#and then they start trying to barter their shifts so they can spend it acting like a complete dumbass in front of them

[eudico-my-beloved]

My arm hurts like hell and my hand wont stop shaking but this idea came to me randomly

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Dark Antoni: The Job

In another universe, Antoni took out Mr. Davies - and set himself up as a talented, discreet hitman-for-hire. His latest assignment takes an unexpected turn. Features @comfy-whumpee‘s Jax Gallagher, used with permission.

CW: Intimate whumper, character death, severe trauma dissoci@tion, noncon touch, noncon kissing, implied noncon (interrupted), referenced noncon, long-term captivity, conditioned response

---

Antoni watches through the scope as the target's husband gives her a kiss, a faint smile, places the drink in her hand. Through his earpiece, he hears her voice, low and sultry, as their fingers brush. “Come sit with me.”

The husband moves like a man pulled by someone else’s invisible strings, sitting next to her on the chaise, letting her turn his head with the barest brush of fingers over his chin. She pulls him in for a kiss.

Antoni’s well-hidden, and not worried they'll see him, finger hovering over the trigger. They’re lined up perfectly like this. He could kill them both, one-two shot, drop the target before her husband’s body even hits the floor.

Something in the way the husband moves, though, stops him.

He bugged the house two days ago - or rather, he has the existing bugs feeding into his own earpiece now, the target’s own obsessive need for total control and security turned against her. The cameras are off, he took remote control of those and switched those screens to black.

He wonders if the husband knows about all the cameras, or if Savannah Marcoset had them placed without his knowledge. Maybe she’s worried about infidelity. Maybe she’s suspicious about assassination.

If she is, he hasn’t heard her say anything about it.

He's listened to them for two days while he planned the kill. Antoni has been privy to every gentle I love you, every moment they spend together, more than a few moments he would rather not have heard at all.

The husband is to all appearances utterly devoted, entirely in love, and…

Something isn't right. 

He needs to pull the trigger and finish the job - his client specifically wants them both out of the picture. If she goes, he goes. They’ll be together, they’re never apart, but I can’t have any witnesses who can be questioned after the bitch is dead. 

Too great a chance of retaliation by the family, and the client was sure the husband would be little more than a liability. Antoni doesn’t like liabilities, and he doesn’t leave witnesses.

Still… his instincts are screaming at him not to drop the husband, too. 

He hesitates, equivocates, waits far too long as the woman downs her drink and lays back, laughing softly, pulling her husband down on the chaise with her. Her dress, a flimsy, filmy thing she wore to the gala they have just returned from, drapes just so against the velvet fabric of the chaise. Her husband’s suit is perfectly tailored, and she undoes his jacket buttons with one hand while they kiss, her other hand behind his neck, tangled in his brown hair.

She murmurs something even the bugs don’t pick up, and laughs. The husband smiles back, and drops his head, kissing along the column of her neck, pale and draped in heavy jewels that contrast with how thin her dress is. She hums, tightens her fingers against his nape, arches her back to press against him.

He makes a sound, an exhale with just a touch of voice, and an alarm goes off inside Antoni’s head, one that stubbornly refuses to explain itself. 

Antoni can’t figure out what he’s missing here, crouched up at the railing of the stairs with his rifle still aimed, watching as she slides the jacket off her husband’s shoulders, nips playfully at his lips, his nose, his chin. 

“I love you,” She whispers against his lips, and even from here Antoni can see his responding shiver.

“I love you, too.” His voice is low and soft, barely audible. The hand at his neck pushes his head down towards her chest, her other making quick work now of the buttons on his crisp white shirt. She rolls her hips up against his, her hair a waterfall of shimmering dark brown, nearly black, curls and waves. She looks like a Renaissance painting.

They look like a portrait of two people madly in love.

“Do you want me?” She asks, in a tone that says she already knows the answer, head tilted to watch him, hand slipping into the open front of his shirt to run down his stomach. He exhales loud enough for the bugs to pick it up and translate the sound into Antoni’s earpiece.

“Of course.” The husband’s accent is faded, but there - English, fits with what Antoni saw in the description of the assignments, his research files. “Of course I do, Savvie.”

Finger still hovering millimeters from the trigger, Antoni thinks over his files again.

Savannah Marcoset, queenpin of a human trafficking empire.

Run by her father's family until her paternal uncle's sudden death by car accident six years ago, shortly after Savannah married her longtime partner. 

