing he saw in her eyes, besides fear, was a hint of curiosity whenever he used his skills. She asked him shyly over a little wine, ,,Can all...vampires teleport?” a question that every little vampire child knew was a question that made him smile, but it was a question that came from her heart with curiosity instead of fear and uncertainty.
°And he answered her questions with more and more joy. He handed her books and elegantly demonstrated his power, showing her what strength and power were, and then there seemed to be a moment when she came to him. The moon was bright in the sky and it seemed reddish he recognized the book in her hand but he still had to face her. ,,You can fly, can't you, Richter?” another simple question, but one that gave him an idea and he held out his hand to her. Which she took after a moment's hesitation, her human warmth meeting his dead cold, ,,I'll take you on a flight if you ask nicely,” he gave her the choice while a small smile played around his fine lips, the red of his eyes eagerly awaiting an answer and he heard her rapid heartbeat like a drum.
°Her reactions on an anatomical and human level amused and fascinated him so beautifully. The warmth radiating from her cheeks was high as she looked down and started to reply but his other hand gently gripped her chin and forced her to look up. She didn't pull away on the contrary she seemed unsure but no longer frightened, ,,Please Richter take me-me on a flight” she finally said and he released her for just a moment before lifting her up and hugging her to him and teleporting with her to the roof, ,,Good girl and now enjoy it” he ordered and hugged her a little more before they flew through the dark sky with its reddish glow and bright stars. It was that night when her eyes opened to him and she accepted not only what he was but also what he felt for her based on a love.
°From then on, their relationship took off, her curiosity about him and this world grew with each passing day as his obsession with her grew stronger. The more often his red eyes looked at her, the more often he saw how beautiful her mortality was, her fragility in the face of time, he wanted to make her his immortal. He wanted to share this life with her forever and wanted to show her everything. The nights were spent talking about past centuries, the wine flowed exquisitely and expensively in liters and he also saw how she adapted.
°Her old clothes became rarer and sleeker as she got used to the clothes of the night owls and it gave him the greatest pleasure when she presented him with the ring with the green gemstone inside which a drop of her blood shimmered, ,,I had it pricked...even though I was afraid the vampires would attack me because of the blood” she admitted and again had that almost cute look about her when he again saw her naive side to simply prick her finger only to have it end in such beauty. ,, They wouldn't have had a chance because I will stay by your side dear for all eternity” he reminded her and leaned forward slightly to place a kiss on the green nobles not knowing that he would give her one last kiss of death very soon.
°This kiss came faster than they both often found themselves in the training room at an early hour. She had watched him attentively at first when he practiced with the sword, seeing the look of fascination and love she gave him when he used his strength, showing his power while still maintaining an elegance...but also, as she quickly realized, actively seeking her approval. ,,Nothing surpasses your beauty with the blade in the moonlight judge,” she had told him and handed him a goblet of blood, a thing they knew was hardly possible a few moons ago.
°But love could do things that others could not. Her smirk was heard by him as she saw his embarrassed manner and yet how he enjoyed her approval and praise but that's what happened when a tree in the shadow of another only got sporadic light he smiled afterwards. ,,Do you want to try it, my dear? To wield the sword at my side,” he asked and held out his hand to her, which she accepted and he pulled her with him onto the open ground.
°The sword lay firmly in her hand entwined with his he was well aware of her nervousness at being so close to her, so agile, so intimate a moment like this was as their bodies pressed together and he showed her the movements with the blade that was almost too heavy for her to hold with one hand, ,,Your heart beats fast darling” he stated firmly and looked down at her the red of his eyes reddening with amusement and devotion as she nodded slightly knowing she couldn't hide it without it. He helped her make the move, turning the blade and swinging it up and down before spinning his darling around and pulling her into a deep kiss. The first kiss after a time when she lost her fear, a kiss without blood, a kiss of love but when his lips met hers again they were cold.
°Cold as a dead woman's, barely the breath of life in her, a broken sword blade beside her, his sword she trained with when Richter was away, which was rare, but apparently this rarity had become her victim. He didn't have to search he didn't have to find out the reason he knew who it was the six monsters had bitten her like a lowly animal she never was to him. ,,Oh my dear what have they done to you?” he asked knowing he would get no answer knowing the slight twitch of her fingers was like an answer she was still showing him words that she was there not gone. But the pool of blood was too big to be saved with human medicine. No, it was time that he took her heart, her humanity, and finally had her at his for eternity.
°Taking off his gloves he let his fingers wander over her cheek stroking away her tears pulling her ears body snaft up to him holding his strin against hers for a moment allowing her one more moment of pain before she would never feel anything like this again. ,,Forgive me for my love,” he murmured before his fangs dug into her body one last time, sucking the last drop of blood from her in a frenzy that threatened to make him forget himself when he could finally taste her. But he knew that if he didn't hurry he would lose her and with a bite of his own hand he would let his immortal blood drip onto her lips and give her the kiss of immortality that would draw her love and life into infinity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#diabolik lovers#diabolik lovers richter#richter sakamaki#richter sakamaki x reader#diabolik lovers richter sakamaki#diabolik lovers richter x reader#male x female#in a relationship
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⛈️ 1 cloudy day at a time ⛈️
part 43: corporate gray
summary: getting stuck in rain on campus that one faithful monday with a mild hangover is either the best or the worst thing to have happened to y/n... she has yet to decide, and so have the people that were involved.
pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader
warnings:anxiety / panic attack, depression and self-harming actions, (proofread but who is to say that it was done well lol)
word count: 7.6k
Day T-minus 8 days Time: 6 am. Weather: Overcast with a chance of rain and thunder.
With sluggish momentum, YN dragged her heavy body to the studio. Ignoring the ominous squeaking of the door, she stepped inside and there awaited her the piles of her priceless artworks.
A correct choice of words, without a doubt. That is how some would describe them… Yes, undeniably so. They will be sold for an obnoxious amount of money in less than 10 days.
Priceless.
And for a good cause.
For children!
For their future and dreams!
A worthy sacrifice for their future, yes, for the future of the faceless and nameless masses that deserve better, that need the help.
For their future.
For them.
She did everything in her power to help. Voluntarily.
Just as she was ordered to.
Artworks took up her whole room. Some rested in the corner of the room, covered with a white sheet, some were on the table, some leaning on the stack of her favorite pillows. Looking at the couch where she often slept while working the graveyard shift, she threw herself on the hard surface and lay down, her limbs limp like weeds flattened under the sole of a muddied shoe after a heavy rainfall.
She closed her eyes and listened to the never stopping symphony number 5, titled “The anxiety”. A messy tune lacking harmony and regular rhythm performed by her very own heart. Her muscles spasmed in the beat of her pounding headache. YN deepened her previously shallow breaths, unclenched her jaw and stretched out her fingers.
The start of her day weighed heavy on her chest, and nailed her to her warm bed. However, she had no choice but to get up. Rolling out of her comfort zone was never easy, but at least this time it did not result in any new bruises. She brought her hand up to eye level and looked at the fading discoloration on her wrist. A dry laugh rested upon her lips.
“It sure is taking its sweet time healing up, isn’t it?” She thought to herself. That nasty fall was a long while ago, and yet, it was still here.
Her chest fell and rose in mechanic sequences, those of a robot whose program went haywire and had to be reset.
Breathe in and breathe out… breathe in… and… out…
She continued like that for a while. Playing engineer wasn’t easy, it wasn’t even pretend.
The ticking of the clock drowned out by the distant cracking of thunder.
1,
2,
3,
4,
5,
6,
7,
8,
9, 10, . . .
.
.
15!
The crack of a thunderous whip jolted her senses awake.
And it came again, without a warning.
The thunder roared like an enraged father, with disappointment in the tail ends of his voice. The storm had yet to start in the city, but the announcement of its upcoming presence still sent a chill down YN’s spine. It was far, so far that it could barely be heard, but with YN’s heightened senses she could foretell when it would start pouring and drown any arrogant fool who dared step a foot on the streets that were not meant for them to walk on.
Reluctant, YN looked up to her window. It was dark outside. Yes, dark clouds usually did signify rain…
Good eye you’ve got, YN! Good job!
Even you rolled your eyes at your own dumb observations and questions…
Just look at how gloomy the sky was presenting itself to be these days… It didn’t even try to hide its sadness anymore… Like a heavy burden weighted down on the shoulders of the feeble men, like the dread has grown a body, limbs and head, like its greedy eyes have swallowed up the city whole. When was the last time the sky greeted us with the clear blue’s smile instead of the gray dull’s numbness?
When did it start to pour like a dam that burst when it rained?
When did the unrelenting typhoons start to harry the lands of the bountiful harvests?
Since when has it become a barren, emotionless wasteland?
The daylight barely peered through the window into the studio. The shadows were too harsh in here, perhaps it was a wise decision on YN’s part to stand up and turn on the lights. Nobody wanted her hard work to go to waste because she tripped on something and broke a painting or two. Sure, she could also have hurt herself, but that’s of insignificant importance anyway. What was the worst that could happen? Going to the hospital to fix her would cost less than having her paintings ruined.
So many would suffer if that happened…
YN swept away the rain, the one she didn’t pay attention to until this moment, one dripping down the corners of her eyes. She exhaled the last hiccups of resistance and finally started packing the paintings. Or so she intended to…
She stared at them, her hands tingled as her eyes slowly lost focus. Her eyes darted across the room, her body didn’t know how to move. Her shoulders tensed up, fingers dug into her skin… Her mind was blank, a crumpled piece of paper on the side of a trash can that someone threw aside. A failure of an attempt at ambitious work…
Where was she supposed to put them? Or how was she supposed to pack them?
Her mind screamed at her to move and do something… but how… and what was she supposed to do?
They didn't tell her that!
No!
She… she didn’t know that! She only knew that the paintings were going to be transported to the storage room…
And today… in a few hours from now…
As YN’s knees buckled down and she contracted into a little protective shell, she screamed. Not loudly. No. Her voice was gone from all of the crying she did. It was a dry desert and her… a sinner left to search and traverse the lands, perched without any salvation in sight.
She crawled underneath the table, hid like a little child playing a game. YN hid away to the best of her possibilities. The burdens she must carry wouldn’t find her there… correct?
Frustrated, she leaned on the front leg of the table and faced the cracking wall.
Cracks?
No, they moved around erratically. No! Those were bugs!
She flinched away and bumped her head into the table with a loud thud, her scream barely louder than a whisper. She tightly shut her moist eyes… With deep breaths, choking on air, she tried her best to compose herself. She must have coughed out a part of her soul at that moment, if she had any left.
The desk was right to the wall, and no light reached her. It was dark. Too dark.
She must have imagined things… surely…
Scared, she turned around and crawled away from the cold exterior wall, careful not to hit her head again in the process. Now, she, just outside of her haven, carefully observed the room from this angle.
It was small. Small small small small small!!! oh so small! It was suffocatingly small!
Nowhere to hide!
It was spacious, big enough for all her dreams,
But it was small small small small small!!!!!!!
From this angle, she only saw the mountains of her pain and horror taking up her space.
She rocked her body in repetitive motions, her head knocked on the table from time to time, each hit stronger than the last. Her actions had no clear sign of stopping soon. There was no room for her to lean her head comfortably.
She was too big for it.
There were paintings on the right.
But they were not hers…
There were paintings on the table above her.
But those, too, were not hers.
Not hers, not what she wanted to paint, not her dreams.
Not the fruits of her self expression!
Nothing inside this room was hers beside these broken tears and silenced screams that did not stop.
Where did she begin? What was she supposed to do? She wasn't told what to do, oh god, what was she supposed to do then?!
She didn't know, didn’t know… she just did not know!
For fucks sake, was there anyone who could just tell her what she needed to do?!
As time passed, the light warily peered through the curtains and looked kindly at her. It pitied her, as she bowed her head down, pitied that her head felt heavy, that her hands felt rigid like a pair of chiseled marble stones, precious and easy to break. Her skin was hers as much as it was borrowed on a loan.
When will the blood debt be cleared?
How much longer did she need to spread herself thin?
Would it only stop once she was left with crumbles of her own identity, one that does not rely on her relationship with the LN family?
Would the debt be considered settled once and for all, once she was no longer a part of this earthly realm?
What a cruel usurer family can be.
YN let out a broken laugh, sniffling and swallowing her tears.
Even meek sunshine dared to pity the bruised heart YN carried within herself. Its callous warmth caressed her paintings, zoning in on them, it whispered for her to gather herself. It peered through its tick shackles of gray to remind her… time is all encompassing. Time brought both a slow decay of the soul and body and the thawing of an ice cold heart. It passed slowly, yet fast. It killed with the same hands it healed…
On her knees, and slowly on her legs, YN’s hands supported her body weight on the table, and once more, she raised her gaze to look outside. The darkness of November night quietly switched places with the rising morning Sun. Undeniably, the sand in the hourglass still flowed out even if you could not see it because of an obstacle. And no matter how she spent this time, it still didn’t stop for her to wallow in self-pity.
YN’s fingernails gently scratched over the freed surface on the wooden table. A bit of hardened yellow and green paint to the side. It was smooth, her nails glided over it. She pricked on it, scraping away the residue. Her mind steadily calmed, still it ran a mile a minute trying to figure out the course of her actions.
Maybe she could organize them? Yes, that's what she decided to do. YN left real packaging to the professionals. Surely, she was mistaken. She couldn't possibly be responsible for that serious of a task. Yes! Silly YN!
So she did, she went and organized them… By size. Some canvases were small, some were a lot bigger. Wow, she really painted that many in that little amount of time? Our YN is such a genius!
Perhaps, she thought as she patted her right biceps, perhaps she should take a picture of them. Yes, she should do that before she stacks them up or anything!
Yes, YN! That's a brilliant idea! You did right by making a mess out of the already organized paintings, just to take pictures that you’ve already got!
As much as her inner voice nagged her for making a mess, yet again… she knew that these pictures were different. These were the last images of them, and in these pictures...
You, too, were in these pictures, YN.
These were not pictures taken solely for the purpose of marketing.
Now that you took all of these pictures, you could organize them again. You weren’t doing this to delay the inevitable. No, that’s a silly thought.
Come on, our precious masterpiece making machine, you knew you needed to pack these things. You wasted your priceless time again, silly! Why did you do that?
Yes, organizing these soulless paintings was as tedious and tiresome as making them was, but it still needed to be done?! You successfully did the first part, you didn’t complain and you didn’t stop, so why bother now?
The faster you finish everything, the faster those 8 days would come and the auction would come to pass… and you’ll be free…
Silly, YN!
So stop wasting your damn time and go do something more productive and useful!
Damn!
YN sighed once again and fell to her knees. Slouched, a lopsided smile graced her face. A madman’s smile, a man who was going through a breakdown… A burst dam of suppressed emotions and opinions…
She bit the inside of her cheek and used the back of her hand to swipe away the beads of sweat that formed on her face.
Her hands went up in triumph, the knuckles turning completely white.
“I did it! I.. I’m done!”
What a crazed laugh was that, YN? Like cracking of the boards in an old decrepit house that barely held itself together, like wind that howled through and rattled the windows open and shut.
Perhaps, you found today to be a dreadful day, and not completely the same as the rest. Yes, this Thursday was different than the last, and still… It was like any other day.
But her questionable enthusiasm didn’t last for long, as her phone had reminded her that…
At some point this Thursday, she had to talk with her father. And that time came sooner than she wanted. She refused to talk over the phone, and now, she had to go and have this conversation face-to-face with the devil himself.
It was 7 o’clock sharp; her phone rang. It was none other than her father’s main Secretary – Secretary Park. A meticulous man always in gray. He was terse, but polite, and always on time.
The terror set in her eyes, it watched as the sound coming from her phone echoed across the room like the bell at an empty cemetery. Death grimaced at her trembling form, it wasn’t in her presence and yet… A feeling that fate worse by tenfold awaited her if she picked up the call.
Her hand reached out for the cursed object, tepidly; if she picked it up, she’d have no peace for the rest of her days.
Silly, isn’t that your current predicament?
And so, she picked it up.
After a few morning pleasantries exchanged between them, an awkward silence ensued. Odd, as Secretary Park is not one to allow such mistakes to happen. Although he didn’t talk pointlessly, he still said enough… But this, YN noted, was not like him.
“Secretary Park?” YN called out to him, confused.
“I apologize, Miss. There seems to be a problem on our side. Give–“ his voice sounded strained, “give me a second to take a look at something.”
“Oh… Sure.”
YN played with her cuticles as she waited for him to speak again. The shouts from the other line broke the silence.
“They sure have a lot going on…” She thought to herself as she bit down on her lips… and at the rate she was going, she was sure to leave wounds.
“9 am.” Secretary Park spoke out of nowhere, almost scaring her silly. “I will be waiting for you in front of the art department building.”
“Alright.”
“A truck will come and pick up your art and transport it to the storage.”
“Yes… I was told as much.”
“Miss YN and I will go to the company… Driver Kim will be driving us there...” He wasn’t talking to her, his voice sounded far.
“Mhm…” Still, she responded.
“Oh… Miss YN, is that alright with you?” His gruff voice shook her up.
“Yes…” YN’s voice trailed off…
“Good!”
The exchange ended with him confirming the time and place with her again. Although he didn’t say anything to warrant such a thing, to YN, his voice sounded almost pleading, as if he begged her not to cause trouble, to make sure the things went as they were supposed to.
As the line went dead, YN was reminded how much she disliked the circumstances she was in. The lack of control of it all, really. There was no moment where she had forgotten about it. She sat down on the sofa and leaned her head back, her eyes focused on the blank ceiling…
What was she supposed to do for the next two hours? She gripped her phone tightly; turned it on and off multiple times… as if the time refused to pass when she needed it to…
She opened her private twitter account and thought to message her beloved anonymous friend.
“But, it’s so early though…” They wouldn’t respond, so what’s the point?
She couldn’t bother others, she didn’t want to be a burden to anybody…
Ah.. maybe…
But then, as if “Bubba” could read her mind, she got a message. What an interesting telepathic connection these two shared.
It was a one of those over the top pictures wishing her good morning, as well as a text message that read:
-[To the beautiful soul and my dear friend, I hope this day treats you better than the weather outside.]
The irony.
And another… few…
-[I have classes early today… and honestly, im not that excited to go to class.] -[i dont wanna go, Moonie… can you go instead of me :(] -[it’s that weird professor again] -[it’s been a while since i heard from you, i hope you’re doing alright~ text me when you get a chance~] -[you know i loooove you more than anyone else in the world, right? youre my ride or die boo, so tell me when we are jumping, dont jump without me okk?]
And yet again, another flirtatious and goofy meme followed after that… weird string of good morning messages.