Savannah Marcoset, a violin prodigy that burned out young and faded away from the spotlight, reclusive until she took control of the family business, now a sparkling socialite. Married to one Jackson Marcoset, neé Gallagher, UK resident by birth. Unclear how they met or became romantically involved. Estranged from family. 

Something is wrong about this picture.

“Of course I want you,” The husband says, in a low voice that could very nearly have passed for desirous. “I always want you.”

Antoni knows, all at once, exactly what his intuition is trying to tell him.

Jax Marcoset is just like Chris, and he has been like Chris for a very long time.

Antoni makes the decision in an instant, following his instincts where they lead him. When Savannah Marcoset hikes up the skirt on her dress and pushes her husband’s head down between her legs, Antoni aims and fires in a single silenced shot.

Savvie’s body jerks as the bullet goes right between her eyes.

The husband looks up, staring blankly, then scrambles back in belated panic as he sees the single small hole in her forehead, empty glazed eyes. “S-Savvie? Savvie, what-... what’s-”

“Hands in the air,” Antoni calls out, pitching his voice low and authoritative, standing slowly and keeping his rifle aimed just in case he’s called this wrong, in case the husband will attack him or try to call for help. “Move away from the body, Jackson Marcoset, now.”

The husband pushes slowly to his feet, hands up, standing in his suit pants and unbuttoned shirt. Antoni can hear his heavy breathing through the earpiece, echoed faintly even across the room into his other ear. He turns, very slowly, to look up at Antoni-

And the soft, supple black leather collar buckled tightly around his neck is suddenly visible, no longer hidden by the high neck of his shirt, the bow tie he’d been wearing when they came home. 

I was right, Antoni thinks, a lick of violent triumph running up his spine. I was right, he’s like us, I was right.

He keeps the gun trained on Jax Marcoset, anyway, walking slowly towards him down the stairs, each foot placed carefully, one by one. Neither of them speaks, although Antoni catches Jax Marcoset looking over at the body of his late wife, hands fallen limp to the side now, skirt still hiked high up on her thighs. It’s indecent, really - Antoni tells himself to pull her dress back down before he leaves.

He tries to give the bodies a little dignity - after all, every death since the first one has been strictly business and nothing more.

He left so little of Mr. Davies.

He’s tried to improve on that, ever since.

“Are you going to be a problem?” He asks, keeping his voice level, his accent smoothing off his vowels, sharpening the consonants. He reaches the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase in the entryway, rifle aimed through a large open doorway into the sitting room where the chaise was, right at center mass. “If you are a problem, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Jax Marcoset seems to struggle to speak, or operate on a delay. For a beat there is a weighty silence, and then he says, just barely audible, “I won’t… be a problem.”

Antoni can see scars that run down his stomach, like he was clawed until he bled, again and again, to make them. The collar, the way the husband isn’t looking back at his dead wife any longer, wholly focused on Antoni, shifting submissiveness trained by violence and fear immediately to the next threat, to appease, placate, and hopefully survive.

It’s all familiar, sickeningly so.

It’s the way Chris acted, when they met. Antoni’s assignment then had been to take out a household of drug runners. He’d found Chris in the alleyway bartering a place to sleep, trading his body because he had nothing else to offer them. Antoni had started firing just after hearing them agree to the trade, but only if Chris would take them all at once.

Once they were all dead, Chris - terrified and teary - had started trying to trade himself to Antoni just to keep from being slaughtered.

It’s all exactly the same, no matter the differences on the surface. 

“I cannot leave you here alive. Do you understand?” He expects fear, or begging. Some kind of plea. But all Jax Marcoset does is slowly nod, hands still held in the air, and stay right where he is. He doesn’t ask to be spared, or for one more goodbye to the dead woman six feet away. He doesn’t beg, or go to his knees, or do anything at all.

He looks exhausted, emptied of all feeling, incapable of bringing anything up but resigned certainty. “Yes, sir.”

Too far gone, maybe.

But Antoni has to try.

“You may lower your hands.”

Jax’s hands drop like weights, down to his sides, where his fingers curl into fists. Antoni knows, from his own experience, that if he were to tell Jax to show him his palms, he would be obeyed, and there would be a row of half-moon scars there.

Just like Antoni has.

He lowers the rifle, slowly, ready to aim and fire again if Jax moves, but he doesn’t. Just stares dully at Antoni, waiting for whatever happens next, utterly incapable of making a choice for himself. Antoni moves over to Savannah Marcoset’s body, pressing two fingers to where her pulse would be and finding none. Not that he expected her to survive a direct shot to the head, but you never know.

He pulls a wipe from one pocket and wipes what might have been left of his fingerprints from her neck, then turns.

Jax Marcoset hasn’t moved a single muscle except to turn his head to watch Antoni’s movements around the room. 

Antoni hums - job done, more or less, and no one needs to be the wiser that he’s left one of the targets alive - and turns to leave. He pauses, and gestures. “Come on, then,” He says, and Jax Marcoset falls in beside him, almost jerking into motion like a puppy trying to find someone new to hold his leash.

The night is dark and silent except for the crunching of Antoni’s shoes on gravel, and even that is barely a whisper of sound. Moonlight glints off the platinum wedding ring Jax Marcoset wears, off the matching lip ring and ear piercings. It briefly illuminates the buckle of the collar at the back of his neck, his eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of him, never looking up. 

Antoni’s car is hidden, of course, and it takes them some time to walk there in silence. He keeps expecting Jax to ask a question, or cry, or do anything. But all Jax does is remain perfectly quiet, pliant, and empty.

He slips off his shirt willingly enough when they reach the car, lips thinned a little, and looks maybe mildly, just barely, surprised when Antoni hands him his spare shirt to put on instead. Their hands brush and Antoni feels the telltale roughness and scarring he expected.

Through it all, his intuition whispers, he’s like Chris, and he needs help.

Once they’re in the car, driving down a small two-lane highway, cutting through the late-night darkness, Antoni says quietly, “You are coming home with me. I cannot have you questioned, or have you speak to police. You will stay with me for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jax mumbles, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. He hasn’t tried to remove his collar or his ring, and Antoni knows how hard taking off your collar the first time can be for someone like them, and he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he offers, “Would you like to choose a station on the radio?”

There’s a long silence, Antoni aware he is being studied, Jax Marcoset watching him with utmost care, deciding what he will do or say. What he wants, Antoni thinks. Appease, placate, survive. It’s all the same, in the end. Even though he noticed Jax has no barcode when he changed shirts. If Jax is a pet, he isn’t a legal one and likely never was.

Jax slowly moves his hand, hesitating before he touches the dial as though he thinks his fingers will be slapped away. He changes the station, scanning until he reaches 90.1 FM.

Classical music drifts from the speakers, and Jax pulls his hand back quickly, folding them back in his lap, and closes his eyes. 

“Will you miss her?” Antoni asks.

“Yes, sir.” His voice is barely audible, underscored and nearly overwhelmed by the sound of a single violin.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 5

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischievous Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

Previous     Masterlist          Next

Cleaning the pond with Jin isn’t exactly what you’d call easy or fun, but it’s good, honest work. You wade through the edges of the pond collecting trash, sleeves pushed up on your arms, shoes perched precariously to try and avoid actually stepping in the murky water. You make a mental note to see if there’s anywhere to buy a pair of rubber boots better suited for this kind of job, but for now, you’ll just do your best. You’re helping him pull the weeds trying to claim the underbelly of the bridge, scrubbing at the moss growing there, and even cutting back some of the willow tree’s long tresses with a pair of unwieldy hedge trimmers. 

Once your arms start to ache, and you’ve begun to get tired, you suggest stopping for the moment and he agrees readily. A sunny patch of warm grass to the side of the bridge is where you end up taking your rest, sitting comfortably beside each other to survey the work you’ve done so far. It’s looking better—one day and two people haven’t returned the pond to its former glory just yet, but it’s starting to make a difference. As the sunlight heats your skin, the breeze cool while it caresses the water from your sleeves, you’re struck once again by the peace that seems to steep into the very breath of this town. The trees rock gently, murmuring hushed stories into the green-scented breeze, the light and shadows underneath their leaves chasing each other across the grass and glinting off the water. Altogether not an unpleasant way to spend your afternoon. 

Jin’s company has been pleasurable the entire time as well—you don’t even realize how much of yourself you’ve been talking about until you have to take a break for something to eat and with your mouth full of sandwich, it’s suddenly quiet. 

“Sorry I’ve been talking so much about myself,” you add, swallowing and throwing him a sheepish look. His grin only grows wider.