A crack of thunder brought YN back to reality.
Ah, he remembered.
She responded to his messages simply, wished him a good morning as well, wished him a good day too, despite the obvious lack of hope he had for his classes…
He responded fast, asking her one too many questions for her to process and talked about one too many things for her to even try to understand. She responded simply, but it was enough.
Soon enough, she was doom scrolling on her social media as the rain poured outside.
“Ah, he didn’t forget to bring an umbrella, right?” YN shook her head as she thought to herself. No way.
She stretched her hands in front of her before retracting them back, and once more, she pulled the rest of her body close to her chest. She leaned her head on her knees, fearful of the nightmarish chime of her smartphone. It was going to ring soon. She was soon to be on her way to the place she wished she never had to step a foot in. A place where dreams are supposed to be made, and yet so often die a tragic death, never to be reborn.
She looked towards the door. This scene is so similar and yet so different from the pleasant night with Jeongin. Alas, with the break of dawn, dreams disappeared and reality dragged its ugly ass in. Only nights are made for pleasant things, and the days, they leave a bitter taste in your mouth. All of this would be easier to bear, if only Jeongin was there with YN, too. In person. The talk with her internet friend did help a bit, but nothing beats the real deal. At least, with him here, she could have cried in his arms. Surrounded by his warmth and pleasant caress of her back…
Companionship might not solve all of her problems, but having someone to share this pain with, it certainly would make the weight easier to bear. Pain is a lot easier to deal with when someone is there to hold your hand. A lot better than suffering with your lonesome…
She really missed her… friends…
Like a preprogrammed machine, the phone rang at exactly 9. Just like Secretary Park promised it would.
YN looked at the phone in her hand for a moment and wondered if it would've been alright to pretend she never heard it, to pretend they did not have a conversation this morning. She sighed deeply, swallowed the words she wished to say and begrudgingly picked up the call.
“Miss YN, I am waiting for you in front of the building. Are you inside?” His voice was stern and yet mellow.
“Mhm…”
“Will you come down so that the workers can come collect the painting?”
“What…” YN’s voice was barely audible… “Are you saying… I was supposed to pack them myself?
“Oh, Miss YN!” You imagined that he got strange looks from the passers-by as his voice went an octave higher… if there were any around. “For goodness sake, of course not! That would be too much trouble for you! We have professionals who can take care of that.”
“Ah.. I assumed…”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“That was silly of me.” You hoped Secretary Park couldn’t pick up on your sniffling. Your nose was still a bit runny. Hopefully, your eyes weren’t too red.
“No, Miss.”
There was a slight pause, and YN picked herself up from the floor – that she somehow found herself on yet again – and shuffled across the room.
“Will you be coming down now?”
“Mhm!”
With such short answers, there was no way for her voice to break. Though, that did not mean that it covered the sadness in her voice. It was still present to those who cared to listen.
YN came down and exchanged greetings with Secretary Park. He wore his trademarked gray suit, just like he always did. And YN, too, wore yet another shade of gray. Funny how things turned out sometimes, isn’t that right? She didn’t even intentionally pick it… it just sorta happened. Perhaps this was the frequency the network emitted and YN connected to the same wavelength… and if that was so, why was the world of creativity so dull?
While YN was pondering the meaning of her useless life and tried to keep a good manners about her, the workers booked to her studio. While she wishfully looked back, Secretary Park looked on at her with a look of expectation.
“Miss.” He cleared his throat. “We should get going, Mister L/N is waiting for you.”
YN nodded at his words.
“He… freed up 2 hours for you.” He looked quite apologetic about the whole situation and that made YN too uncomfortable about what she was about to say.
“But… I wanted to lock the door behind…” YN couldn’t look him in the eyes as she spoke. “Erm…. I guess I should’ve stayed on the studio floor then…”
“Nonsense…” He fidgeted with his cufflink. “Then, how about this, Miss?”
He started walking towards where the car was parked.
“I will stay behind. I’ll lock the door… and haul back a ride to work…?”
“But that would be too much of an inconvenience, Secretary Park!” YN chuckled through the discomfort.
“It’s part of my job! Nothing for you to be worried about.”
With staggering steps, YN followed Secretary Park and was successfully transferred into Driver Kim’s care. Secretary Park opened the door for her and reassured YN again that he would not forget to lock the door. He promised her that he would hand the key over to her as soon as he could.
She couldn’t help but worry. Her safe space was currently being invaded and there was nothing she could do to stop the siege. Alas, her work, hobby, life… all of her was already occupied… Was this move from the enemy’s side really that surprising?
No, YN… no it wasn’t.
The ride was smooth, there was nothing YN could complain about.
YN looked outside the window, watching the building pass, the monotone monochromatic view surrounding her. The dreariness of the sky contrasted by the flashing billboards. That one on the left was that one actress that’s been signed with your father’s company for years, that other one on the far left building was the most popular member of the girl group that debuted 3 years ago, and that one was…. So many people, all of them were the ones that were affiliated with your fathers company. So many people were living their dreams because they chose the “right” company. They grasped the right opportunity. Perhaps they wouldn’t have shone as bright if they had chosen a different path, right, YN?
Even now in this moment you thought about the betrayal you felt from someone you held close to your heart. You started to believe it was ridiculous that you still felt betrayed, but you still did. You had no right to, you even gave them your blessing… and yet you still did. You wondered if you should feel this way, these are their lives, they are allowed to do what they want and with whom they want and yet. You hoped that this situation would not happen. Were you selfish to feel this way? Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes yet again, but you swallowed your wounded pride and swallowed the lump in your throat. The fingernails dug deep into the skin of your palms, hands stretched and contracted, frustrated that there’s nothing to grab on. Nothing to tear apart the way your soul wishes to burst out of your chest and make your skin bleed with relief. You squeezed the door seat, feeling the cool leather underneath your fingertips. It was slippery, your fingers glided over it. You slowly scratched it, not leaving any marks, only a comforting sensation to calm your fried nerves. This didn’t hurt right… You sighed deeply, throwing your head back, looking up to the roof of the car. It was spacious and yet still so suffocating. You spaced out looking at the roof as the neon lights bounced off your skin. There really are a lot of billboards around here, huh? And the people on them were the talents from your fathers agency.
They were the only light that illuminated this uninviting gray sea. The only paragon of humanity. And yet, all of that too was the same. Same smile, same eyes, same dreams, same same same same… Everyone entered different, but exited the same, battered and broken. Compromised dreams and lives that many envied – the only thing they had.
The ride was quiet, only your sighs and the soft morning music were heard. Driver Kim focused on the road ahead of him, which allowed you to wallow in self hatred to your content. No words were exchanged between the two of you. You occasionally moved your unfocused eyes to look in front of you, but there wasn't anything you saw. Nothing to be seen except the morning rush. Yet another congestion in your life. Nothing to see here. Not even the pitying glances Driver Kim gave you through the rear mirror. This wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way, after all, he worked for your family for quite a while now. Even he felt pity for someone of your status.
After a while, YN had arrived on the battlefield.
Driver Kim’s voice woke you up from your daze, the older man called your name a few times before you noticed that the vehicle had come to a stop. You bid him your farewells as you got out of the car. With one last nod, you took hesitant steps towards the building. The guard at the front door recognized you, bidding you hello.
He looked at you with pity.
He opened the door for you. You thanked him and continued onwards. You stopped in the lobby, it was decked out with the artist's photos. It was massive.
You steadily approached the front desk, and asked them to inform your father that you had arrived. You went through the motions, not thinking, just navigating the space using just your muscle memory.
They, too, had pity in their eyes. They shouldn't, but they did. They, too, saw it as you fiddled with the hem of your jacket, folding it and straightening it as you waited to hear the confirmation that you can go upstairs.
From the Sun, to the Moon and stars, to the birds in trees and ants on the ground, you see pity everywhere around you, YN. They see how unfair this is, fair Lady, why are you angry at them for noticing so?
As a kid, you spent a lot of time at the company, but how times have changed. You’d come visit your dad while he worked, sometimes even talk to some of the stars, the staff loved you too. But now, he was no longer your dad. Father was barely a title you liked to leave your lips either. He barely counts as a fatherly figure, after all you too were an employed talent being exploited for his means. Though your work brought him prestige and the public’s goodwill and no money…
You loved painting, and your artworks were going to a cause you believed in, but you felt dirty, borderline evil. There was no sincerity in your actions or concern. It was forced. These works were like rotten bread in a welfare stand. You ate poison while giving them the fresh loafs. With each bite you grew sicker and no doctor could help cure you. But there's nothing you could do to prevent this illness either, it's the only source of food you’ve got.
The elevator chimed open… you’ve reached the final destination. You passed by some trainees talking, they moved aside as you walked past them, immediately shutting up. They were talking about 3RATCHA… However, some of them were displeased with the quick ride to the top they got, and so the guy who recognized you shushed them up. You gave them a curt nod, and continued on your way. There’s no need to talk with them, or express how you felt about it.
A secretary waited for you in front of your fathers office. She introduced herself as Secretary Kang and told you to wait for a second, as your father was currently on a phone call, and that she was going to call you in as soon as you could come in.
Sitting on that couch felt like a lifetime had passed. Everything was a chic black and white, with posters from the talents being hung all over the walls. Secretary Kang sat quietly at her desk, typing away about who knows what. The magazines on the table looked nice. They had the number one singer’s face on their cover… what else... Erm, there was a flower pot next to the ginormous window overlooking the city… What else was in this room? There was a bookcase next to that flower, right in the corner… Oh god…
As your eyes darted across the room, your hands played with the zipper on your jacket, you made eye contact with the employee... She had a slightly annoyed look on her face, her brows gently furrowed. You gave her an awkward half smile and looked away, not noticing that she wanted to say something.
The floor was nice, polished tiles… if someone walked too fast they would most certainly slip and fall and break their back and, and, and… and… your mind continued to spiral down. You didn't sleep well last night and your mind, anxious, continued to take you to the most awful of places. The ticking clock continued to pester, just pointing out the passage of time.
Things will get better once you're free, right? You will be free, right?
You have to admit to yourself just how much you dreaded talking to your father. How afraid you are to face him.
You wished that it would turn out he was too busy to talk to you and that you wouldn't need to actually sit down face to face with him and have this uncomfortable conversation. Maybe, then, in the end, you would be allowed to just walk in with them in the auction… or better yet, maybe he'd agree that you didn’t need an escort. Why did you need one in the first place? And then too, if you were going to come in with one, wasn’t picking Han Jisung a bit risky? For his career sake? Ah, what a great point to bring up without having to say anything about the real reason you don't want to walk with him, talk with him or be anywhere in his proximity.
God fucking damn it, how long do you need to wait for? Again… you have to wait for him yet again.
You tried asking, but the poor Secretary Kang didn’t know when the phone would end. It wasn’t a planned one after all.
Frustrated, you took off your jacket, putting it on your lap.
"Mr. L/N will see you now."
A century long wait for your sentence finally came to an end. Now, the Judge, the cold-hearted businessman, was ready to announce the punishment.
Stubborn muscles not following the wishes of their owner, the feet dragged across a 10 steps long corridor riddled with the death traps.
It was fine.
It was going to be fine.
The secretary knocked on the upholstered mahogany, announcing your presence. A gravelly voice resonated from the other side of the wooden shield, inviting you in. You didn’t dare step inside of the enemy lair, but as the secretary did as she was instructed to, you had no time to run away.
Reluctantly you stepped over the threshold, with careful steps. The man stood at the back of his office, his back turned to you.
How welcoming.
YN swallowed the rising lump in her throat. One of her clammy hands trembled at her side, the other held onto the jacket as tightly as it could… What would she do if she had to release her aegis? Only the stubborn thunder and pointed voice of a distant man standing not that far away from her roared, her voice quiet as a mouse.
“Sit.” He said, still not looking at you. His head held high and arms behind his back.
The black leather couch was still the same as the last time you’ve been here. You put the jacket beside you, the clinking noises of the zippers being the only noise in the room.
Your eyes were pointed to the coffee table in front of you, a rather empty sight. The dreariness of the color choices of the walls weighed heavy on your mood that was already in ruins. Perhaps, it is that man’s aura that’s suppressed you and broke all of the boundaries you built. His footsteps nearing you rang like those of a killer approaching his victim.
But he was just your father, and you his daughter.
He sank into the couch opposite you, his gaze intense enough to drill through an impenetrable rock. Frozen and unmoving as you were, you might just be one.
You didn’t move a finger, you didn’t say anything, you stood your ground on everything he’s ever asked of you, never changed your opinions.
You might have been a stone but across you sat water, unrelenting and persistent. If water tried hard enough and for long enough, it too could break the unbreakable.
Which happened… again and again.
You faltered against his authority many times.
He never listened or quit, always finding a way to go and make you do what he wanted, and you broke into a million pieces every time trying to fit into places he designated for you.
“I’ve gone over the inventory again –” He stopped mid sentence, whipping his head towards the desk. “Do you want any tea?”
You just shook your head, but he scoffed and narrowed his eyes.
“No… thank you…”
“Alright!” He cleared his throat and continued, his tiger-like roar of a voice still not allowing you to relax. Every syllable he uttered instilled fear into your heart, you even forgot to think.
“As I was saying, you really gave it your all, YN!”
His laugh stung, it prickled your skin like sharp needles. You nodded through the pain, to everything he said.
“Every single one of them!” He clasped his hands. “Truly, works of a genius!”
“I… did… the best I could.” If he wasn’t going to move his gaze away, you would.
He continued to sing praises about works, surprising you with pointed comments and things he noticed in them. But as he marveled at the details and prices they’ll fetch for, you noticed one thing that did change in this room.
It was gone.
The painting you made at the tender age of 16 was gone, made back when some love and yearning for approval still resided in your heart.
Your eyes lingered above him for far too long for him not to realize why your shaking eyes stabilized, why a flame ignited and blazed the top of his head.
“I know how valuable that piece is.” You don’t believe he does. “It’s one of the early masterpieces of a genius artist! I can part my hands with it if it helps the children!”
Oh, how the unconsidered men howled in content. How they basked in the light of their own benevolence. Their saintly light blinded. In this dark room, his own ego shone the brightest.
“You plan on auctioning it off.”
“It’s beautiful! One of our investors is rather interested in it.”
You were stun-locked by the words that kept coming out of his mouth.
“The last time he was here, the man couldn’t stop going on about its artistry!”
“Fa–”
“He couldn’t believe you were just a high school student when you painted it!”
“Father…”
“If only the money wasn’t going to a charity…”
“FATHER!” Your voice rose an octave, words barely made it out of your gated lips. “You… you plan on auctioning it off?” Your face contorted in disgust and betrayal… yet another…
“Don’t paint me as a bad guy here, YN!” Your head fell into your hands, you reached out for your hair, your sleeves rolled up and exposed your forearms. Your locks of hair tangled between your fingers, and you resisted the urge to pull on them.
“You can always paint me a new one, right, daughter?”
You hated the self satisfied smile on his face, if you reached over the table, you might snatch it off.
“It’s not the same!” Your voice quivered, your sour mood prepared to burst into tears if this talk continued for much longer.
And you would just sell it off too…
“Yes, if you made it now…” He fiddled with his wrist watch. “It would be more valuable, ha, I can’t even imagine how much more it would sell for if you made it now!”
You jumped up, ready to question him why he’s selling it in the first place if he believes that it’s of lesser quality than ones you made now, but his void-like eyes remind you not to.
“This is not why I’m here.” Instead of sitting down you walked up to the window, tracing the raindrops rolling down the glass.
Metal echoed across the glass table, the careless throw made you flinch, your shoulders shot up to your ears.
“Right, my daughter…” When will this man stop his disgusting chuckling? “Pray tell, YN, who do you want to bring as your plus one?”
The race across the smooth surface in front of you continued on.
“Do I have to?” you mumbled.
The one on the left was faster than the one on the right…. Ooooh, it combined with another one underneath it and now it was even faster!
“No.”
You could see his nonchalant frame lean back onto the couch in the window. He spread his arms behind him.
For a man who never laughed, this change in his demeanor brought all of the rage inside your heart to the surface. You turned your head around, your eyebrows furrowed and footsteps hurried. You stopped right to the side of him, and leaned with one hand at the backrest of the couch, looking at him from the side.
“I don’t have to???”
“Yes…” His responses dragged on, he lazily smiled at you. “I thought about what you said, and you were right, YN... No need to come with Jisung.”
“I don’t need –”
“The trio is better presented as such.” He picked up the watch and marveled at its polished sheen. “A trio.”
“When did you figure that out, old man?”
He chuckled at your retort. “Last night?”
“Then –” You huffed, snorted, shook your head in disbelief. “Then, why make me come here and miss class!
“I said we were going to have this conversation eye to eye, YN.”
“Unbelievable!”
“And you aren’t even missing class right now. Do you even know your own schedule?”
Taking a few steps back, you slowly approached the opposite couch. His continued onslaught of provocations made your blood pressure spike. You aren’t sure how you responded to his words. You blacked out with wrath taking control over your mind.
You picked up your jacked and stormed out, the doors slammed behind you. It was right on time, as Secretary Park was encroaching where you stood.
You took the keys off him and walked away, pissed that the old fart wasted your time and didn’t even care how his unfeeling ass hurt you.
However, he stepped out and reminded you once again of just how much that statement rang true. How unimportant your feelings and opinions were in the face of greater things.
“Don’t forget to be ready on time!” He straightened the collar of his shirt and fixed his tie. “We need to be there early so we can enter at the same time!”
This old fox! What a sly fucker, forcing you to enter with your disharmonious family!
He made you forget that you didn’t even mind that option too much, if it was him or them.
Now that he’s said it as a matter of fact… and in front of so many people… how were you supposed to say no?
But it was just a few staff and some trainees that obviously wouldn’t say anything even if you ended up entering separately…
Oh no, this old man knew you wouldn’t let that happen.
You looked him directly in the eyes for the first time today and hissed through your fake smile. “Of course I won’t forget! This is our last entrance together as a family after all!”
Exchanging fake but knowing smiles with that old man, YN left, not noticing that those trainees at the side weren’t just any young men… No, those weren’t the ones YN saw in the lobby on her way here. No, that was none other than 3RATCHA who was about to have a meeting with the devil himself, to accept or deny their contract with the agency.
They were sat outside by Secretary Park who ran into them in the lobby. They sat right where you previously were and unintentionally overheard the tail end of your conversation with your father. Those walls weren’t nearly as soundproof as they needed to be. There were words of anger exchanged that you probably don’t even remember saying, but they made Chris uncomfortable, stung Changbin’s ears and made Han’s heart clench. They frightened more than the deafening growls of thunder happening outside these building walls.