“Trust me, I’ve enjoyed hearing you talk as much as you seemed to enjoy sharing,” he returns. The sun ahead, hot with the passing of the hours, cradles his hair in a soft halo and lends a gleam to his eyes. As he sits there, bathing in it, even covered in moss stains and dirty water from the ankles down, dark water staining the edges of his rolled sleeves, he looks like a painting. Delicate brush strokes shaping the curve of his face, the slant of his eyes, the petal-softness of his lips. So much in this town is beautiful beyond comprehension, and if anyone was living proof of that fact, it was Jin. He’d give even the possibly-magic swan a run for his money. 

“While we’re taking a break…” you say suddenly, remembering the rabbit with a start. “Jin, would you mind looking at something for me?”

“Certainly.”

You fish out your phone, wiping one hand absentmindedly on your pants, flicking with your thumb through to your photos. Your other hand holds the rest of your sandwich aloft, pausing in your consumption in favor of concentrating. 

“Okay, so, I...I’ve been running into some of your local wildlife. And I’ve had a couple people tell me that they’re these spirits, right?”

“Keprys,” he puts in, clarifying. 

“Yeah, that’s them. Um...I was just wondering...you’ve lived here a while, you said?”

He watches your eyes, blinking once, waiting patiently for your point. “Yes, I have.”

“Would you recognize one? If you saw it?”

“Yes.”

You nod once and reach out to hold the photo of the rabbit towards him, scrutinizing his face anxiously for any sign that he’ll make fun of you for believing in children’s stories.

“Okay, so what about this one?”

Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy. Or at least, he won’t be mean about it. Surely, he can’t throw you out of his company over something as silly as local folklore. Not when you’ve just spent an entire afternoon helping him clean his pond. But instead, he immediately bursts into bright, sparkling laughter. 

“That’s Jungkook.” he says. “I’m surprised you managed to catch a photograph of him. He’s very quick on his feet and incredibly shy.” He takes your phone from you gingerly, inspecting the picture with a cautious touch. Instead of pinching or tapping the screen, he only tilts it side to side in his hand as if to appraise it better from different angles. You wonder if he sees the legs, but if he does, he makes no mention of it. You decide you won’t bring it up.

“Jungkook.” you repeat. “Is he...I mean, is he one of them?”

Jin’s smile reappears, and he cocks his head. “Is Jungkook a kepry, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.” He cranes to offer your phone back, pressing it in your palm with a touch that you swear lingers for a half second longer than necessary before it retracts. “Jungkook is a kepry.”

“The librarian said that keprys would be attracted to this totem I got for helping another one,” you add, hesitant. “And I feel like he—Jungkook?—I feel like he’s been following me ever since. It’s kind of like—” Jin’s head whips around in shock, eyes wide. 

“Librarian?” He echoes, cutting you off. “You saw Namjoon?” 

Your nose scrunches with curiosity. “Is that his name? Purple haired guy? Likes to be really vague? Hangs out in the ivy-covered library?”

“That’s him. That’s Namjoon.” Something curls in Jin’s eyes, furrows his brows momentarily. His voice goes soft, and he shifts, plucking at his trouser leg with an absent air. “How...How is he?”

You stare at him, intrigued by the change in atmosphere. “He’s...fine, I guess?”

“I don’t see much of him. That’s all.” He explains hurriedly, though you can tell he’s sitting on legitimate concern, biting back more questions. 

You can understand that. Working too hard, not getting out enough with your friends. That used to be you, before coming here. You can’t imagine being cooped up all the time in a place like this. Your smile is wry, but comforting, you hope. “He doesn’t get out much, huh?”

“No. He doesn’t.”

You pause. “What about that festival that’s coming up?”

“Spirit Lights?” he seems taken faintly aback. “What about it?”

“Can’t you see him then? The lady at the convenience store made it sound like a holiday. Doesn’t he get the day off or something?”

“Or something.” Jin snorts, staring at some indeterminate space near the pond. He blinks, hard. “We always see each other during Spirit Lights. It’s just...It only comes every so often. You know? I worry.”

“I get that.” 

“What else...did Namjoon say to you?” 

“There’s a book about keprys that apparently could be really useful for dealing with them, but he won’t give it to me.”

“It can be a very dangerous book.” His tone has become serious, and his gaze into space hardens, dark brows creasing. “He wouldn’t lend it to just anyone.”

“He said I need something of value for it. He wouldn’t take my money.”

“Very few people in this town barter for money.”

“What would you give him?” 

Jin turns to look at you again, a sideways grin on his lips, his eyes curving with amusement. “Me?”

“Yeah, what would you barter for a ‘very dangerous book’?”

He sits there for a moment, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and humor, before it breaks with a bark of a laugh, his head dropping. 

“‘Something of value’,” he repeats. “Well, it would have to be something close to my heart. Something of my past, maybe. A fragment of who I am, who I was, who I could have been.” 

“That’s really specific.”

“I’ve been here a while. I know a lot about how these deals work. It would have to be the one thing I have that means that much to me.” 

You muse over his words, finishing your sandwich thoughtfully. Suddenly, an idea occurs to you with a flash of inspiration. “Maybe there’s some old keepsake at the house that fits that description? In the shed, maybe?”

He shrugs, pouting, but his eyes glint. “It’s worth a look.”

You stretch your legs out with a luxurious, assenting sigh, eyeing the fluffy clouds drifting ahead. You balk when you realize that the sky is already threatening to cool, the sun beginning to hide her face in the treetops. 

“Oh, man, it’s later than I thought it was. I should really be getting home.”

“Should you?...” Jin echoes. You can feel the hesitance in his frown, though he smothers it quickly and stands up gracefully, offering you a hand. When you take it, you feel a thrill race through your skin, dancing up your spine, setting your body aglow as it travels. This time, he definitely lingers, long fingers curled around your palm.

“Thank you.” He says after a beat. “For your help. I’ll be over tomorrow to help with your...shed, was it?”

“It was.” You reply. “I’m at the house on the hill. The one in front of the forest, with the iron fence.”

His face lights up in recognition, his eyes suddenly searching yours with something like shock. “The house on the hill.” 

“...yes?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” He hesitates. “I...I knew of your grandmother. We only met once, but I heard about her from the others. I didn’t realize it was...it was her who...that you lost. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” you reassure him with a soft smile. He lets go of your hand and you fight against the vague disappointment taking place of his warmth. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Jin watches you peculiarly. “...you’re taking care of Taehyung, then?” he adds after an awkward beat. 

“The dog?” you blink, surprised. “Yeah. I mean, sometimes. I don’t know, he just started following me around. He really, really didn’t like the swan we saw up here this morning, and he almost ate the gardener.”

He nods. “He...sometimes gets frustrated. But if he’s protecting you, then it makes sense.”

You laugh at that. “Protecting me. Yeah, from swans and gardeners. And rabbits. Jungkook.”

“He really does have your best interest in mind. Please don’t be too hard on him.”

The breeze kicks up just then, sending his hair waving gently across his face, bent in a serious frown. You stand transfixed, utterly bewitched, by his eyes. The bright sunlight glances off the brown depths, lit like lanterns against a mild summer’s night. Weariness lives there. An old soul, tired and heavy, but sincere. Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to nod, feeling quite suddenly as though you’ve been entrusted some kind of weighty responsibility. He smiles, and again your heart twists in your throat, just as when you met. 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow? Right?” 

“Right.” 

Like one wandering inside of a dream, you make your way down the path towards home, mind swimming against the pull of a tide that seems to lead back to the pond, back to Jin. Please don’t be too hard on him. What a weird thing to say about a dog. But it’s not like you’re gonna leave him alone to go wild and bite everything you come across. He’s not even really your dog! Everyone you’ve met seems to have decided that he’s your problem now. Even you are having a hard time keeping the inherent strangeness of his affection in mind.

You just hope Jungkook is okay...you aren’t convinced that he means you any harm. Despite what the librarian—Namjoon, apparently—seems to think about keprys, you can’t imagine such a sweet bunny machinating anything beyond harmless. He probably just wanted to see the cat’s totem up close or something.

You reach the mouth of the walkway, just by the sign, and pull up short when you realize there’s a young man perched atop the sign, sitting comfortably, a mischievous if shy grin pulling at his plush lips as he watches you emerge from the trees. 

“Hi,” you greet, taken by vague surprise to see him but remembering your manners in the nick of time. 

He shifts, tugging absently at the fluffy blue jacket hood he has pulled over his pink hair, his grin growing wider, pushing his eyes into crescents. 

“Hi,” he echoes, the end of his voice pitching almost into a giggle. “Hanging out with Jin?”

Your first knee-jerk reaction is to be distrustful of him, to hear a stranger so immediately know your business, but after a moment of bristling it occurs to you that everyone in this small town has to know each other. He must be a local, then, familiar with Jin. You relax into something more congenial. “Yeah. I’m helping him with the pond. Cleaning it and stuff.”