Hearing YN’s words made Chris realize just how fearless you can be in the face of a man that has you in the palms of his hands, that strung you around like a marionette as you’ve once put it.
Seeing that pathetic play in front of their eyes made Changbin question where your dauntlessness had gone, he didn’t believe you’d just let someone push you around like that. Your eyes brimmed with tears and you retreated into yourself.
But Han noticed the bruise that peeked out on your wrist. You were hurt? How? What happened? He wanted to go run after you but he couldn’t, no, never. As Han Jisung felt guilt eating him alive, devouring him in bitter mockery. In the end, they were here to accept the deal, excusing their actions by believing that he’s already ruined what you’ve had and at this point it would be a waste not to take it.
Your messy silhouette disappeared from their sight fast. They barely had time to process all of the information in front of them before being called in for the meeting as the lawyers presenting both sides had arrived.
YN, you peerless actress… How well you played the role you were given. A supporting actress, the second place in everyone’s life and even your own. You were a passive participant of your own life, how shameful.
If you don’t like the merciless truth, then do something about it. Do you even dare to step outside your comfort zone? Until when will you continue to let everyone dictate your life. How will you defeat them when you can’t even handle me?
YN cried herself to sleep, her face buried deep into her fluffy pillow and her smothering blanket over her.
It was a cloudy day, and night, a slightly different Thursday. She held a conversation with her dad for longer than 5 minutes, even if it descended into a fight in the end.
Not a single star shone in the sky, just a distant thunder lulled the frightened heart to sleep and messages that popped up on her screen that lit up the room. One of them read:
[guess who got drenched like a fucking rat today?]
And many more covertly worried ones ensued…
Masterlist
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A/N: After a whole year and some months, we are back! For... one chapter :') So much has happened since then, both in my personal life and in the world... I hope I didn't miss anyone in the tag list, but in case I have, please remind me so that I don't forget to tag you for the next part... which I hope I'll finish faster than this one. Tbh, writing the whole chapter was rather daunting, even though I knew what was supposed to happen, I just wasn't sure how to express all of it correctly, and even this, I'm not sure is quite right. But, it's here! No moodboad for this part... even if it was the much needed... considering how long it took me post it hahaha In case it takes me a long time for the next one... you can check the moodboard / teaser for it (doesnt exist atm, a link will be added once i do make it) Anyways, I'll go back to my other WIPs now... hopefully I'll see you guys again soon :D The tag list is open, so if you want to be added, let me know :) especially since it takes me a while to update :))
#jeongin x reader#stray kids smau#skz x reader#yang jeongin x reader#skz fanfic#skz scenarios#skz smau#stray kids x reader#stray kids social media au#stray kids social au#stray kids angst#jeongin imagines#jeongin smau#1cdat#1 cloudy day at the time#stray kids scenarios#jeongin scenarios#skz angst#han jisung x reader
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reader x xander Hawthorne please 🥺
xander hawthorne x fem!reader
hcs about meeting & dating xander hawthorne
a/n: HI IM BACK! & tysm for the request!! xander is so underrated 👎 thats my bae fr🫶 currently working on other stuff but wanted to do this request bc i immediately had ideas for this!! i still don't completely get how school worked in the books, so if there's any wrong info please bare w me. if this wasn't what you had in mind feel free to send a specific request! again, this is kinda fic like but still calling it hcs.
word count: 7.3k
warnings: long backstory again, mentions of death, sexual themes. (pls lmk if you see anything else that should be labeled as a warning)
you’ve always lived on the middle side class of things. you were, thankfully, never poor, but also never rich enough where you could afford the more luxurious things in life.
your mother owned a small bakery 3 blocks away from your home, while your father worked for an electrician company. both jobs were stable enough to provide for necessities and both your parents enjoyed their occupations.
your parents always told you to never worry about money, but it still made you reluctant to ask them for things you wanted in fear they couldn't afford it. which is why you always tried to fix your problems yourself.
if you ever needed money, you would work for your mother at her bakery in exchange. while it was still your mom giving you the money, it made you feel better that you earned the cash.
you later found yourself working at the bakery even without needing money. you liked working with your mom, and it was fun to learn how to make different types of sweets.
at school, you were always a studious person. you worked hard to get a's and never anything below. you wanted to make your parents proud and feel as if their hard work toward the family wasn't for nothing.
you knew it would be practically impossible for your family to afford your college career without going into debt. so you always looked at scholarships and what they looked for in students, so you tried to make yourself appear well-rounded.
you joined student council, mathletes (although math wasn't your forte),library club, chess club,art club, film club, yearbook, culinary club, asl club, and a few others over the years. to say your schedule after school was always booked was a major understatement.
although your favorite was always the art club. you never even knew you had an artistic side until you joined. you explored it more with your membership and soon became quite good.
during your freshman year you took your first art class. you were excited to learn under a professional for the first time.
after a few lessons, your first major assignment was realism project; draw somebody in your everyday life.
you were both excited and a bit nervous. you had drawn people before, but never someone you knew, and you wanted to make a great first impression on your teacher.
you ended up choosing your mother as your muse; your father could never stay still enough to be drawn. it took a lot of long nights when your mother wasn't working to finish your drawing. you could've just taken a photo of her and drawn that, but you pushed for the extra mile of drawing her from real life.
you were satisfied when you finished, and your parents were in awe by your work - telling you over and over how talented you were and your teacher would surely be impressed. still, you were anxious about turning it in the next day in class.
your assignment was a big hit with your teacher, you got a perfect A+. she commented on your beautiful handiwork, noting that your drew from real life. she also advised how you should consider switching to an advanced class since it was obvious you were already beyond a beginner course.
you wanted to decline at first, being intimidated by the thought of being in a class with others who were just as good or better than you - but your gut instinct told you it was the right choice to make.
it proved to be right because by the spring you were already one of the best in your art class. you expanded into all types of art: abstract, realism, expressionism, digital, etc. your favorite and most notable works tended to be the realistic ones of people, place, and objects. art had become a part of your life in the best way.
you entered a numerous amount of competitions and always come back on top; it got to the paint your shelfs had all been filled to the brim. you parents of course were elated with your success and were never prouder.
you soon were able to make some money with your art skills as well. you got commissioned for mainly portraits of family and friends, mostly to give as gifts or to have in their household. it made you feel proud someone out there had a piece of your art and that people loved your work enough to want you to paint their family.
the biggest commission you've ever taken was a 40x30 portrait of an older man. the request was anonymous, so you weren't sure who the man was or if the request was for himself or another person.
the project took a few weeks due to your work load and having to paint such fine details on a huge canvas. you were happy with the outcome and were astonished to find out the anonymous buyer had given you 10k for your work. it was way over your normal pay grade.
your success didn't end there. in the summer before your sophomore year, you received a fancy envelope in the mail. it was addressed to you and sent from heights country day school.
at first, you were confused as to why they would send you anything. everyone in texas knew of heights country day, it was one of the best private schools in the state. almost all parents want their kids to be a student there, but the tuition was awfully expensive, so if you weren't rich you were most likely not getting in.
you didn't wait to tell your parents before your ripped open the envelop in anticipation. you unfolded the letter inside and skimmed over the introductions.
you were shocked to find out you were being awarded a full paid scholarship to attend heights country day school for the rest of highschool.
your first thought was to assume it was a prank, or a scammer trying to get your info. but you examined the letter further; the seal of the school and the dean signature did look quite authentic. then you noticed the number listed on the bottom of the page.
you figured you should just call and check for confirmation. you told yourself the worst case scenario would be they laugh at your face and tell you the letter isn't real.
you definitely did not want to inform your parents until you made the call, that way if it wasn't real, their hopes wouldn't be crushed and they would never even know about it.
it took an hour of pacing in your room to finally work up the courage to make the call. you kept tour expectations low to avoid disappointment.
the secretary of the school was quick to pick up after two rings, and you briefly explained the letter you received. you held your breath for a second until she told you to "please hold for a moment."
when she returned she informed you you were being transferred to the dean's phone. your nerves were through the roof at this point. you wanted to believe it was a good sign the dean wanted to talk to you, but maybe he wanted to tell you himself the letter was unfortunately a phony and they do not give scholarships to art students.
the dean finally picked up the call and you both exchanged greetings. from there he explained how the letter was, in fact, very real.
the school had seen a work of yours and dug deeper into your portfolio and academic career. they were very impressed with your achievement, especially given your age. the board was all unanimous in agreeing to offer you the scholarship because of your artistic talents and would love for you to become a part of their school.
the rest of the call was a blur to you. when the call ended you stood stunned in your room for a minute. you had to pinch yourself to remind yourself this was real and happening.
once you snapped out of it, you were jumping up and down in joy. you truly were elated to possibly be a student at one of the top private schools in texas or even the country.
you wasted no more time informing your parents when they arrived home. they also thought you were just pulling their leg, but after you told them you had confirmation - you swear their jaws hit the floor.
your parents were just as excited for you. your mother took the liberty of baking all your favorites in celebration, even lemon scones, which were your favorite.
before you knew it, summer was over, and it was time to get back into school. you spent the rest of your break prepping to attend heights - gathering books, supplies, and a uniform (which was mostly paid by the school).
this was your first time wearing a uniform, and you were a bit delighted to wear it. it was a burgundy blazer with a navy crest embossed, with the school motto in latin, a white dress shirt, and a pleated plaid skirt.
it screamed, "i go to a really expensive private school."
it was nerve-wracking that you were now going to school with some of the richest and elite children in america. you'd hope it wouldn't be obvious where your social class stood, or if it was, they wouldn't think of you any less for it.
you did your best to stray from stereotypical assumptions, but then again you've never interacted with people of a such higher social class - you really had no idea what to expect.
nonetheless, you wanted to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, so you held your head up high when the first day came around.
the school in no way looked like a regular public school, it shared way more similar qualities with college campuses. it was beautifully constructed, and you had a feeling the inside was even more stunning.
your parents dropped you off in front of the twin archways of the school, wishing you a good first day, and they were only a call away if you needed anything. you responded with your goodbyes and now stood on the pavement of heights day.
a part of you was glad your parents left so soon; you loved them to death, but their older modeled car stood out amongst the other deluxe cars parked and driving into school grounds. the last thing you wanted on your first day was to stick out like a sore thumb.
you took a deep breath before you took your strides through the front door.
you were happy to see no one gave you obvious looks and stares when you walked through, like those of a movie. everyone seemed preoccupied with their own things. you were silently thankful for that.
you made your way to the office on your own; luckily it was very near the front entrance with a big sign that said 'office of registrar'. making it very easy for you to find it without having to awkwardly ask another peer.
you walked to a desk of who you assumed was a secretary and gave her your name and stated your business. she instantly recognized your name and made a swift move to hand you your schedule.
the secretary informed you about the school's modular scheduling, which means they operate on a six-day cycle, and classes meet anywhere from three to five times a cycle. you were free to fit in lunch where you saw fit. you honestly didn't quite grasp it, but you figured you'd just learn along the way.
she also let you know another student had been assigned to show you around school. that's how you ended up meeting rebecca laughlin.
rebecca was a shy and a bit nervous girl, but seemed sweet nonetheless. you briefly got to know her as she showed you the different rooms; the archive room, the reflector (basically the cafeteria you realized), gym, the art center etc.
she was in the same grade as you, and had a twin sister named emily also in the school. from the small mention of her sister you sensed it was likely a sore subject. you took over from there talking a bit about yourself and your interests.
rebecca mentioned she was also new this year, having moved to texas just recently with her family but frequently visiting before that. she was able to go on a private tour with her sister over the summer, which is why she knew the place quite well already.
you two chatted a bit more until the tour ended. the last stop was the art center, and you were more than thrilled to go inside and check it out. rebecca was about to enter along with you before she saw her twin sister and people who you assume were her friends , a boy and a girl.
you turned around to glance at them and saw they were waving her over. you could tell rebecca was hesitant to just leave you for them, but you reassured her she provided an excellent tour. she reluctantly went off toward her friends, not before giving you her number and letting you know if you had any questions you could reach her.
you took a peak back at where rebecca and her friends were walking away. they all look straight out of a teen vogue catalog. emily was identical to rebecca, same red hair, eyes, and face. you could tell emily was more confident than rebecca however. there was another girl, dark eyes and even darker brown wavy hair - she was so beautiful it felt unreal. and lastly with them was a boy, he was quite tall, dark-skinned with light honey brown eyes, and a head full of curly hair. he was handsome and easily fit in with the rest of the model-looking girls.
you must've looked a second too long because he turned his head in your direction and you both made eye contact.
you quickly snapped your head away,not waiting for his reaction, and made your way to the arts center. you cursed yourself for being caught looking a bit, and now you were slightly embarrassed.
when you reached the arts center, you were amazed. it was a big building with different rooms, it was decorated as if was a museum, marble floors and pillars, archways, etc. and everything about it was engaging.
you took the time to explore the whole place; you found several different art rooms you assumed were open to students, different supply closest, classrooms for teaching, and even a few soundproof rooms. at some point you ran into a few teachers and got to know them and what they taught. you had a few of them in your schedule, so it was great to know where their classes were.
before you knew it, it was time for your first class and then eventually to your last of the day. for lunch you had opted to eat what you brought from home in the archive because you didn't feel like going through the anxiety of finding somewhere alone to sit in the refectory.
it ended up being ironic because you made a friend in there who was also eating lunch. you were sitting alone at small table when a blonde haired girl with her lunch approached you.
her name was mia, and you both instantly clicked. mia had noticed you eating at the table alone and thought she'd introduce herself since she hadn't since you on campus before. she was also a sophomore, seventeen, and she was part of height country day dance team.
she has almost always eaten in the archive since her freshman year; she enjoyed the quiet and privacy since few students ever ate or hung out there too long - you both had that in common.
after that great first meeting, the two of you became best friends. you would occasionally have a class or two with her depending on the schedule, but you both always made time to see each other throughout the day and eat lunch in the archive room.
she later on introduced you to a few of her other friends, that were now your friends as well. they were all pretty wealthy, but it didn't change the fact they were all genuine and friendly people. the fear of making friends at your new school was gone by the end of your first week.
that's set up the rest of your fantastic first year at heights country day school.
you fit in immediately with the art center and other art peers. you all carried the same passions, and it was very fun to learn from others. of course, you all intimidated to be around people so advanced and mostly rich, but it only pushed you to work even harder.
your teachers were all so great. they were also tough critiques, being professionals and all, but you took any critique you got with stride- making you a better artist.
your non-art-related classes were more difficult and work-loaded than you were use to, but you were quick to catch up with the rest of the class.
a few kids at school were stuck up and pretentious, but mostly the students weren't too far off from normal teenagers. and like high school there were cliques and popular people. you never bothered yourself with any of that, yet you always heard three reoccurring last names - hawthorne, laughlin, and calligaris.
you knew laughlin meant rebecca and emily, and it didn't take you long to figure out the other last names must belong to the other two people she was with during your first day. it made sense to you they were well-known, just their looks alone made you feel like they're superior to you.
you could've asked mia or literally paid attention to gossip around you if you wanted to know the first names of the boy & girl with the laughlins, but it honestly slipped your mind. frankly, you were too occupied with navigating your new school life to really care too much about it.
the most shocking event to happen that year was the dead of emily laughlin.
you weren't close friends with rebecca - you two did have a few chats and texts here and there; she once or twice joined mia and you in the archive. but you still felt horrible her sister died and felt the need to reach out.
you gave her your condolences when you saw her back at school, and let her know you were there for anything. she thanked you, but you could tell she needed space to grieve.
you still felt the need to do something, so you came up with the idea to make her a portrait and gifted it to her wrapped. you didn't see her reaction to it (she opened it when she got home), but she let you know she deeply appreciated it.
after that the rest of your year was quick to come and go. and before you knew it, it was summer again.
your summer stayed uneventful, but fun. you worked almost full-time with your mom in her bakery and spent time with your friends.
one afternoon, you were working the counter and you saw a familiar face walk in - a certain handsome, honey-eyed, curly-haired guy.
you greeted him as you normally did customers and asked for his order. he replied, asking for blueberry scones.
you nodded and went to get the scones from your display. that's when he spoke up again, commenting on how he'd seen you from school.
you were taken aback he’d remembered you but you nodded agreeing and replied you were new sophomore year.
"what happens to be your name, baker girl?"
"y/n. and what happens to be yours, new customer?"
he gave a dramatic offended look, hand over his heart - "you mean your telling me you don't know the name of the most dashing man at heights country day school?"
you shrugged, "i suppose not."
"when then i ought to fix that, the name is xander, milady," bowing down to give a kiss on the dorsal side of your hand.
oh he was charming alright.
to hide your blushing face you busied yourself with packing his scones into a paper bag and rang him up to the register.
"very serious question...how do you feel about blueberry scones?"
"they're good, but i think the lemon ones are better."
you've never seen someone look so taken aback as xander did in that moment. he looked as if he'd just got the news his favorite boy band broke up.
"are you alright-"
"what do you mean you prefer the lemon ones!"
xander then went into a tagent on blueberry scones stomp the lemon ones any day, and only psychos favored the lemons. you countered his claims, defending your favorite treat. you both were going back and forth until a bell rang throughout the bakery, signaling a customer has entered.
"i suppose that's my sign to take my leave, but trust this debate is not over."
you rolled your eyes playfully, but you fought back a smile at the implication you two would speak again.
he handed his black card to pay, and you tried not to look astonished at his casual display of the card. as you were swiping his card, he pulled a scone out of his brown bag and laid it on the counter in front of you.