He hums in mild understanding, nodding, casting his glance to the side. His leg bounces atop the sign a couple times. Though his face is sweet, his voice high, and the pastels of his outfit speak to an almost childlike gentleness, there’s a sharp gleam in his eyes when he looks back to you, smirking.

“Not getting lost in the woods?” he says, playful. 

“Lost? Well...maybe once.” you admit with a small laugh. “But it’s alright. I got out in the end.”

“All by yourself?” His face freezes, smile fading slightly at the corners. He searches your eyes as he stares.  

“No, I , uh…” you chuckle, awkward. “I followed this cute little bird out. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear that’s what happened.”

His friendly manner returns in full force before you even realize it was dissipating, his grin turning radiant, clutching adorably at the sides of his hood with a saccharine giggle. He’s blushing, his cheeks pushed up and together by his small hands. 

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” he replies in a reassuring tone through chuckles. 

“No?”

He shakes his head, sending bubblegum-colored strands dancing with the movement. 

“I guess there’s a lot of odd stuff that happens in this town.” 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

You hum in agreement and crane around him, peering at the road, and seeing no cars, you decide to throw him a passing wave and friendly smile. “Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you…?” 

“Nice to see you again,” he interrupts cheerfully. “Ah, you probably should be getting home before dark. Wouldn’t want the spirits to get you.” 

You think of Jungkook and snort as you turn, beginning to cross the street. “Thanks, but I think I’m alright.” 

“And be careful around Jin.” 

His tone has dropped. You swivel on your heel when you reach the other side of the road, throwing him a peculiar look. His smile hasn’t disappeared completely, instead quarantined to the edges of his lips, turning wry. It’s almost calculating, the way he watches you.

“...Why?...”

His eyes widen innocently, brows lifting into his hair. “You can’t just bargain with everyone you meet. It’s dangerous. Who knows what you’ll agree to?”

A scoff leaves your mouth, and you shake your head, turning away to hide the flash of indignation that courses through you for a half-second. You’re sure he’s only trying to be helpful, but it’s really none of his business. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He laughs again. The sound is like a brook in summer—light, bubbly.  “Don’t misunderstand; you’re already in debt. I just don’t want him to get in the way.”

You look to him in confusion and disbelief, but are met with only an old sign and an empty crossroads. Swiftly, you spin, casting your scrutinizing gaze about the trees, the road, but there’s no evidence that the soft-looking man ever even existed. 

Talking to yourself? You don’t think you could have imagined up an entire person like that. No, he must have just taken that split second and run away. What a weirdo. Never mind the animals, it’s the locals that sometimes behave the most oddly. Must be something in the water. If you stay here long enough, are you going to start disappearing when people turn their backs? 

Why not, you think to yourself. If only to get your own back a little, maybe.

By the time you start climbing the hill to the house, it’s just beginning to really settle into evening, the air cooling and the sun casting warm rays everywhere, sharpened to individual shards of light through the trees. You can see the house, the iron gate, the beginnings of the garden within, and a small shape, pacing frantically up and down by the gate. Taehyung notices you long before his form registers properly in your mind, and before you can even really react, he’s torn down the stone-marked path towards you, small legs flying out under him in his haste to reach you, gravity threatening to pull him head over heels. He’s yapping as he barrels over, skidding from the sheer force of his sprint, his sweet voice pulled taut into what you can only describe as breathless worry and desperation. You murmur soothingly, rolling your eyes as you stoop to pet him, but he’s jittery on his tiny paws, incapable of sitting still, whining and huffing, hoarse as he blinks up at you and attempts to press as much of himself against you as physically possible. 

“Now, really,” you chastise under your breath, shifting the bags on your shoulder to bend closer, trying to thread your fingers through his soft fur in a reassuring kind of way. “Now, honestly. Taehyung. You don’t get to act like this when you’re the one who left me, remember?” 

He makes an impossibly distraught noise, turning balefully into a long howl, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound. He sounds like his heart is breaking, throwing his head back and crying of all the injustice in the world. To hear him, you’d think he was dying.

“Okay, pup, okay,” you interrupt his lament, stroking his face, around his ears. “I hear you. It’s alright. I’m okay, I promise.” 

You straighten, walking towards the gate, and he immediately makes a beeline for your ankles, keeping in pace with your strides as though leaving your side would physically wound him. When you reach for the iron, he starts making this huffing, sobbing noise that even as ridiculous as it is, tugs at your heartstrings. You hesitate, curling your palm around the gate. He was here this morning. You doubt he went anywhere last night. Besides, you let the cat stay the night—where would be the fairness in disallowing your new companion, especially when he seems so incredibly upset at the thought of leaving you behind again?  