"here, it's my treat. this is the start of my fool-proof plan to convince you blueberry scones are far more superior."
you tried to decline or offer him a refund for that scone, but ever the gentleman, he wouldn't allow it. he was out the door before you could protest anymore. leaving with a, "until we meet again," and a wink.
you hated yourself for liking his annoying handsome beautiful smirk.
as he requested, you did eat the scone. you admit blueberry is delicious, but nothing compared to the citrus of your lemon ones. plus, you found a new motivation to keep favoring them.
that was the first of xander's many visits to the bakery that summer. always the same order, and always leaving one for you to eat. he really was on a mission to change your mind.
sometimes out of spite you'd slip in a lemon scone into his bag to rile him up when he opened it. it always resulted in xander coming back the next day throwing a dramatic hissy fit. you kinda found it cute.
you two continued your light banter about scones, but ventured into different topics such as school, hobbies, and exploding robots (his favorite topic). even as you worked behind the counter aiding customers, he was there talking your ear off. not that you minded at all, it was nice to have someone other than your mom to talk to.
you found out xander was very smart; he builds replicas of star wars droids and was a three-time world champion at building machines. you'd never known someone with such intellect. whenever you brought it up, however, he'd brush it off saying it's a family thing and his brothers are much wiser.
you briefly got a synopsis of his family, and it was quite intriguing. he had four half-brother; nash, grayson, and jameson - all sharing the same mother, but none of the boys' fathers seemed to be in the picture. all of them were basically raised by their grandfather, tobias hawthorne, who was obsessed with riddles and games. he sounded like an interesting man to say the least.
you opened up to him a bit about your family and getting a scholarship into the school. which now looked not as impressive talking to a genius yet, xander was amazed at this, asking to see some of your work.
you were suddenly self-conscious about your art. you thought a rich guy like himself probably had seen hundreds of artworks better than yours and done by people younger than your age.
so, you lied and said you didn't have any pictures, and that you'll show him another time. you're gonna stall that as much as possible.
you guys later exchanged numbers, now being able to communicate outside your bakery hours during the week.
xander favorite thing was to spam you with pictures of himself eating blueberry scones, and you swore you were gonna block him everytime.
summer went by in a flash, and the school went back into session; you were entering your junior year.
xander and you continued to hang out all the time, even more than you did with your own friends. he was always the one to find you around school, no matter the schedule you had that day.
he loved to sneak up on you and jump scare you, making your heart leap out your chest everytime. you would hit his arm in retaliation everytime and swore you were gonna unfriend him if he didn’t stop. you never actually did though.
xander made sure to pull you out your comfort zone. he sometimes dragged you (sometimes physically) to the refectory to go and eat with him. occasionally, his friends would join as well. rebecca was easy to talk to since you already knew her, and thea was…. complicated, but she had her good parts once she warmed up to you.
you then demanded xander eat lunch with you and mia to compensate for eating at the refectory every now and then.
he obliged, but you told him it was better if he didn’t after he got kicked out the archive for talking loudly. he swore the archive keeper had it out for him.
he continued the ritual of giving you a blueberry muffin made by the chefs of his home. sometimes you'd bring your own lemon scone and give it to him, negotiating that you'll eat your scone if he eats his.
he'd always agree, but eat it begrudgingly. you swore he was warming up to the scone.
you two took your hangouts to after school. if you worked, it'd be at the bakery and if not, you'd go to the park and just walk.
you invited him over to your house one day after school, xander excitedly accepted. you were a bit nervous he'd think poorly of your home since you were sure he lived in a glorious mansion.
you introduced him to both of your parents, and they greeted him kindly, but your mom embarrassingly asked if he was your boyfriend.
you were quick to make a joke to cover your pink cheeks, "mom, we'd never work out we have complete different tastes in scones."
xander cut in, "well, you know what they say, opposites do attract."
was he flirting with you, or were you reading into it? and why did you like it.
xander ended up really enjoying your house; he even once said he found it more peaceful than his own. so, you guys now frequently hung out at your house after school to talk, banter, study, and or even help each other with projects.
even though you tried to avoid it, xander ending up seeing your art.
it was unintentional; you were seated at a table in an art space working on a sketch, of whatever came to mind, with your earphones in. you didn't hear xander walk in and call your name.
you noticed his presence when he swiped your drawing book. you quickly took out your earphones and tried to reach for it back, but he'd already seen your drawing. and to make matters worse it was a sketch of him.
you were mortified, but he just looked at it in admiration.
he asked if you made it, and you shyly said you had.
"can't believe you were trying to hide your talent from me. now, as an apology ur going to let me keep this."
you immediately said no, and went to take it out of his hand. but xander was quicker and took the page from the journal and held it above his head, out of reach.
after a lot of jumping to reach it, which was required because he's very tall, you gave up and let him have it. xander was pleased with that, and has carried it everywhere in his wallet since then.
he now always pestered you about your art, wanting to see it or wanting you to make a piece for him. you had to admit, you found it flattering.
to make it fair, you wanted to see him in action working on something. he was delighted to show you his robots, and some of his process making them.
you were amazed at his talent, but he could be careless at times.
for instance, you two were in the lab room and you were watching him working on a new formula to fuel his robots. he turned on bunsen burner and before you knew it, it exploded.
he ended up with a missing eyebrow, and you were laughing hysterically. you still have pictures of him without it much to xander's dismay.
you knew you'd grown a crush on the charismatic guy, but you were too scared to admit it.
you weren't sure if he felt the same way, and a part of you felt silly for even thinking he would.
you confided in mia about it, and she was convinced xander was head over heels for you. but you still weren't quite sure, and you didn't want to damage a really good friendship.
in middle of october, xander's grandfather, tobias hawthorne passed away.
he wasn't at school that day, but you assumed he was out sick or doing something important. it wasn't until you heard the news from peers talking about it did you put it together.
you immediately sent him a text sending your condolences and asked if he needed anything.
you didn't hear from him for the rest of the week, which worried you - but you knew, like rebecca, people tend to want their space when loved ones pass.
it was a friday night, you were studying for an upcoming test in your world history class on monday, when you hear a sound from your window.
you ignored it at first thinking it was a wondering animal or just trees against each other. but then you heard it repeatedly, and you realized it was sounding more like a tap against the glass.
you carefully slid your curtains from the window and took a peak outside. you then came face to face with the boy you hadn't seen all week.
it took you a moment to register it was him, you yelped at the first sight of someone outside. but then he started motioning for you to open the window and then you noticed it was xander hawthorne.
you unlatched the lock on your window and slide it open enough he could fit through. but it didn't stop him from tripping on your window still and falling onto the ground with a 'thud'.
"shh! my parents might've heard that!"
"wow, instead of helping a poor fallen man up, you scold him. what ever happened to warm hospitality?"
you ignored him and held your hand out to help him up. once he was stood up, you waited for him to explain why he was here.
he went on to say he didn't have a specific reason, he just needed to get out of his mansion home. "the first place i thought of to go was here, with you."
you swore your heart leaped when he said that. you were praying to whoever was listening that your face wasn't a tomato. how do you even respond to such a heartfelt statement?
luckily, you didn't need to respond to that because he was quick to follow up his words.
"actually, you seem to be the first person i think about every day. no matter what i'm doing, I'll start to think of what'd you be saying if you were there. anytime i see the sunset, my thought shifts to what it look like if you painted it. hell, i've even found myself eating, yes eating, lemons scones because they bring me reminiscence of you."
xander crept closer as his words flowed out. and you were frozen to your spot. heart pounding louder as he took another step closer to you - leaving less than a foot of space between the two of you.
unsure of how to react you said the first thing that came to mind.
"well, uh, maybe you should think about inflation that usually keeps my mind busy." idiot. why do you open your big mouth.
xander gives you a grin, obviously amused at your nervous rambling like the little jerk he is. he was so close to you, you were embarrassed at the possibility he could he your heart pounding.
he moves his right hand to the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek - eyes never leaving yours. you didn't have the strength to look away or even move, as if he was a vampire who compelled you to stay still.
"i've never known someone to get red so easily as you."
you then realized how much of your face was burning, and then after that statement it heated up even further. stupid nervous system.
"i didn't think your face could get a deeper scarlet than it was a moment ago," he laughs, "it's quite adorable honestly."
oh, god. this guy had your heart fluttering at after calling you adorable.
"i wonder how red you'll get when i kiss you."
you did not have a moment to process what xander utter because at the next second his collided his lips upon yours.
nothing prepared you for how exhilarating kissing him felt. your knees gave out a little, and xander was quick to keep you steady. you weren't even ashamed, stuck in a trance by the kiss. it was as if a scene from a jane austen novel had come to life.
boy, was he a good kisser. it was unfair really, how perfect he could he at anything he wants.
when the two of you pulled away, he was the first to speak up.
"you're about as red as crayon right now."
that was enough to bring you back to reality and shove him.
immediately after that night, the two of you began dating.
at first you thought it was unsaid that the both of you were now dating, but you should've known better than to believe xander hawthorne would take the subtle way.
the following monday you were in the refectory waiting on xander, who'd ask you to meet him there. however, you hadn't seen him yet, so you just sat down at an open table.
suddenly, you hear some sort of a mechanical noises coming from behind you. you turned you heard toward it and nothing could have prepared you to see a life sized R2-D2 robot gliding straight towards you - holding flowers in its utility arm.
what the hell was in your breakfast that morning?
when it made it way in front of you, you were completely stunned. you could feel the gazes of people in the room also witnessing this. the robot look scarily realistic to the ones in the star wars movies, xander really was a genius.
the robot extended another arm to reveal a small envelope. you took it in your own hand, along with the flowers.
WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?
a. yes
b. a
c. kiss me
you rolled your eyes at his antics, maybe genius was an overstatement. then you noticed some scribble at the bottom.
p.s. NUTR NUAORD
at first sight of the words - you thought you were having a stroke, but then you figured out you had to unscrambled it to reveal the words 'TURN AROUND'.
of course, xander was always one for puzzles.
you follow the directions of the note and saw the man himself standing before you with a basket full of both lemon and blueberry scones.
"a tough choice, i know. personally, option c is the most appealing."
you wanted to smack the smugness of out him, but instead you opted to answer with letter c.
dating xander was chaotic to say the least, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
you two were never allowed to go on ordinary dates, xander always made sure they were memorable.
for your first date he took you to an escape room, but reserved the whole thing just for the two of you. xander was obviously a pro at the game, but you were quick to figure things out as well. the two of you got the quickest escape time.
at the end of it, he gifted you gold chained necklace with an 'x' and a golden key. you wore it all the time after.
another time you were taken to a amusement park, also reserved for the two of you. you clung on to xander on the scariest rides, much to his enjoyment. it wasn't until the end you saw how there had been pictures taken of you both while on the rides - your expression being fear on almost all of them while your arm was tight grabbing xander's. of course his face was just his charming giant grin of excitement.
he made sure to keep them all and put it as had lock screen despite how much you told him not to.
xander was now way more lenient about the lemon scone thing, and you can proudly say he even enjoys them now. nonetheless, the tradition at lunch is still on-going.
the most nerve wracking part of your relationship was meeting his family.
you learned just how rich xander and his family are. you knew he came from a lot of money, but you were never informed he was related to a billionaire. you couldn't comprehend how having that much money was possible, but xander, of course, acted nonchalant about the whole thing. rich people.
his brothers were all pleasant to meet. nash was the nicest, similar to his brother, he was a charmer with a country accent. grayson was more closed off, and didn't say a lot, but greeted you nicely. jameson, was a wild card, he was a bit drunk, but everyone collectively chose to remain obvious to it. he was also very flirty with you, but you knew it was mainly to annoy xander.
apparently it worked because the following day jameson was found with green hair.
you were introduced to his aunt and mother. his aunt was also pleasant, keeping greeting formal. his mother was.... interesting... the interaction was small, but based on some remarks and backhanded compliments; she looked down on your lower status. xander was quick to defend you and apologize after.
you later were asked to open the front door with a jumble of keys that all looked the same. you assumed this was suppose to be a test of some sort, but you weren't a mastermind at puzzles games like the other hawthornes.
instead, you found a big rock near the front entrance and smashed it against the door locks until they broke.
the brothers looked all bewildered at your action. xander was the first to burst out laughing, come around you to wrap and arm on your shoulder and kiss your forehead.
"that's my girl. who needs logic when you have big rocks."
xander was your biggest supporter in everything. he loved every piece of art you made, and never let you scrap or throw any of it anyway. anything you ever drew or painted him, he would keep it framed and hung in a section of his room dedicated to your work.
he shows up to every art show you have, bragging to people around how his amazing girlfriend painted the work. you always blush in embarrassment, but it never failed to make you happy.
you showed the same support for his activities as well. you cheered him on at my robotic competitions and you were his assistant in helping with small tasks during his building and experiments.
xander made robots were mainly made for doing simple things in overly complicated ways. he also occasionally gifted you robots for small annoying tasks you would offhandedly mention to him.
for instance, xander was walking you to your next class, carrying your backpack as he always insisted it was his job to do. you joked about how you wished he was always around to carry your stuff so your arms wouldn't be so tired.
a few weeks later he gave you a small robot designed to carrying items such as a backup and books. he even gave it wheels so it could follow you around the school like a puppy.
with xanders extroverted personality, it shouldn't surprised you he is not opposed to any PDA. which thea always gags to in the background if she's there to witness it.
he always has his arm around you, preferably your waist, or interlocks your hands together. he loves to gives you random kisses on the forehead or cheek. xander's favorite thing is to surprise you with a kiss on the lips in public, just so he can see you blush.
your first time with xander was very romantic and he made sure it would be. there were candles all over his bedroom and rose petals scattered on the ground.
although xander was known for being a bit cocky, he was just as nervous as you that night, wanting to make everything special just for you.
once he made sure you were comfortable - it was like a switch flipped - his cocky persona was back ten fold.
let’s just say the next day you couldn’t feel your legs, nor could you hide the multiple purple marks left on you.
of course, ever the gentlemen he was - he made you breakfast in bed the next morning.
you were even more shocked to find out that was his first time. why is he miraculously good at everything?
you hung out a lot more at the hawthorne mansion, xander showed you different passages around it. the house was so huge it felt like you've only ever seen 50% of it.
you grew closer to the other hawthorne brothers, taking part in family game night. you after a game of their version of chutes and ladders, you were quick to turn down some offers to play a game.
you also became good friends with avery grambs, you had first met her at the will reading, xander inviting you for moral support. you related to how out of place her and her sister felt around highly rich people.
the events of the will were shocking, but you were happy to find out she'd be sticking around. her moving into the mansion made it easier to hang out with her. you helped her adjust to heights country day and became close.
you and xander both helped avery with what you could in solving the clues his grandather left behind for avery and the hawthornes. although, you kept quiet about the fact xander knew a lot more than he was telling.
however, xander was reluctant to let you join them on anymore research after almost getting shot at when you went along with avery and jameson.
you’d never seen him so mad at his brother, cursing him up and down for putting you in that situation.
xander was insistent for you to stay behind from then on, but you relented and kept tagging along with the others on their little scavenger hunts. xander realized he couldn’t stop you, so he forbid you from going on any clue hunts without him by your side.
it was cute how protective he was, but a little annoying too.
one day you were walking around the mansion with xander looking for jameson, who had wondered off to who knew where. you came across an unfamiliar office. you had asked xander who it belonged to and he informed you it was his grandfathers, now technically avery's.
the two of you entered the office space, you figured xander was curious if anything had changed since his grandfather's passing or if he had maybe left another clue behind.
you were looking around until you eyes came across something behind his desk - a large portrait of who you assumed was tobias hawthorne. upon further inspection, you came to realize another thing.
you painted this portrait.
"holy shit."
even beyond the grave tobias hawthorne keeps on spurring surprises.
#the inheritance games#the inheritance trilogy#avery grambs#grayson hawthorne#jameson hawthorne#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#xander hawthorne x reader#xander hawthorne fic#xander hawthorne imagine#x reader#x y/n#reader insert#reader imagine#fanfic
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A Lady Made of Snow
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova and Enolio. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.
SUMMARY: Bellova fights to get herself back.
⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, mentions of murder, suicide, and torture, death, weapons, and swearing
A/n: i’m sorry this took so long to get out🥲🥲i’m gonna try to update this series more often
Coriolanus felt as if his body was turning to ice.
He barely managed to refrain from trembling in fear. His life could be ended with a flick of Bellova’s wrist if he didn’t think fast enough.
He decided against trying to play coy. He knew that would only infuriate her more, and lead to his demise.
“I can explain,” he said as gently as he could.
Bellova’s cold laughter echoed in his ears, making him shudder in her painfully tight grasp. Her sharp nails dug into his pale complexion, slowly but surely breaking through the first layers of skin.
“I would love to hear your reasoning as to why you thought ruining my life would be a wise choice,” she replied. She was beyond angry, which Coriolanus knew was bad news for him.
“Where did you get-“
“The knife?” Bellova chuckled lowly, dragging the sharp edge back-and-forth across Coriolanus’s neck, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. “When you took all of the weapons from my room, you didn’t check underneath my bed. I hid a blade tucked in the frame in case of emergencies. And this seemed like a fitting time to use it.”
Coriolanus swallowed. His throat felt like it had been replaced by sandpaper.
“How did you…become you again?”
“I don’t know. Everything was a blur. I felt like I was pulled out of a fever dream and back to reality.”
Bellova let go of him, only to spin him around and hold her blade right above his heart. “Now, you’re going to explain exactly what the fuck you did to me. The last thing I remember was being stabbed in the neck by a syringe, and collapsing on the floor of your office. Clearly, you took my mind hostage and took control of everything in my life.”
Coriolanus backed up, but Bellova was relentless. She grabbed him by the neck and shoved hard, pressing him up against the wall. Her lips curled into a sneer.
He had forgotten just how terrifying she could be.
“I deserve an explanation, and I intend to get it. Then, once I’m satisfied, I’m going to kill you, as slowly and painfully as I can.”
Somehow, her violent threat snapped him out of his fearful mindset.
He could easily physically overpower her. He was now stronger than her, thanks to his time as a peacekeeper. During their Academy days, Bellova had prided herself in her physical strength. Though she appeared harmless, with a few well-placed blows, she could bring almost anyone to their knees. He was always envious of that ability, as he couldn’t match it. He was too malnourished to even try.
But now, he was properly fed and had developed a significant amount of muscle during his peacekeeper training.
He could kill her with his bare hands if he wanted to.
And right now, he really fucking wanted to.
But he knew it wasn’t the right choice. He had to play her game first.
With faux reluctance, Coriolanus told Bellova everything. How he’d used Dr. Gaul’s serum to alter her mind, how he’d killed her father and taken over the Reginelle family’s resources, how he’d gotten her closest friends arrested.
He was practically able to see the cogs in her mind working. Her eyes, which once again contained the fierceness that Coriolanus had worked so hard to erase, were filing with angry tears.
He flinched as he felt his cheek meet the palm of her hand harshly. He wasn’t surprised that she’d slapped him, but it was still irritating. She really was a bitch.
“You’re a fucking snake, Coriolanus Snow,” she hissed, wrapping one of her hands around his throat and bringing the tip of her knife closer to his heart. “Say goodbye to everything you’ve accomplished, none of it will matter once I’m through with you.”
Bellova raised the blade, ready to begin creating morbid lacerations her “fiancé’s” perfect skin.
But as her hand came down, Coriolanus reached out and grabbed her wrist, effectively stopping the motion. Before she could squirm away, he ripped the weapon out of her hand. His temper flared, and he shoved her to the hard marble floor, making her cry out in pain. She tried to scramble away, but he was on top of her before she could get back on her feet.
Bellova opened her mouth to scream, but Coriolanus muffled the noise with his large hand. “Scream again and I’ll end you, you dumb bitch,” he snarled in her face. He grabbed the ends of her hair and tugged harshly, and she let out a quiet whine. She kept squirming wildly, trying to escape him, but she was trapped. He had her pinned.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bellova asked, her face flushed with panic and fury. “You’ve already done enough damage, why won’t you just let me be?”
“You know too much,” he sneered, intensifying his grip in her hair. She whimpered, silent tears streaming down her face. “I can’t have you exposing all of my endeavors, it would ruin my reputation and my blossoming career.”
“So you took over my head and ruined my life just to keep me quiet?“
Coriolanus laughed darkly. “You’re acting like you wouldn’t do the same if you were in my shoes.”
“Oh, shut u-“
He didn’t hesitate to smack her across the face, grinning as she cringed from the pain. “Now, my darling fiancée, this can go one of two ways. Either you stop fighting me and accept your fate, or I kill you and tell everyone in the Capitol you committed suicide. Which will it be?”
Bellova looked defeated. Coriolanus smirked, satisfied with the fact that he’d finally gotten his way.
Then, she spit in his face.
“I’ll never live under your rule, Snow,” she sneered. “I’d rather die.”
Coriolanus was extremely tempted to use Bellova‘s own knife to torture her slowly, dragging out her pain until her body couldn’t take it anymore. However, he knew that one of the servants or Avoxes in the estate would hear her screams, and he’d be caught red-handed.
So, he settled for knocking her out with a punch to her temple.
Picking her up, Coriolanus threw her onto the bed unceremoniously. He cursed silently, storming into his closet and pulling on an outfit as quickly as possible. He walked out of the room and hurried down the stairs, throwing on a coat and grabbing his satchel.
“I’m going to the Citadel. Emergency meeting with Dr. Gaul,” he told Enolio. “Don’t enter Bellova’s room, she’s had a rough night and her sleep must not be disturbed. If I hear that you defied my order, I’ll get you fired. Understood?”
Enolio looked pissed, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Coriolanus rushed out of the building and climbed into one of Bellova’s many family cars before the driver could open the door for him.
“Take me to the Citadel, get me there as fast as you can.”
The driver gulped, and started the car. Like many of the workers at the Reginelle estate, he got nervous when the Snow heir was around.
Coriolanus knew he tended to have that effect on people, which he greatly enjoyed.
He’d never get tired of seeing people’s eyes widen in fear when they realized he was about to end their careers lives.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Dr. Gaul?”
Coriolanus’s voice echoed through the empty lab. The only living beings in sight were mutations, which chirped, hissed, and mewled quietly in their cages.
“Back here, Mr. Snow.”
He followed the doctor’s voice until he spotted her at the very back of the lab. She was staring at a couple of sketched designs, both of which were labeled as mutts to include the next Hunger Games.
“I need help,” Coriolanus said, hanging his satchel on the back of a chair. “It’s Bellova. She’s back to her old self.”
“And how exactly did that happen?” The doctor’s voice was deadly quiet, making Coriolanus fidget uncomfortably.
“I-I don’t know. I went to go shower, and when I went back to her bedroom, she attacked me with a knife. I knocked her out after a bit of a struggle, and I came here.”
Dr. Gaul frowned, her horrifying eyes narrowing. “Perhaps she finally was able to fight the altercations the serum made to her mind, and regain control.”
“Maybe,” Coriolanus said. “But I need to get her back under. I can’t have her telling everyone about…about everything I’ve done.”
Dr. Gaul sighed, setting down her papers. “Bring her here tomorrow morning. Once she wakes she will undoubtedly be hostile, so you’ll need to threaten her with violence to get her to comply. By the time she arrives in my lab, I will have an experimental room ready specifically to perform tests on her.”
“What tests?“
The doctor grinned crookedly. “We will see if she can be persuaded to behave the way you want. If so, we can keep her off the serum. But if not, we will keep her here until I develop a new formula that will keep her mind malleable and vulnerable, allowing you to have full control.”
“And what if neither of those work?”
Dr. Gaul shrugged nonchalantly.
“Then we will dispose of her. We can’t have anything getting in the way of your success, can we, Mr. Snow?”
Coriolanus smirked.
“No, we certainly can’t.”
✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊
TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! It may take me a bit to write the next chapter, and the story will start having longer, more frequent time skips, because we’ll be getting into Coriolanus’s career as a Gamemaker, and then his transition into politics.
Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow x oc#the hunger games#tbosas#original character#thg prequel#dr gaul
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💔
f*cked up kissing asks | a kiss which will be forgotten
Moonlight streamed through the open window, bidding Tamlin’s eyes to a reluctant waking. It wasn’t day, but it certainly wasn’t night. It was witching hour, when all the creatures rose for their second stir — including him. He’d never slept through the night. Not in five hundred years. Yet, he did not want this one to end. A part of him could not bear to open his eyes for the fear of seeing Feyre draped across the bed, half naked and completely his.
He covered them with his palm. He could feel her stirring by his side. She needed sleep. There was a long battle ahead of them. Hopefully, his plan would work and she would escape safely across the border before the evils of Pyrthian could touch her anymore than they already had.
Tamlin wanted Feyre to be safe. If it was the last thing he ever did — he wanted to know that her life could go on in her own realm with only the memory of him to grace her.
Unless — she truly loved him. Is that even possible? He wondered.
His heart ached in his chest. Tamlin lowered his hand from his face as his heart began to pulse rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t panic. This was not the time to panic. This was not the time to look back.
He took in two deep breaths, struggling to ground himself inside what he knew had to happen. This was goodbye.
This is goodbye.
Feyre reached across the mattress as she heard him struggling to breathe. The High Lord forced himself to be quiet, but relinquished to the soft touch of her fingers tracing his upper arms.
Hands off…Tamlin had agreed, yet he’d still fallen asleep in her arms. They tempted him again. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over into the sheets and wrapped his strong arms around her lithe shoulders. She relaxed against him, with a soft sigh.
Oh, Feyre. Tamlin pressed his face into the bare crook of her neck, leaving soft kisses over the subtle bite marks from before. He’d marked her body the same way she’d marked his soul. How am I ever going to do this without you?
She was his mate. His heart, his mind, his body — all pulled him to stay in this bed. Yet, Tamlin knew that if he did not get up…he would be the cause of her death.
He pulled back slowly, painfully.
Feyre protested in her sleep, clinging to his arm. Her nails left a mark. “High…lord.” She murmured. “Don’t go…I lov…”
Tamlin backed away. The last word. It made the room begin to glow, but her sleep again darkened it. A conundrum of feelings stormed across his face and he tore himself away from the bed, angrily swiping away hot tears that dared to fall from his eyes.
He walked towards the bedroom door, leaving behind what could have been his perfect future.
For her good. He told himself.
He didn’t mean to do it.
He shouldn’t have.
Tamlin looked back over his shoulder. Feyre breathed evenly, a soft smile on her features.
He walked quickly back towards her, pushing her hair behind her face, and delicately pressing his lips against her forehead. “Goodbye, Feyre. I love you. You are the beating heart of the spring court.”
Tamlin stood up and forced himself to leave the room, ignoring the way his entire body was shaking. This was it. He had made his choice. Some kisses were meant to be forgotten.
#ask & answer#story prompts#the high lord remembers#the beating heart of the spring court#person: feyre
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I RETURN WITH AN AU where broomstown, or in this case, broomscity, is ruled over by a dictator-like rescue team.
a shadow of your past self
a robocar poli au concept. (tw? dark au)
broomscity is a large city, inhabiting humans, vehicles, and robovehicles. despite its modernized look, a sense of dread can be felt when you step into it.
the rescue team, well, does rescues, but that's more of a side job rather than a main one. their main duty is to keep the city in check, and to make sure no one steps out of bounds and is put in their place should they ever disobey laws. they have the servant class citizens (mostly robovehicles) work for them personally and have them do the dirty work if needed.
poli is the tyrannical and power-hungry leader of the team, greedy for control over those who he sees as inferior to him, and won't hesitate if it means to get that control with force. the once kind and loyal leader had changed his ways for the worse, leaving only but a shadow of what he used to be.
"oh roy, you wouldn't dare to go against your own friends, would you? it'd be such a shame if you did, betraying the people you've spent nearly your entire lives with. you should know better, old friend."
roy is the reckless yet reluctant firefighter. he finds the rescue team's actions to be questionable, however, he's too attached to his beloved friends to go against them. so, he simply complies with orders and goes along with it, regardless of his skepticism. despite this, ironically, he tries not to get too attached to any workers who work under him and the team. knowing that they if end up making too many wrong moves, they might just end up being.. well, never to be seen. don't be surprised if it seems he's distancing himself from you, he just doesn't want to feel the pain of losing a close friend again. the only exception to this is helly.
this man has attachment/abandonment issues someone please give him a hug.
"i-i'm sorry, poli. how could i even begin to think of such a thing? ...this won't happen again."
"good to know you're still on our side, roy~."
sweet and sadistic amber can charm you into following orders from her or the rescue team, and if that fails, she always finds a way to make you. it'd be an understatement to call her just a medic. although she's there fix up and repair robovehicles, amber is also there when you are deserving of punishment. you'll know when you're sent to the infirmary and it's NOT for healing, and you see the array of medical tools, weapons and lethal substances, you know you're screwed.
"your screams and cries won't get you anywhere, it's simply futile. i really didn't want to do this, but i had no choice, you know~? poli's orders, not mine."
helly is the rescue team's faithful little scout. he's aware of how the team can be, so in order to not be not be rejected by poli, shunned by roy, or possibly get dissected by amber, he has to be on his best behavior. he enjoys getting praised by his peers, knowing that he will be given another day of living.
"ah, our little errand boy. he is one of our personal favorites of our servants, and knows how to act and respond to us, unlike some others. quite the attentive one, don't you think?"
☆
i'm very proud of this au ngl... also fun fact i took inspiration from shattered glass ratchet from transformers for amber's bio, haha yesss insane medics go brrrrr (in my tf era currently)
i'm not too sure where to put jin in this au, i know she's affiliated with the rescue team in some way
also, hiya i'm back from my lil break! and i cooked with this au didn't i 🔥🔥🔥🔥
if ya'll have ideas for this au then THAT'D BE AMAZING OMG??? send me your ideas i'd be so happy
#au: a shadow of your past self#robocar poli#poli#robocar poli amber#robocar poli roy#sharon's_multiverse_of_AUs#au#au idea#fandom au#au concept#robocar poli au#hey guys im back lol
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isn't it a marvel
Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!Tav Rating: G Wordcount: 1400 Genre: Self-indulgence Summary: Tav, Rugan, and Olly after the end of the world has been averted, sitting in a tavern in Waterdeep. Tav causes minor trouble, as is her wont. AO3 link here
Faerun never stayed saved. Not for her, not for anyone. Not even Elminster. On this fine spring afternoon, however, it seemed to have slowed its hurtling towards certain destruction to a near-halt. Tav had some hours to idle away, and meant to make the most of her reprieve.
The tavern reminded her of the Singing Lute, back in the Gate. Small, cantilevered over the water, and crawling with bards. None of them were familiar to Tav, and yet the conversations she could overhear were the same as ever - someone had a new lute, someone else had finally brought down the hammered dulcimer they’d been talking about for weeks, someone owed someone else money and didn’t have it, someone had a new hat, and - bards being bards - there was that one table who were convinced of their own natural superiority, and were talking too loud and flinging themselves about in dramatic poses.
Tav and her companions were tucked in a corner, their backs comfortable against the sea wall. Their choice of table is habitual now, much like the way she always checks for other exits. A trellis covered with vines shelters them from the sun and lines of sight, and Rugan has a shield up, just in case. Her chair was tipped back, one booted foot on the railing to keep her balance, and she was quietly running through fingerpicking exercises on her new lute. Yesterday Gale had reinforced it with magic, while Tav paced around his room in an excess of nervous energy. Just because her wizard friend was a genius didn’t mean he understood the importance of tuning, or resonance, and Tav had had to stop herself flinching every time a spell took and sank into the marquetry.
His calculations had been right, and Tav was delighted with the results. The instrument ought to survive the indignities of the road with aplomb. Tucked away in a pouch she also had a fingerpick ring for the first knuckle of her thumb. This was enchanted to amplify the volume of her lute, but Rugan had taken one look at it and approved of it as a way to take someone’s eye out.
He was sitting next to her, talking to Olly over a pint of something bitter. Her Zhent looked much the same as he did when she met him. Less blood. His hair wasn’t as grey as it should be, and he’d stopped complaining about his knees a couple of winters ago. Tav had her suspicions about this, but she was reluctant to look a gift Zhent in the mouth, not when she wanted it to keep kissing her for decades yet. In her opinion the gods owed her for that whole tadpole business - still owe her, really. Turned out that getting out of the world-saving business was harder than she’d thought.
Olly looked well, crow-black pulled back in a glossy ponytail and no longer hiding behind his fringe. She wasn’t entirely sure what he did these days, and hadn’t asked, since what she doesn’t know can’t be winkled out of her with magic or torture or both. Regardless, smiles were coming easily on his face, and he was carrying at least two items that were positively seething with enchantment. Whoever he was running with now was much better for him than the Gate crew ever was. Present company excluded.
Tav seized upon a lull in the conversation. “I learned a new one,” she said to Olly, and strummed a little louder so the tune would carry over to him. Rugan, recognising it, sighed heavily. Tav ignored him. “Comes from Moonshae, or so they told me.”
“They're far from staid after a raid,
These men of Zhentil Keep.
They kill off all the women,
For they much prefer the sheep.
The men don't eat their ill-got treat.
Not one of them's a glutton.
So isn't it a marvel
That they always smell of mutton?
Olly laughed. “They used to call us sheepfuckers at home. Busted some heads about it as a boy. Or tried to.”
“Met a man from Ashabenford who claimed goats were a better lay than sheep,” Rugan added. “Said they were friskier.” As with most of Rugan’s stories, it was impossible to tell if he was lying. It seemed plausible, and yet -
He hadn’t taken the song with that much equanimity when Tav had first learned it, so much so that Tav had taken perverse delight in whistling the melody at odd times and places and waiting until the scowl lowered itself onto his face. Things had come to a head over Tav's extended digression about whether it would be ethical for Rugan to eat mutton stew. They had been very late starting on the road the following morning.
Unfortunately, Tav’s lapse into fond memories was interrupted. Someone from one of the closer tables had come over, and was looking uncomfortably at her.
“Excuse me,” said the interlocutor, a young human girl in peacock velvet and a scarlet feather in her cap, “but you might want to be careful where you play that. The Black Network has eyes and blades everywhere.”
“Do you mean to say there might be Zhentarim here? Listening to me?” Tav asked, all wide-eyed innocence and absolutely not looking anywhere near the man next to her.
“Davil Starsong’s played on that very stage,” said the girl pointing, where the hammered dulcimer was being drowned out by the table of posturing assholes. A pity, because Tav would have liked to hear it. It’s not the sort of instrument she came across often on the road.
“Hmmm,” said Tav, noncommittally, and strummed through the first few bars again. The girl looked pleadingly at Rugan, being the oldest and presumably the wisest of their little group.
“Shouldn’t think she’s got much to fear from the Zhents, lass,” he rumbled, and slid a hand onto Tav’s thigh. Tav relented - the girl didn’t know, and the warning was kindly meant.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. “But while you’re here - who are that group over there? With the purple hat and the moustache? The loud ones?”
“Them,” said the girl, screwing up her face with disgust. “That’s Arlon. His aunt’s a guildmaster, and his uncle married up, and they’ve got a lock on half the good parties.”
Tav nodded. There was good money to be made there, and if they liked you they’d ask for you again. Most of the time the kitchen staff would feed you leftovers, too, and damn if the rich didn’t eat well. If you could get your foot in the door. If.
“He’s not even that good,” continued the girl. “Says he likes Volo, because everyone knows them and it’s easy.”
Tav shot bolt up right anyway, outraged. “Volo’s not even a bard,” she spat, and Rugan chuckled into his beer.
“Exactly!” said the girl. “He’s a -”
“Lying hack of a wizard,” finished Tav, vengefully. She glared at Arlon. “Something should be done.” Rugan’s hand tightened on the inside of her thigh. Careful.
“Er,” the girl said, somewhat doubtfully. Her eyes flicker across to Olly, who grinned back at her. Gods, he’s grown up.
“I’m not going to burn down your local,” Tav said. “Just…dampen the noise. Promise.”
“Really?” The girl’s eyes shone.
“You can’t,” said Tav. “I can, and I’m leaving town tomorrow. Consider it a thank you for the warning.”
“Oh. All right.”
“You should go sit down. Don’t want to be near me when it happens.”
Tav tapped a soft rhythm onto the body of her lute, summoning water, and dropped it onto Arlon and his clique. Shrieks of outrage and surprise echoed across the bay, and then most of the bar was laughing, and laughing hard. Water’s heavier than people think, but Tav has judged it nicely; they’re drenched to the skin and will have to sadly squelch all their way home, but no one is physically injured. Gods, they look ridiculous, careful coiffeuses turned to lank rat’s tails on their necks. Even Arlon’s moustache is drooping. They barely manage to flounce as they leave.
“Nice work,” said Rugan, into her ear, in that tone, in that voice. Deliberately, Tav guesses; he knows the effect that has on her. He slid his hand further up her thigh, and Tav shot him a sideways glare. Damn him. Damn her susceptibility to him.
Emboldened, the hammered dulcimer player launched into a frottole, and began to sing.
#bg3 fanfic#bg3 rugan#bg3 olly#my tav#bards will be bards#with thanks to @my-favourite-zhent who found the original shanty on the forgotten realms wiki
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Steve has never worked a job without Robin by his side, but when they lose their jobs at Family Video he may not have a choice. Thankfully, things always work out in the end. Beta read by @ladydorian05
One of the things Steve has always underestimated ever since being thrown into the madness of monsters and alternate dimensions is just how jarring it is going from the life or death type situations of the upside down back to mundane real life. So when he and Robin lose their jobs at Family Video, it seems like a trivial problem in comparison to everything they’ve faced in the past week.
It’s not like they didn’t see it coming. They ditched in the middle of the busiest day of the week and showed up a week later with poor excuses and no evidence to back them up. What were they meant to say? Oh, sorry about that, we were busy fighting monster bats from another dimension in an attempt to prove our friend didn’t commit a violent murder.
They manage to hold down a job in the coffee place on the other side of town for the better part of a month, but that eventually comes to an end. After that, they hop between whatever odd jobs people will offer them until the end of summer comes and Robin goes off to college.