You think again of Jin’s words. 

A small dog so famous that everyone who meets you immediately knows his name has to be an upstanding member of the community, you continue to reason with yourself. He’s well-groomed, shiny-eyed, and obviously clean. If his owners don’t mind him wandering the town all the time, then surely they won’t miss him one night?

You interrupt his pitiful snuffling in a quiet tone. “What do you think, Taehyung? Just one night?”

He immediately goes silent. When you look to him, his ears have perked up, head cocking to the side. As you watch, his ears flick, back, then front again. A shuddering sigh escapes his small snout as he bores holes in your eyes with his round, slightly-crossed ones. 

“Just the one.” you reiterate. “As a thank you. For trying to protect me.”

His fluffy tail wags, once. Twice. Hesitant, he leans back on his haunches to place a delicate paw just below your knee. His tail starts up again, beginning in earnest now. 

“You wanna spend the night with me? Hmm?” 

His ears go flat and he whines, low. 

“Alright. Come on.” You unlatch the gate, pushing it open and stepping inside. When you turn to glance at Taehyung, he hasn’t moved, stock-still where you left his side. You blink at him, curious. “You can come in,” you say, and he immediately skips over to you, tail breaking the sound barrier with how it furiously wags, a bounce in his step, but such deep, quiet adoration in his eyes, you wonder again why this dog is following you around so much. You close the gate between the both of you, leading Taehyung into the house. 

He is adamant on staying by you, though occasionally he sniffs at the air, the floor, snuffling like he’s hunting some scent. At one point, he noses violently at the radiator where the cat had slept, tail pausing in its waving as his mind diverts all energy to thinking. 

“Was there a kitty cat there, Taehyung?” you ask him in a high pitch as you set the bags on the kitchen table, craning to peer at him from beyond the door frame. He sneezes, huffing a small, unimpressed bark at the radiator, before looking back up at you. 

When you take a shower, he lays patiently in front of the bathroom door. You almost knock him over with it when you step out with a towel wrapped about your body, but he’s just as happy to see you as ever, casting a glance up at you and wagging his tail. You hesitate, peering back at him. Do you change with him in the room?...Your lips quirk. 

Finally, you decide to leave him outside the bedroom door while you put your pajamas on. It’s just too weird. He isn’t really your dog, and besides, with all this talk about keprys and spirits...best not to take any chances anyways. When you open the door, he’s sitting patiently in the hall, tail thumping against the floor to greet you again as if for the first time. While you mill about the kitchen, putting together a quick evening meal, he follows you, though he’s so much more relaxed inside the house and so much quieter. 

You slip him a dog treat from your bag as an afterthought. He sniffs at it, but doesn’t eat it, electing instead to prop himself against your chair when you sit down with a leftover sandwich from the store. Jin’s sandwich. You realize with a bit of shock that he never ate it, or did you even offer? Embarrassment flushes your face, but if he’d been hungry he could have just as easily said so. You’ll be sure to be a better host tomorrow, while he helps you with the shed. 

“Are you gonna bite Jin when he comes over tomorrow?” You ask Taehyung absentmindedly, throwing him a glance underneath the table. He sniffs in reply. “You can’t. You have to leave him alone. He’s a nice guy.” 

He doesn’t seem too convinced, but lays his head on his paws with a quiet snuffle. He perks up when you get up to wash the dishes, moving to sit by you on the placemat. It’s dark now, the yellowed lights in the house lending an almost dreamlike quality to the spaces, chasing the shadows into the corners of the room, and when you crane your head out the window, you can see the twinkling of so many stars in the velvety sky. You briefly consider spending some time stargazing, but eventually decide against it. You need to be up nice and early again, if only to make sure you don’t make Jin wait. How embarrassing would that be? 

Taehyung trails you silently to the bedroom, and for a half second you consider turning him out, making him sleep by the radiator, but there’s something so familiar, so comforting, to watch him standing by the bed expectantly, waving his tail when you look down at him. 