She decides to go for a linguistics course at a community college about 30 miles out from Hawkins. Her classes are only 3 days a week and it’s close enough that she can continue living with her parents, though most of the time she just crashes in one of the many spare rooms at Steve’s. He insists on driving her. She argues with him at first, but he knows how to stand his ground once he has his mind set on something.
3 weeks after classes begin, Robin is bogged down with more school work than either of them expected and Steve’s dad is starting to get on his ass about the fact he’s still unemployed. He needs to get a job and for the first time, he won’t have Robin by his side.
He knew this day would come, she was always destined for more than the shitty dead-end retail jobs they had been working. Still, he’s not sure he even knows how to function without Robin by his side, he wouldn’t have even gotten the job at Family Video if it weren’t for her. They’ve relied on each other for so long, even back in the early days of Scoops when they were both adamant that they disliked each other.
As reluctant as he is, he knows there’s no other option. He needs to try to get a job on his own. He’s faced down literal monsters and gone toe to toe with a demogorgan on more than one occasion this should be nothing in comparison.
The record store is a small indie thing, closer to Robin's school than it is to Hawkins. It’s more of a pro than a con if he’s being honest with himself, it saves him from having to drive all the way back to Hawkins and worry about being there on time. He soon finds he quite likes the thought of working somewhere and not seeing the same handful of faces he’s seen for the last 20-plus years of his life day in and day out, of not bumping into old high school classmates who are oh-so-happy to remind him of days he’d much rather put behind him. It’s perfect and he can’t quite believe it when they actually hire him.
It seems like relatively simple work, not all that different from Family Video. The owner meets him there for his first day, shows him the ropes, tells him his co-worker will be in any minute now if he has any issues, then leaves him to it. He’s sorting through a box of records in the stockroom, his back to the door when he hears a voice. It’s one he recognizes, though he hasn’t heard in a while.
“Harrington?”
He turns slowly and doesn’t quite believe his eyes when he sees Eddie Munson standing in front of him. The last time they saw each other Eddie was still in the hospital, pale from blood loss and covered in bandages. He looks different now, healthier, happier, it’s a good look on him. The wounds on his neck and face have healed into patches of raised pink skin, gnarled and twisted like the ones hidden beneath Steve’s shirt.
“What’re you doing here?” Steve blurts out after he’s managed to pick his jaw up off the floor.
“I work here.” Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off him, as if he’s worried Steve might disappear if he looks away for even a second. “And I’m guessing you’re the new hire?”
“Yeah, I uh- yeah I am.”
“So, what brings you all the way out here?” Whatever spell Eddie was under previously breaks and he’s finally able to look away when he moves to grab one of the crates Steve had been sorting through, “Finally get tired of Hawkins?”
“Robin goes to college nearby, I drive her most days anyway,” he explains, following Eddie out onto the shop floor. “What about you?”
“Feds wanted us out of Hawkins, for obvious reasons. This was as close as they’d let us stay.” He’s quiet for a moment, but Steve can feel the unspoken words hanging in the air, “I wanted to call, but-”
“I know.” He gets it.
He knows Dustin and some of the other kids call, but that was different. Steve and Eddie were never friends. They were two barely acquaintances with a handful of mutual friends forced to trust each other in a, frankly, insane situation. It was difficult to know where they stood after it was all over and with Eddie no longer in Hawkins, presumed dead by the majority of the town who didn’t know any better, it was easy for Steve to ignore that nagging voice in his head that wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.
“Well, looks like you won’t be getting rid of me that easily after all.” Eddie smiles and bumps their shoulders together before moving off through the rows of shelves.
“Hey, Eddie,” He calls and Eddie turns to look, “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.” An unreadable expression flashes across Eddie’s features, gone almost as soon as it appears, “Now what do you say about helping me with some of these boxes, big boy?”
The nickname shocks him for a moment, just as it had the first time he used it, but it’s followed by a wide smile. He may not have Robin by his side, but he thinks he’s going to enjoy this job just fine.
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Usopp asks sanji to write out the recipe of a favorite dish of his and let him borrow the kitchen to make it but sanji keeps Observing and Hovering
set vaguely after arlong park I guess??
—
Despite what anyone on the crew might think, Sanji isn’t actually against having other people in the kitchen. Working in a restaurant means working with a bunch of assholes who know how to sauté shit without setting themselves on fire. But while the bastards on the Baratie could barely be considered chefs, they were still—technically speaking—chefs.
He doesn’t miss the cacophony of steel and iron, of stupid banter, of order after order after order. He doesn’t miss elbowing past Patty on the way to the fridge, or heckling some dipshit’s new recipe until it’s actually worth serving, or cleaning with the geezer at the end of the day.
What he does miss is working with someone who knows how to hold a knife.
“That’s not how you fillet a fish,” Sanji says. Once he’s sure Usopp’s not in danger of accidentally cutting himself, Sanji reaches over to reposition Usopp’s hand, finger off the spine of the blade.
Usopp makes a face, probably torn between deferring to Sanji or spinning some story to brush him off. They’re still feeling each other out—it’s been a weird leap from ‘reluctant waiter and picky customer’ to ‘crewmates bound by the whims of their idiot captain.’ In the end, Usopp nods, carefully cutting into the pike while holding the knife in his new and improved posture (smart choice, less chance of losing his grip and a finger).
“You’re not cutting close enough to the—“
“Do you not want me here?” Usopp blurts out. “In the kitchen, I mean,” he clarifies, and for a second it looks like he’s going to continue, but he. Doesn’t. No backpedaling, no deflection, no convoluted over-explanation, which—isn’t Usopp supposed to lie? That’s his whole thing. Sanji knows that much, at least (but not much else).
“I’m trying to be nice,” Sanji says, eventually. To his own surprise, he means it. “If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve kicked you out.”
“…Oh.”
Usopp continues filleting the pike, and Sanji doesn’t point out the bones that are stuck in the pieces.
Alright, so, the thing is. Spending nine whole years surrounded by thugs will apparently have an impact on someone’s social skills. Which doesn’t matter with Luffy—he doesn’t really care about what Sanji says (unless it’s about food). It doesn’t matter with Zoro—Sanji doesn’t give a shit about that mosshead. And with Nami-chan, Sanji doesn’t have to think—a single glimpse of her radiant beauty is so soul-stirring that Sanji’s simply helpless against the flood of praise that springs forth ❤️
So how the hell is he supposed to talk to someone like Usopp?
Thankfully, it’s not a question Sanji has to consider for too long—Usopp clears his throat, taking the lead.
“I actually did this a lot before joining the crew,” he says, which—knife technique aside—sounds plausible.
“Yeah?”
“I must’ve grilled a thousand—no, ten thousand fish,” he continues, which sounds like bullshit. “By the time I was eight, the whole island was lining up for a taste of the great Captain Usopp’s legendary fire-grilled fish! Using spices foraged from the forest and fish caught by spear, not even the most refined palate could resist the food I poured my heart and soul into! But you see—” and here, he smiles, bright but somehow bittersweet, “I’d only cook it for my loyal crew and the princess we’d all sworn to protect.
“Now, as astounding as my own recipe was, I’m man enough to admit when I’m beat. And yours beats mine, no contest. So someday, I’d… like to cook it. For my old crew.”
It’s impressive, the way Usopp manages to be blindingly honest while lying his ass off. Sanji’s not quite sure what to make of it. If anyone else was feeding him this crap, he would’ve told them to eat shit, but…
…
“Hey,” Sanji says. “Tell me about your old crew.”
And, with a wide grin, Usopp does.
(The fish comes out fine. A little over-seasoned, but edible. They’ll work on it.)
#sanuso#sanji#usopp#my writing#one piece#ask#anonymous#I had a line like ‘Fire-grilled? How else would fish be grilled?’#but realized. I’m not confident enough to stake my life on that line as something a chef would say.#technically there’s charcoal grilling right…? hm…#anyway I wrote this in 3 hours with slapdash research into How To Perfectly Fillet A Pike#and am posting without a beta read by one piece scholars. also I never wrote these characters. also I haven’t reread one piece in years.#thanks anon that was fun#also thanks ketolic for the other prompt I’m gonna start it when it’s not 3am lol#oplb#orlbs
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another question! Do you think anti-entropy still holds a grudge against otto and/or shicksal for what happened in ‘55? I remember tesla blowing up at one of clones and basically talking smack about him to his face, but welt and einstein were able to have a (somewhat) civil conversation with him.
This one is a bit complicated to answer due to the story-plot-holes problem or more like writers' laziness to dive deeper into the history development of these two organisations + me not being alright with how the story was unfolded and then wrapped up in general. But it's a great question to ponder about nonetheless!
As Ein once said “I can't erase my memories but I won't blame you for what Otto did”. I think this can suffice as a short answer.
And now let’s dive into this story of the most contradictive illogical moves I can’t fathom to this day.
Schicksal and NA branch had had tense relations long before 1955 happened. Technically, Edison’s personal disdain for Schicksal and Yellowstone soulium situation can be considered a starting point of this story. Plus, even though that NA branch had some sort of autonomy, lab 42 was still considered a part of European branch therefore they had to obey HQ. And a defiant group of scientists with different philosophy, life values and belief was something HQ couldn’t allow to freely exist. So, the conflict of sides was unavoidable. Even if 1955 accident had never happened, NA + lab42 would’ve fought for their independence one way or another. What I want to emphasize here is that AE organisation was destined not only to be founded but to be founded on ashes of lives and sacrifices, the core of the organisation was a historic legacy of its own.
But 1955 did happen and then it was all snowball effect from there. Conflicts, threats, intrusions, more conflicts, rivalry etc. And the thing is that the story plot wouldn’t have gone so smoothly if Schicksal and AE had continued having beef with each other. So, at some point, they had to start cooperate, temporary at first and then on permanent basis.
Yes, AE and St. Freya were wary of each other at first, Ein was cautious about the information and strategies they shared with Far East branch. But at some point, the story led AE to the dead end where they couldn’t defeat honkai without Kiana being the key part of their world saving plan. And then Kolosten arc came where AE and Schicksal had a whole relationship development story and AE realised that no matter how much it hurt, no matter how huge their grudge was, no matter how unfair the life was, they couldn’t blame Schicksal members for what Otto did and for what Otto made them do.
What I dislike about it is that AE’s will to work with Schicksal felt too forced and contradictive? As if the story told them to “shut up and get over it” while, be it Ein or Tesla, clearly couldn’t shut up and get over it but were forced to play buddy-buddy with Schicksal nonetheless. Ein definitely held a grudge against Schicksal. But then something contradictive started to happen. She was reluctant to work with Schicksal at first, then she wasn’t, then she was reluctant once again and at some point, it all led to her becoming Theresa’s lapdog, to put it bluntly. And, by playing this right hand man role and speaking in the name of AE, Ein left Tesla no other choice but to suck it up and go with the flow. Which was a low blow since we all saw how emotional and enraged Tesla was in the Kolosten arc (reminder that she wanted to bombard the city) when the story decided to remind them of what Otto did. Still, they were willing to put their bitterness aside and go on a new path together as partners with Schicksal.
Like, we have Ein and Tesla who kept AE afloat for many years which wasn’t an easy thing to do because 1) AE was an unstable organisation that was on the verge of collapsing many times 2) Joachim was MIA throughout almost the whole story 3) In the end of the day, they’re just two scientists, just a theorist and engineer. Yes, the organisation was more of a burden to them, but it was all they had, it was their legacy, their pride and their fuel to keep going. And then one day Joachim comes back from his MIA status in the story and discards it all by agreeing with the merging plan of two organisations.
I might be biased but the “there’s no longer a conflict of ideas between us” and “it doesn’t make sense to operate separately” is something I’m not agree with to this day. Because the conflict of ideas is still there. Schicksal and AE do have different ideologies and Coralie and Helia keep proving it in the part 2. These two organisations are still naturally different on a core level. Always were and always will be. AE and Schicksal could continue operate separately and be business partners together as mechas organisation and valkyries organisation. But no. For some reason making Joachim ditch the whole organisation into Theresa’s hands and therefore burdening her with leading two world organisations simultaneously seemed more positive and wholesome to the writers. Moreover, it was done so randomly? Without anyone’s consent in AE on that matter? It’s not only Ein or Tesla who had wary opinions about Schicksal but other AE staff most likely had too. There’re generations of AE members who spent their lives seeing Schicksal as their enemy for many reasons, be it personal or political. And then everyone just went with the flow, agreed with Joachim’s decision and that’s it? I mean yeah sure, he deserved to start his life anew doing whatever he wants. But he was a sovereign after all. So many decades and efforts to make AE an independent strong organisation only to give it all back under Schicksal’s control? Just great. What’s the point of making characters so attached to their organisation only to end it with them being like “yeah, whatever, we can’t care less”. If Joachim wanted so badly to step down from his role, why to not give the sovereign role to Ein and Tesla as they rightfully deserved it? They were brain and hands of the AE organisation the whole time. The merger is even more absurd knowing that they continue operating autonomously and separately. But now being part of Schicksal.
Which means they came back to where they started and all that history legacy and holding grudges thing goes down the drain in my opinion.
I still think that AE were made dirty. We still don’t know about AE’s structure, how they let faction split to happen, who’s in control of their military forces now, what about Edison’s companies that were left, why Ada never played some crucial role etc. And on top of that we have this sad story about characters full of bitterness and resentment who never had a chance of being properly written but to be only used as another tool to move the game story.
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Dadkovsky and Clara
i LOVE their dynamic, so here’s some content
Daniil is THE reluctant caretaker
He acts like he doesn’t give a fuck about Clara, she’s just some insane brat stepping on the toes of professional adults, but the MOMENT he realizes something is actually wrong with her, he goes STRAIGHT into Dad Mode
And he didn’t even know he had a Dad Mode!
Pet names? Pet names
“Sweetheart” and “pumpkin” are his go-to for her
He questions her choice in bottoms. Her legs are going to get cold!
As such, he’s CONSTANTLY nagging her about putting on pants
“Oh, is the great Bachelor worried for me?” “No, you just look idiotic.”
(He is worried about her)
He doubts the Saburov’s ability to take care of Clara, especially given all her strange…quirks
Sometimes he finds her asleep on benches outside, groans to himself, and wonders if he REALLY wants to deal with this today. And then he trundles over to her and wakes her up, telling her she can sleep at the Stillwater instead of out in the elements.
“God, DON’T look at me with those eyes!”
He once let her use his coat because she was shivering (probably because she doesn’t wear pants), and he genuinely thought he was never gonna get it back (he did. very reluctantly)
He’s the type to worriedly insult Clara when something and happens. like, “what did you do, you stupid girl?”
He and Clara throw jabs at each other constantly, but one day, Clara was just in a really bad mood, and Daniil made a comment, and she just burst into tears
Cue Daniil going, “wait, no, no, no, don’t cry!” and frantically trying to get her to stop
Daniil Very Quickly learned that Clara is EXTREMELY touchy-feely and has no concept of personal space At All
One time, he snapped at her for hanging on him, and she looked like a kicked puppy after, so he heaved a sigh and apologized before explaining that she can’t just go and always get in people’s personal space bubble whenever she wants. She understood well enough!
She still likes using him as her own personal piece of furniture, though
She’s just very touch-starved and craves affection more than food
Speaking of food!
If Daniil has some to spare, he’ll give Clara some food
She always refuses it, though
Which makes him snap at her for being so humble in the time of a famine
After the Plague has ended and Daniil and Artemy become a thing (because we all know those two want to be together), Daniil is even more adamant on getting Clara to eat
Among other things
He’s lucky enough to have found a family in this damn town
Clara has nobody anymore
And although she acts like she doesn’t care, Daniil knows that’s not true
The poor kid is lonely. She wants a family again. But, as brash as she may be, she doesn’t want to impose, especially on Daniil and Artemy
When she invades the house (which happens a lot), Daniil forces her to take a bath while he washes her clothes and that stupid beanie
Daniil tried to teach her how to swim (because i just know that girl can’t)
“Get over here and let me fix you” -Daniil, 24/7
I headcanon Clara with claws because she’s a weird little earthborn creature and deserves freaky bestial traits, and Daniil attempts (key word: ATTEMPTS) to clip them because they’re a safety hazard for EVERYONE, including herself, and she is SO DRAMATIC about it. yowling and crying like a dog getting its nails trimmed. Daniil thinks it’s amusing. and then she bites him.
She once fell asleep in his lap, and he Could Not Move
#these two are probably my favorite dynamic to imagine#there’s so much content for the twink and bull furry#WHERE IS THE TWINK AND FERAL CHILD CONTENT#feast my friends#feast!#pathologic#pathologic 2#pathologic headcanons#daniil dankovsky#daniil pathologic#the bachelor pathologic#clara the changeling#clara saburova#clara pathologic#artemy x daniil
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 22)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 23, Chapter 24
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Masterlist
Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 6,985
Summary: As Horacio's and Javier's stay in Manizales comes to an end, Elena has some words of wisdom and an unexpected offer for their future.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, religious themes, brief non-explicit sexual references, smoking, swearing.
Notes: As promised, here's the second half of their Manizales adventures. I'm still wrestling with editing chapter 23 at the moment, plus life has been kind of busy/stressful lately, so not sure when it will be ready to post. But the finish line is definitely within touching distance now ❤️
Thank you once again to anyone still reading/commenting/making moodboards and playlists or drawing, I'm blown away when my fic inspires others to create. I'll be making a proper masterlist once the fic is finished, where I'll link to everything people have made or have suggested playlist songs etc., plus there'll be my own playlist and moodboards.
Feel free to drop me a comment, whether it's about the new chapter or an older one, I'm always happy to chat 😊
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.
Chapter 22: Past, Present, Future
The early morning mist transformed into drizzle in the time it took Horacio to run around the farm boundaries, the spray cooling his clammy skin as he worked up a sweat. He left Javier to wake and shower at his own leisurely pace, a routine they had settled into since arriving here. Although two mornings ago, both Javier and Alejandra were suspiciously worse-for-wear, and Horacio didn’t see much of either of them until after lunch.
Today, they planned to join one of Fabián’s tours, which included a coffee-tasting session. So, even if the exercise hadn’t woken Horacio up, the caffeine certainly would.
The rain eased off once back at the finca, sunrays now straining to break through the low clouds as Horacio showered and dressed, somehow still beating Javier.
Tempting aromas from the kitchen let Horacio know his Mamá was already up and about after making the children breakfast before Alejandra dropped them off at school.
As he sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a glass of orange juice – his usual coffee would wait for later – both cats, Caturra and Bourbon, took turns rubbing themselves against his legs.
“You and Alejandra loved that stray cat when you were young,” said Elena, who had appeared from the larder with her arms full of eggs, chorizo and arepas. “What was her name?”
“Estrella.”
“She was the next best thing to a jaguar, and you were desperate to see one back then.”
“I remember. Never did, though.”
“Not many get the privilege these days.”
“Can’t say I blame them for keeping out of sight.”
Horacio remembered his Abuela Margarita telling him stories of how the jaguar, snake and condor were the original creators of the world and how the jaguar was tricked by man into parting with its power of fire. The feline creature was forced to survive on its cunning and strength alone, prowling around the mountains and jungles of Colombia, waiting patiently to exact revenge.
For too long, Horacio had stalked, clawed and mauled his prey all over Medellín, seeking vengeance on those who betrayed his country and its people. He was an apex predator maintaining balance and order in the food chain, not out of choice but necessity. A reluctant warrior backed into a corner until a palpable sense of duty kicked in when the threat was too real to ignore.
But whatever the unseen truth was, jaguars gained a reputation as ferocious killers, feared by humans until they became the hunted rather than the hunter, gunned down and chased into hiding and a life of solitude. An act of cowardice by the jaguar on the face of it, but these days, Horacio liked to think of it as an evolutionary advantage, the opposite side of the fight-or-flight coin.
“It’s understandable, yes. But a life in the shadows has its drawbacks.”
“True. But there can be a certain kind of freedom in the dark. Especially when those with flares want you dead.”
“Not everyone offering light wants that, Mijo.”
Horacio, who had focused on the floor for most of the conversation, finally looked up, hazel eyes mirrored back at him with extra shades of wisdom. His dour expression softened, and his shoulders sagged in concession. “I know.”
“Whilst I’ve got you here…” Elena trailed off, disappearing upstairs before returning with a small wooden trinket box.
She sat down at the table and extracted a gold chain from the box. “He’d want you to have it.”
Horacio stared at the pendants that swung back and forth like a pendulum clock as Elena held them out towards him. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips formed a sharp pout from how tightly he held his jaw in place. “Mamá, I can’t. Not after everything. Not after I ran away.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After I was injured, I went into hiding...in Laredo, Texas. And I quit.” He grasped his hands together and bowed his head as though in prayer, but he wasn’t sure even God could help him now he had confessed his sins. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. And I know you’re probably wondering why I went –”
“Javier.”
Horacio froze, undecided if he was caught off guard by the mention of Javier’s name or how he could hear his Mamá’s smile as she said it, as though it was the most glaringly obvious response anyone could ever have given.
“It’s okay, Mijo. You don’t have to explain yourself. He told me about the ranch whilst you and Alejandra cleaned up on your first night here.”
“That’s how you knew?”
“Well, not only that. I might be older these days, but I’m not blind.”
Elena chuckled, but Horacio could tell it wasn’t at his expense. So, he allowed his jaw some leeway, unclenching his teeth and facial muscles, almost appreciating the ache left behind. A chain reaction surged through his body, tension unknowingly carried for decades ebbing away now the secret he once believed would follow him to his grave was not only out but wasn’t being held against him.
And so he threw caution to the wind and let the floodgates open. He told his Mamá about Madrid and working on the ranch, about their plans for the future, about life in Laredo and even the crucifix, just in case she had noticed its absence and assumed the worst.
Talk of the crucifix prompted Elena to take one of Horacio’s hands in hers, where she deposited her gift of gold before he could refuse. “Take it. Please.” Her hand formed a dome over Horacio’s, fingers gently squeezing.
Once Elena withdrew, Horacio unfurled his palm and stared down at his very own El Dorado. “After my injury, I’d dream about this sometimes. And the stories you and Abuelita Mirabel told us about Bochica. I wish it’d been as easy as striking a staff to stop Escobar.”
“Bochica might have saved his people from drowning, but he couldn’t save them from the conquistadors and their gold-digging.”
Horacio rolled his eyes and sighed. “I know you don’t approve of Madrid, Mamá. And I know I’m no Bolívar, but –”
“Mijo, what are you talking about? I know you had your reasons for Madrid – even the second time. That’s not what I meant. And no one’s asking you to be Bolívar.”
A salient monument dedicated to Simón Bolívar stood in the centre of Manizales. The statue was half-man, half-condor, each entity synonymous with the other as national symbols of freedom and sovereignty. It still stung for Horacio to be reminded he had worn the Colombian coat of arms on his uniform sleeve every day, the proud condor flying above the motto Libertad y Orden (Freedom and Order) with Dios y Patria (God and Country) sworn beneath. But unlike Bolívar and Bochica, Horacio was unable to liberate his people.
Instead, he had sought refuge in two countries that had interfered the most with Colombia's autonomy. He had made a home on the land of the former Empire and used the gringos to his advantage when it suited him, never mind allowing one of them into his heart and bed.
Elena pressed her hand tenderly to Horacio’s cheek, the conflict in his mind apparently written all over his face. It was an action he had been on the receiving end of throughout childhood, but one that still had the power to soothe him as though no time had passed since.
“You’re also forgetting Chibchacum’s role in Bochica’s story,” she continued. “He was the one punished to carry the world on his back for creating the flood in the first place. Bochica did the best he could in terrible circumstances, and that’s all anyone could ask for.”
Memories re-surfaced of Abuelita Mirabel sitting between Horacio and Alejandra on the sofa, a blanket spread across the three of them, where she told of how every time there was an earthquake in Colombia, it was the weight of the world shifting on Chibchacum’s back. Little did Horacio know that would become a feeling he was all too familiar with when he was older.
But his Mamá was right; he wasn’t Chibchacum or Bochica. And he certainly wasn't Bolívar. But neither was his Papá.
So, he took a deep breath and raised the chain to unclip the fastening. From there, he attached it behind his neck, letting the deity and the angel finally rest against his skin.
“Beautiful,” Elena said, her eyes suddenly glossy and the corner of her lips twitching.
“Thank you.” Horacio held his Mamá’s gaze until it was necessary to look away and clear his throat. “What else is in there, anyway?” He swiftly motioned towards the box.
Elena passed it over to Horacio so he could look for himself. Nestled inside were his Papá’s wedding ring and lapel pins, his Abuelo Ignacio’s St. Michael’s cross, rosary beads, an old pack of Deportivo Independiente Medellín trading cards, a postcard of an orange grove with handwriting Horacio recognised as his Mamá’s on the back, and a black and white photograph of a young boy draped in a police jacket that was far too big for him. Behind him stood his father in the rest of the uniform the jacket belonged to.
“Is that Papá and Abuelo Ignacio?”
Elena laughed. “Of course!” She got up again without explanation, re-appearing with a photo album this time.
She flicked through it until she found what she was looking for. “Where do you think we got the idea for this from?”
She was pointing at an almost identical picture. The two boys in the photos had the same thick dark hair and charcoal eyes, a resemblance that would carry through into adulthood – although Horacio built up more muscle than his father ever did.
Horacio smiled. “I remember that being taken. It was my first day at school.”
“It was his idea before you set off for school, and he set off for work. He made sure I was ready with the camera when you came downstairs in your uniform.”
“I never knew it was his idea.” The dejection was evident in Horacio’s voice, even if he tried to hide it.
“He might not have said it much, but he was so proud of you, you know. And so am I.”
Horacio swallowed hard with his eyes shut, anything to hold himself together. “I used to take this when you weren’t looking,” he managed to get out, gesturing towards the photo album. “Same with some of the other old albums we had. Well, I kept a couple of them, actually.” He chuckled at the thought of the albums currently residing on a shelf in Madrid. “I always went back to the photos and his uniform for some reason.”
“You didn’t have to hide it from me.”
“Neither did you with us.”
“I know. But you were both so young. You didn’t need that burden on top of everything else.”
“You could never be a burden, Mamá.”
“You and Alejandra were busy forging your careers. I had to stay strong at work, helping people worse off than me. So, I saved most of it for my prayers and Día de Todos los Santos.”
Horacio remembered attending Mass and his Papá’s grave every Día de Todos los Santos. But it was different to Día de Muertos. They weren’t welcoming his Papá home; they were praying for those in purgatory and heaven. And as much as he liked to think his Papá was a saint, there was always a part of him terrified that if he didn’t pray hard enough, his Papá would never be cleansed of his sins.
“I was in Laredo for Día de Muertos. Javier’s father – Chucho – had a box like this for Javier’s mother – Mariana. He used it to make an ofrenda for her.”
Another piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place for Elena in a look that combined realisation with sympathy. Another loss, another parallel, another explanation.
“A beautiful tradition,” she concluded.
“Yeah, it is. One that remembers the people we’ve lost as we knew them and welcomes them back home.”
“A bit like this, you mean?”
“Something like that.”
“Whilst we’re here…there’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Go on.”
“Money from the house sale in Medellín has been sitting in a bank account since I moved here, along with some left over from your Papá. The plan was to split it between you and Alejandra when I’m gone, but…why wait?”
“What? But Mamá, that’s your money.”
“Technically, half of it is your Papá’s. But he’s not here. And who better to put that money to good use than his children?”
“Even though I wouldn’t have children of my own to return the favour one day?”
It was a question that had lingered on the tip of Horacio’s tongue since arriving here. A question he had tried to ignore for a long time before that, if he was honest. He learned of Juliana’s first pregnancy from his Mamá, who had heard the news from a friend of a friend. That was all she said on the matter, but Horacio was never sure whether he imagined the traces of disappointment in her voice that it wasn’t his child.
“Horacio, do you really think that matters to me?”
There was no disappointment in Elena’s tone now, just incredulous confusion that made Horacio regret his words.
“Even if I wasn’t surrounded by my amorcitos every single day, I would want you and Alejandra to make your own choices. Live your own lives. If that doesn’t involve children for you, then so be it.”
Horacio nodded, his lungs expelling a freeing breath he hadn't been aware was trapped in the depths of his rib cage. “Have you spoken to Alejandra about the money?”
“Not yet. But I know the farm needs repairs, and they’ve always got plans for this place. Same as the ranch.”
“I don’t own the ranch, though, Mamá.”
“No. But from everything you’ve told me about Chucho, he obviously trusts you with his business. And I don’t imagine you and Javier will want to live in a guesthouse for the rest of your lives. Visas don’t come cheap, either.”
Of course, she was right on all three counts. Horacio had a lot of on-the-job training ahead of him. He would effectively be starting from scratch again. But Chucho had welcomed him with open arms into his home and livelihood. It wasn’t implausible that if Horacio had ideas for the ranch, Chucho would take them on board.
They hadn't discussed living arrangements yet, but Horacio was confident neither he nor Javier had envisaged the guesthouse as a permanent solution. And then there was the small matter of Horacio’s visa. The paperwork upon which their future in Laredo hinged. He tried not to think about all the different ways it could go wrong or what they would do if it did. But that was a problem for another day. A problem that would no doubt be made easier with extra money in tow.
So, he ignored the whispering ghosts of his ancestors because his Mamá was right; he wasn’t doing this for his Papá. And he certainly wasn’t doing it for the people of Colombia, past or present.
“Okay,” he said in the end. “But only if Alejandra agrees to it, too.”
The sound of a throat being cleared caught them off guard and drew a temporary line under the conversation.
“Morning,” Javier greeted as he hovered by the kitchen door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Of course, he knew he was and an apology with his eyes was all he could offer Horacio for the time being.
“Good morning, Javier. And on the contrary! How do you feel about calentado?”
Whatever Javier had been expecting Elena’s response to be, for some reason, it wasn’t that. He looked towards Horacio for the slightest hint about what he had walked in on.
Horacio wanted to explain everything – and later he would – but for now, he ushered Javier to sit down.
“Er, sounds perfect, thanks,” Javier told Elena as his foot found Horacio’s under the table.
And as the three of them chatted and helped prepare breakfast, Horacio had to admit Javier was right.
------------------------------------------------------
The coffee tour took up the rest of the morning. It was no wonder Horacio had always been particular on the subject when he knew which were the best beans and blends to be found in Colombia. He still had occasional pangs for his former life, but the weak instant shit the gringos brought with them to Carlos Holguín wasn’t one of them.
Naturally, the heavens opened before the end of the tour – bad for the tourists but good for the soil – and by the time they had returned to the finca, another shower was required.
They showered together, the finca empty for a change. Plus, they had nothing to hide anymore – at least not with the people that mattered the most. That hadn’t quite sunk in for Horacio even after he told Javier everything. Even when his last defences buckled, and he broke down in Javier's arms, letting himself be held. Even when he was kissing Javier, slow and deep, in his family’s bathroom, their breaths heavy and desperate in such a confined space.
One thing could easily have led to another as Horacio pinned Javier against the cold tiles, bare skin seeking out bare skin, emotions running high. There was no doubt they wanted it to, and in almost any other circumstance, it would have.
“Not here,” Horacio whispered, his voice shaking and his forehead falling against Javier’s as he was hit by a sudden clarity of thought. “I’m sorry.”
Javier hushed lightly, cradling Horacio against his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” He kissed across damp hair, running his fingers through thick strands that always became curlier when wet. “We don’t have to do anything.”
Light strokes soon morphed into lathered hands as Javier washed and rinsed Horacio’s hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp and soothing away stubborn remnants of tension.
Although a niggling knot remained, an unspoken question and an uninitiated conversation. “When I was talking with my mother earlier…” Horacio began, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to let the hot jets cascade down his neck and shoulders.
Javier hummed in encouragement, his lips following the water droplets, enveloping Horacio in a blanket of warmth from all angles.
“She reassured me she wouldn’t be disappointed if I never had children.” Horacio let his words hang in the white noise of the shower, giving Javier time to adjust to the change of subject.
“Did you think she would be?”
“It crossed my mind. So much has been passed down through the Carrillo side of my family. From my Abuelo to my Papá. From my Papá to me.”
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but four of your nieces and nephews are around here somewhere.”
Horacio let out a light huff. “Like I could forget. But…they’re Alejandra’s, not mine.”
“I know. But I think you’re forgetting the real question here. Would you be disappointed?”
“Back when I was younger, when I was with Juliana, I might’ve said yes. More out of expectation than anything else. But with you…I think we ripped up and threw away the rule book a long time ago.”
“Thank fuck for that. We’ve never been very good at following rules anyway.”
It didn't take long for them both to laugh at such a flagrant understatement.
“So, you do feel the same then?” Horacio asked in earnest.
“I was less than an hour away from getting my very own white fucking picket fence. If I’d wanted it, I could’ve had it. But that wasn’t my idea of the American Dream.”
Horacio turned in Javier’s arms, and the last seed of doubt was finally plucked from his mind. His lips captured Javier’s again, a statement of intent for their future. A future they no longer had to hide from their families.
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Javier seated himself in the large wooden gazebo at the end of the garden, which doubled as a viewing platform over the steep valley below. For once, sunlight had won the battle against the mist, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. It made it possible to see for miles, giving the illusion of being high amongst the surrounding trees alongside the raucous birdlife living in their branches.
It was their penultimate morning in Manizales, upon which Javier had changed a habit of a lifetime by getting up with Horacio. They had penned in some sightseeing of the city later. But for now, Horacio had gone for his usual run, and Javier started the day with possibly the best coffee he had ever drunk.
“May I join you?”
Javier looked up from his cup and cleared his throat. “Oh, er, of course.”
As Elena sat down, the sun glinted off the silver jewellery bonded to Javier’s chest, making them squint at its reflection. He instinctively brought a hand to his neck in a fumbled effort to shove the crucifix beneath the open collar of his shirt.
“You don’t need to do that, you know.”
Fuck. He'd been busted.
However, Elena's voice contained no traces of judgment, and it quickly put Javier at ease. He lowered his hand to his knee, giving a brief bob of the head before taking another sip of coffee.
“I still wear these.” Elena raised her left hand, showing off a sparkling diamond ring above a plain gold band. “The amount of awkward questions about the whereabouts of my husband these have caused over the years. Yet I still can’t bring myself to take them off. Although…”
With her right hand, she took hold of the top ring and wiggled it off her finger, then did the same with the second ring, with more force required this time.
Javier wasn’t sure what was happening until the dappled morning light fell on the inside of the ring he held up to his face.
Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja
(Lucky that I found my soulmate)
“It’s beautiful.”
“Eduardo wasn’t a man of many words, but he had his moments.” Elena’s smile took on a wistful appearance as Javier passed the ring back.
“My Pops is the same with his wedding ring. He insists on wearing it every day, which isn’t really compatible with the day job.”
“I can imagine. I hear it became Horacio’s day job, too?”
“Yeah,” Javier said with an involuntary grin. “I know it might be hard to believe, and I know it’s not what he expected, but it suits him.” Literally as well figuratively, he managed to stop himself from blurting out.
“I can’t remember him ever saying he wanted to be anything other than a police officer. My parents ran a textile business, and Eduardo’s mother was a nurse. But Horacio followed his father, who followed his father like it was their birthright. I always worried about Eduardo, especially if he was running late or was called to an emergency. Then it was the same with Horacio, too. So much blood spilt on our doorsteps, on our streets, in our churches.”
Elena promptly picked up her cup, the balm of hot fruit tea required before she could continue.
“Whenever the phone rang – or I heard a knock at the door – I prepared for the worst. It happened to so many friends and neighbours. So why not my husband or son? Of course, it was Eduardo’s heart in the end. But once Search Bloc made Horacio a walking target, it was only a matter of time. I’d spent years expecting it, but what I hadn’t accounted for in all of my fretting, pacing, and prayers…was you.”
“Me?”
“He told me what you did. How much trouble you and your partner got in for it. How you got injured yourself. How…you saved my son and his men.”
“We couldn’t save them all,” was Javier’s sole response to the lashings of praise he still wasn’t convinced he truly deserved in light of how the ambush came about in the first place.
“You saved more than your superiors were willing to, by the sounds of it.”
Javier scoffed. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“Good. And as for the ranch…he’s always liked to keep busy. Just like his father, he could never sit still and relax for long. I can see it. I bet he looks the part.”
“He does, actually.” That was allowed, Javier told himself.
“I thought something had changed after his injury, even if he wouldn’t tell us much. I hoped he’d seen sense, but I knew he was prepared to die for that mission of his – that obsession. I’d almost accepted it, to be honest, especially without Eduardo around to stop him. So, when he told me he’d quit, you were the only reason that made sense.”
“Ever since my Mamá passed, I tried to change things – or control them, at least. Anything to not feel that…helpless again. But it didn’t work like that. Walking away was the only choice left.”
“But it was a choice you both made. That can’t have been easy. I may not have known you very long, but it’s already clear to me you’re good for each other.”
“Even though I’m a gringo?”
“We all have our flaws.” Not only did Elena catch the humour in Javier’s eyes, but she matched and surpassed it with her own. “But to answer your question properly…I would say the complicated histories of our homelands have more in common than meets the eye.”
Javier hummed as he had flashbacks to high school of learning about Laredo starting life as a Spanish colonial settlement before a bloody tug-of-war between Mexico and America – and independence from both – had broken out. There was no denying he had benefited from certain privileges of owning an American passport, and he’d always accepted the gringo label without much pushback. But deep down, he knew it was only half the story.
“You’ve shown each other new paths,” Elena continued. “Safer and happier ones. And that’s what counts.”
“Not quite sure what my new path is yet, to be honest. I’ve spent so long running away from Laredo. I’ve forgotten what it means to live there.”
“It took me a long time to accept my place was here now rather than Medellín. Whenever there was a bombing, or a shooting, or a kidnapping, I had to stop myself from getting on a plane. But Horacio worried I’d be a target because of him. He didn’t want me there. And what could I have done anyway?” Elena let out a self-deprecating huff at the mere thought.
“You wanted to protect your son.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. Medellín was my home and my work. And many of Eduardo’s friends and colleagues were killed. Their wives were sisters to me after his death. But I couldn’t return the favour from down here. Not in the same way, at least. I sent cards, flowers, food parcels, even money sometimes. But it never felt enough.”
“It never does.”
“No. It doesn’t. But I did what I could. And being there for Alejandra and the kids made me feel useful. I got involved with the church again. Worked for a small charity. Even though we’ve been protected from the violence here, the repercussions of it spread far and wide. So many displaced families in need. At least I was making a difference somewhere.”
“I thought I was making a difference. And maybe sometimes I was. But I don’t think it was ever really my fight.”
“Perhaps not. But maybe it helped lead you to the right one.”
“Maybe.”
Javier’s mind drifted back to the family history his Pops told him over the phone in Madrid, not just about his Mamá but his grandparents too. Not to mention all his Pops had done for the local community over the years. He thought of the stories Señora Romero had shared and the kindness she had shown him and Horacio. They had all made a difference in their own ways. And they had done it without leaving their cities, let alone their countries.
As Elena excused herself to ensure Mateo and Sofía weren’t starting another civil war in the kitchen, Javier nursed his coffee cup and surveyed the meandering scenery below. For the first time since he told Stechner to go fuck himself, he could see the outline of a path emerging in front of him. He wasn’t exactly sure where it was leading yet, but at least it was something. Something closer to home.
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Their last day in Manizales came faster than Horacio had expected, presumably a side effect of waiting for the other shoe to drop any minute. Miraculously, it never did.
“Knock knock.”
Horacio looked up from the bed where he was wrestling with the zip of his suitcase – and currently losing. “Morning.” Another tug, but it wouldn’t shift. “You just gonna watch me?”
“Because you’re usually so good at accepting help.” With a dry smile and shake of the head, Alejandra came to the rescue with less heavy-handedness than her brother, unjamming the zip in seconds.
“I’m better than I was.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“And thank you, by the way.” Horacio stood up, lifting the case from the bed and bringing himself face-to-face with his sister. “For everything.”
Alejandra nodded, maintaining eye contact with Horacio long enough to be distracted by the sunlight dancing across the gold chain around his neck. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. Better than it collecting dust in a box.”
“I don’t just mean the necklace.”
The subtle glow of Horacio's pupils mirrored Alejandra's before he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.
“You too. And don’t leave it so long next time.”
“We won’t. I promise.”
“If it helps, I can sweeten the deal with a stay at one of the hot springs around here. They’re always giving me freebies for supplying their coffee. One of them has private thermal pools and everything.”
“You don’t have to bribe me to visit.” However, the thought of it being him, Javier, and a jacuzzi was enough for him to re-think his position on taking bribes. “Plus, I wanna see what you do with the place.”
“So you can take inspiration?”
Horacio rolled his eyes. “You wish. If you think you can handle the Texan climate, you know where we’ll be.”
“Don’t worry, I can and I will.”
“We about ready?” Javier appeared in the doorway with the rest of their luggage, pausing at the threshold. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Again.
“It’s okay; your boyfriend was just inviting us all to the ranch.”
It had only been an innocuous comment, but Alejandra managed to stop both men in their tracks with one word, a bashful look passing between them at the novelty of it.
“Oh, er, that’s great. The more the merrier.” Javier recovered just in time, although the flush in his cheeks showed no sign of abating. “My Pops always makes enough food for the population of Texas, so you’d be more than welcome.”
“Likewise here, Javier. As long as you bring more aguardiente next time.” She winked and drew him in for a hug.
“I think that can be arranged.” Javier broke away first so he could look at Alejandra properly. “And thank you…for everything this week.”
Alejandra gave a bob of the head once more, her smile widening as she glanced from Javier to Horacio, the depth of their gratitude beyond words but written all over their faces. “It’s what big sisters are for.”
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After eating enough breakfast to last them for most of their journey to Medellín – the rest supplemented by Elena’s homemade empanadas and cocadas – they were stood back on the front porch again.
There was a chorus of goodbyes this time, ones that didn’t have the foreboding air of finality about them as they had done in the past.
Horacio allowed his Mamá to clutch him with all her strength, the scent of her perfume transporting him straight back to childhood.
“You take care of each other, you hear? And keep me updated on your visa. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, Mamá. I will.”
“Y no olvide su español.” (And don’t forget your Spanish)
“No lo haré, Mamá.” (I won’t, Mamá) Horacio barely managed to suppress a tone of amused exasperation, given that he had been surrounded by almost as many Spanish voices in Laredo as in Colombia.
“Javier, you heard all of that. So, don’t let him forget.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Javier received the same treatment as Horacio with a bracing hug.
“Don’t be a stranger, Mijo. And don’t fret about finding that path. Just remember to follow your heart.”
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The light was fading fast, leaving behind a watercolour blend of ambers, yellows and reds that blazed against a backdrop of purple haze and the ethereal silhouette of ancient mountains. The glimmer of city life below felt distant, as though they had left this world altogether and now lived above the clouds.
Which was fine by them as they caught their breath; Horacio draped over Javier’s lap in the passenger’s seat, the culmination of their release glistening across their stomachs.
“Just like old times,” Horacio panted as trails of kisses became interspersed with heady laughter.
“Well, not exactly.” Javier’s thumb and forefinger delicately held the silver and gold pendants at their chests before untangling the chains that had become knotted during their tryst.
“No.” Horacio brought his forehead to meet Javier’s, an instant tonic to the painful twinge gripping their hearts as memories of their last visit to this spot resurfaced. “I told you we’d make up for lost time this past week, though.”
“Yeah, I figured you meant in the hotel. Or even back in Madrid. Not the minute you parked up in Medellín.”
“Like you were complaining.”
“Fuck, no, I wasn’t. Less likely to be overheard up here than in the hotel anyway.”
Once Horacio had regained enough feeling in his limbs to dismount and sit back in the driver’s seat, Javier reached for the glove box. He took out their emergency stash of cigarettes and lit up.
Horacio attempted to clean himself up as best he could and did the same for Javier. “So, this is why you brought those with us.” He nodded towards the cigarettes.
“Obviously.” Javier took a long drag and exhaled with a deep sigh, his body latching on quickly to the nicotine, his mind still blitzed.
They passed their shared smoke back and forth in comfortable silence, basking in their afterglows and the aftermath of the last few days.
“You still like it up here then?” Horacio asked after stubbing out the butt in the ashtray between them.
“Yeah, I do. Don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking so beautiful.”
“Me neither. Funny how the same view can look completely different in a new light.”
Javier hummed in agreement, their gaze now fixed on each other rather than the windshield, the irony not lost that they were back in the same spot where it could easily all have ended.
"I can think of a way to make it even better, though.”
“Go on.”
In a flurry of movement, Javier zipped up his jeans, pulled on his shirt and got out of the car. He rustled around in the trunk until he retrieved a couple of spare towels they had packed for emergencies, along with their jackets. It wasn’t quite the thick blanket from the ranch, but at least it was a mild night.
They sprawled out on the grass behind the car, lying atop the towels and wrapped in their jackets. Javier propped his head on a folded sweater with Horacio resting against his chest at an angle that allowed them both to take in the cityscape below.
“How about we just stay here forever?” Javier rasped between slow, sensual kisses.
Horacio moaned against Javier’s lips as he went back for more. “Don’t tempt me. At least we didn’t book an early flight tomorrow.”
“Good point.” Another string of kisses, each more addictive than the last.
“Although,” Horacio began once they had calmed down, his fingers tracing patterns across Javier’s torso, "we’ve got a lot to sort out once we’re back in Madrid.”
“I know. But at least we ripped off the band-aid.” One of Javier’s hands found Horacio’s and slotted their fingers together.
“I spent so much energy worrying about this trip; I was almost expecting something bad to happen.”
Javier raised their linked hands to his mouth and brushed his lips over Horacio’s knuckles. “But it didn’t.”
“No. In fact…I think I know what I want to do with the money.”
“Oh yeah?”
“If you and your father agree to it, that is. And I can find a good lawyer.”
Javier lifted his head slightly and turned in Horacio's direction, urging him to continue.
“I was thinking….what if we bought the corn farm? The three of us, I mean.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah. I think I am.” Horacio couldn’t help but laugh now he’d said it out loud. “Like I said, I’d need to check everything with a lawyer about my visa first. But there is an option for investors. And you still have some of your money from the ranch, right?”
“Yeah, I do. And obviously, you can count me in. But…shit, Horacio. Are you sure? I mean, it’s your inheritance.”
“It's nothing Alejandra isn't doing with her share. And well, if your father bought it outright, an empty cottage would go to waste on our doorstep. Last I looked, it needed a bit of maintenance, but it wasn’t in bad shape.”
Now, it was Javier’s turn to laugh. “Got it all figured out, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“It’s funny, ‘cos, er...I’ve been thinking, too. About something your Mamá said.”
“About what?”
“About looking closer to home for a new path. And I think I might have found it.”
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They only meant to stay until they got too cold, but their shared body heat let them doze until sunrise. The watercolour skyline re-emerged from behind the mountain tops, gradually bathing Medellín in a heavenly half-light, stirring them awake as it reached their hideaway.
The plan was to freshen up and have breakfast at the hotel before dropping off the hire car and heading to the airport after lunch. But there was something Horacio needed to do whilst the city wasn’t fully awake, whilst the low sun felt like a gift from God Himself.
As they pulled up a stone’s throw away from Horacio’s old family church – a few blocks down from his childhood home and former apartment that Trujillo had cleared after his hasty exit from Carlos Holguín – Javier hesitated, unsure if this was something Horacio needed to do alone.
“Come with me,” Horacio said after stepping out of the car as though he had read Javier’s mind. “Please.”
That was all the confirmation Javier needed to follow.
They walked silently along a well-kept pathway that forked off in multiple directions. It was maze-like and disorientating, but Horacio took purposeful strides despite how long it had been since his last visit.
He halted at a large marble slate engraved with a crucifix and the CNP emblem. There were some dried old flowers in a vase at the base of it, where Horacio knelt down and swapped them for the fresh bunch of marigolds he’d carried from the car.
“A gift from Mamá,” he whispered. “She’ll be back again soon.”
Horacio remained on the grass and brought his hands up to the back of his neck, where he unhooked the gold chain. He studied it between his fingers, then clasped it in his palm and bowed his head.
The cemetery was empty at this time in the morning, the loud rustling in the trees drowning out the murmur of traffic beginning to burst into life.
Javier watched wordlessly a few feet behind Horacio, almost beginning to feel like he was intruding.
“Pray with me.”
“Are you sure? What if someone –”
“I’m sure. No one’s here but us.”
Javier checked around them once, then twice, just in case. Even if someone did happen to come by, two men praying over a grave wasn’t exactly the most compromising position they could be found in. But it was better to be safe than sorry.
Once satisfied, Javier joined Horacio on the grass. They couldn’t get away with how they had done this in private, but Horacio dropped his right hand to the floor beside him, palm outstretched.
Javier took the hint and discreetly placed his left hand over the top, encasing the gold necklace between them.
With heads lowered and eyes closed, they prayed. An unspoken acknowledgement of all they had lost and how it had led them here. They honoured memories made, those that would never be, and those they could still make together despite everything.
Horacio’s eyes fluttered open as the sunlight fell on the headstone above him, forcing him to blink away a glassy sheen. His hand stayed connected with Javier’s on the earth, his present and future by his side, giving him strength to finally make peace with his past.
He rose to his feet and made the sign of the cross on his chest before running his fingers along the embossed letters of his father’s name. “Te quiero mucho, Papá.”
Javier gave as much time as was needed until risking a gentle squeeze of Horacio’s shoulder. “You ready?”
Horacio looked from the gravestone to Javier, the charcoal of his irises burning with the fire of conviction. “I’m ready.”
#Narcos fic#Narcos#Javier Peña#Horacio Carrillo#Carrillo#Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo#Pedro Pascal#Maurice Compte#Narcos fanfic#Narcos fanfiction#Narcos fan fic#My Fan Fic#My Narcos Fic
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BG3 Tav Backstory Bash
This is a challenge to help people flesh out their Tav’s backstory by exploring their past. It is organized into four sections with seven prompts. You can treat this as a monthly challenge or a general project. You can write headcanons, fics, or share art based on the prompts! You can interpret the prompts however you want. If you want to share use the tag #bg3backstorybash
Thank you @elspethdekarios for tagging me!
I´ve seen most of my choices have already been tagged, so I´ll tag the remaining ones that come to mind.
@galesdevoteewife @necromosss @theletteraesc @gufu-vire
I have not worked through all of the prompts, so do not forget to take a look at @kelandrin's original post where all prompts can be found.
Athena Dekarios née Asteriadis
High Half-Elf • Paladin-Cleric• Acolyte of Lathander • Neutral Good
Parents
Father: Amicus Asteriadis
Human artist and craftsman who was unpredictable in his violent tendencies and preference for sticking to himself. He moved to Baldur´s Gate as a young man once he found out his love - Athena´s mother - was planning on running away to the city.
Mother: Keylana Alastrarra
High-born Elf from the noble house of Alastrarra in Cormanthyr. She fell in love with Amicus, while he was performing in the city. Her parents disapproved, so she ran away to Baldur´s Gate in the hopes of a future with him. She became a merchant, but quickly let herself become corrupted. Knowing no responsibility, erratic behavior grew and she ended up taking lovers. Having grown up with money - which she no longer had - she was in the habit of spending too much; leading to terrible conflicts with her husband. (Who was a mere craftsman and very thrifty.)
Birth
Athena was the firstborn and came 8 years before her brother. Her birth was easy, unlike the pregnancy which had been heavy with nausea. She knew her mother had sung to her as a baby and toddler, even having gone so far as to invent her own lullaby for her, but later on their bond became severed and Athena was incapable of forming a bond with her mother. Her father was the one always there for her, despite his violent behavior and emotional abuse towards her. The abuse she had to suffer built the foundation for her strong personality later on, making it difficult for her to trust others.
First word
Plain old "Dada" followed by "bread".
When they first walked
Once Athena started walking at the age of 11 months, nothing was safe. She was particularly interested in books - but not necessarily in looking at them, but rather to use them as countertop for her baking experiments. She was scolded more than once for playing with flour on a green covered book, which she later found out was a book about plants and their different uses.
Tantrum
Athena would never forget that one tantrum she threw as a toddler, where she was on a flea market and saw a mountain lion plush toy. She wanted it so badly that she cried bitter tears, begged and threw herself to the ground. It was the same day she had been too trusting when faced with a big dog, who nearly bit her hand off. To her astonishment, she got the Mountain Lion plush toy. (And still feels bad for having acted out as a toddler.)
First sickness
Measles
Friends
Never really had friends, due to her mistrustful nature and difficulty in forming bonds. She was the awkward know-it-all who did her own thing. Later on Jaheira becomes her best friend.
Siblings
Has a younger brother - Evan - which she basically raised due to neglectful parents. They both know they are there for each other when necessary, but barely maintain contact. He owns a tavern in Waterdeep.
Getting into trouble
Despite her parents´ boasting about her to outsiders, she remains the black sheep of the family due to her reluctance in complying with her father´s demands and open hostility towards her mother´s behavior. She ran away often as a teen, once her parents had separated shortly after her brother´s birth.
Birthday Eleasis 13th
Learning something new
As a Priestess of Lathander she is on a constant journey of self-improvement, which includes learning. May it be combat, medicine or a new spell - she is always gaining new knowledge.
Trauma
One of her mother´s lovers sexually harassed her,
and a boy from the neighborhood tried to assault her. (It didn´t end well for him, but it made her even more cautious.)
First love
She fell in love with Jidam - a classmate who had longer brown hair and striking blue eyes - when she was thirteen years old. He mistreated her and made her the laughingstock of their year, but her devotion never faltered. A girl she thought her friend ended up getting involved with him.
Rebellion
Moved out as a teen and sought refuge in Lathander´s Temple in Waterdeep where she became an Acolyte.
Reckless behavior
Athena never was one for recklessness. Her difficult childhood and devotion to Lathander gifted her with wisdom beyond her years.
Peer pressure
Athena was known for her defiance of the masses and did not cave to peer pressure. The only time she fell for peer pressure she ended up stealing something from a big shop around the corner. Feeling bad afterwards, she donated everything stolen; keeping only four books which made her difficult younger years bearable.
Growing pains
Growing pains plagued her during her teens - usually at night. She could feel it in her bones but never complained.
Taking responsibility
All the responsibility seemed to be on her shoulders from an early age on. First the mediator between parents, then the bodyguard of her mother when lovers turned too unpleasant, afterwards a mother to her brother.
Serious relationships
She only had one partner before Gale and was engaged to him.
Stephanus was a very analytical and stoic man, who had difficulties showing affection, lusted after other women and was an egoistical lover. He was averse to building a family, and Lathander was not pleased to see his Chosen in a union with such a man, leading to a conversation between the god and Athena. She eventually broke up.
Work
She used to serve Lathander in the Spires of the Morning. Later on she became a Paladin of Lathander, serving as a member of the Order of Aster.
Once she returns to Waterdeep with Gale, she becomes a Priestess of Lathander - she also teaches and practices midwifery in that function.
Aging
Due to her nature as a half-elf and being blessed by Lathander, as well as married to the Chosen of Mystra, who could prolong life, she could technically live forever.
Starting a family
Athena and Gale end up being the parents of three children - two boys and a girl.
#bg3backstorybash#bg3#baldur’s gate 3#tav#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale x oc#gale x tav#original female character#acolyte of lathander#lathander#dnd#rpg#waterdeep#baldur´s gate#background#story#character#paladin#priestess of lathander#character creation#faerun#forgotten realms#gaming#video game#romance#bg3 tav#athena dekarios
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