“Come on, up you go,” you say, and before you’ve even finished speaking, he’s hopped upwards, alighting on the covers with a grace you didn’t expect. He waits as you turn the light off and sink into the bed yourself before he begins tapping cautiously over in your direction. You can feel the change in pressure on the sheets as he walks, feeling for the bed underneath like he’s actively avoiding stepping on you. For a moment, you’re afraid he might start licking your face once he gets close, but he only bumps against your nose with his small snout, before turning and situating himself at your chest, snuggling into you. He’s so hot against you, so soft and warm, you can’t help but curve one hand into his fur, cuddling up with him as he sighs, bone-deep. The gentle smell of honey and warm sunshine emanates from him, light and sweet.  For a second, you’re afraid you might not get to sleep—when was the last time you slept with a stranger’s dog in your bed, after all?—but he immediately slacks into deep, contented breaths and the sensation is so calming you’re drifting before you can even worry too much about it. Again, the spark of familiarity occurs to you and you curl closer to him, stroking at his fur lazily. 

“Night, Taetae,” you hum, unaware that you’re even saying it until it’s left your lips as a mumble. Just before you fall into the void of sleep, you imagine he whines quietly in the dark.

Previous    Masterlist          Next

[i-jus-wanna-writehappy]

11 Times Poe Dameron Embarrasses Himself and the 1 Time He Doesn’t

Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: cursing

Author’s Note: I started writing this and I found myself thinking of Oscar;s role in Life Itself as much as in the Star Wars movies, so if you’ve seen it, there will be some similarities.

Tags: @thotyana-in-this-hoe @neeadinghugs 

Masterlist

*     *     *     *

You’re tempted to stop running as the stitch in your side is joined by a rumble in your stomach, but Poe is still chattering away as he runs beside you, so you take a deep breath and pretend you feel just fine. It goes well for a while, you and Poe have run a few more blocks and nearly run into three different strollers when your stomach growls loud enough for him to hear. “You wanna call it early for lunch?” Poe laughs, jogging in place as he glances at his watch. His green shirt is soaked through with sweat and you’re sure you don’t look any more comfortable. “If we stop now, I’ll get our lunch and drinks?” You barter with him so it doesn’t seem like you’ll be the only one gaining anything from stopping.

Poe finally stops running in place and tosses an arm over your shoulders, “Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me?” He smirks over at you as he leads you to Vincenzo’s because it’s where you always go for lunch. “Poe, please,” You start, ducking out from under his arm, “I’m hot as hell, I wouldn’t have to get you drunk to have my way with you.” Laughing, Poe steps into the street to let a toddler and his leash and his mother barrel between the two of you, “What can I say, I’m only a man.” Poe quips, joining you on the sidewalk again for the journey.

*

“Oh, yeah, some of us are going out tonight.” You remember, interrupting Poe’s outlandish story and taking way too quick a drink of your mimosa. Instead of saying anything in response, Poe levels his eyes and holds you in place with a five second gaze before standing and pulling the umbrella out of your table. “Poe, Poe, I don’t think those are meant to be removed from the tables.” You laugh, watching him struggle with the large umbrella. Scoffing, Poe stands on his chair and continues to pull the umbrella from the hole in the table, knocking over the pitcher of water on the table beside you and bonking himself on the forehead before pulling the umbrella out all the way and walking it to rest on the wall of the restaurant.

Two tables of people have left - unable to stay frustrated with Poe once he tossed them a dashing smile and an apology, but unwilling to have any more fumbling result in any more drinks getting knocked onto them or their food - and Poe is panting when he sits back down, “You’re lucky I practically own this place, or we’d be kicked out, now what exactly are you doing?” Once again, Poe doesn’t answer right away, instead, watching you with narrowed eyes for a moment, “Sorry, I had to let the sun shine on your face, I had to really be able to look at your face so that I could make sure you weren’t feeding me bullshit.”

You can’t help the laugh that forces its way out of your mouth in a snort, “Bullshit?” Frowning dramatically and keeping his gaze completely serious, Poe nods, “Bullshit.” Standing from his seat, Poe makes his way to your side of the table and puts his face close to yours, eyes flitting between your own while also taking a quick detour to your lips. You have to lean back to take another sip from your mimosa and Poe’s lack of movement makes you want to laugh again as you think of him pulling the same kind of antics when you met your senior year of college. 

“You’re not bullshitting me. And you’re still with that asshole.” Poe deducts, making his way back to his seat and wiping his sweaty hands on his grey jogging pants, which he wears on your runs on purpose though he’ll never admit it. Rolling your eyes, you grab a bread stick from the small plate you and Poe got to share, “I’m not even gonna acknowledge the shitty comment you made about Armitage, because I will not encourage that behavior. No, Poe Dameron, you big baby, I’m not bullshitting you. So, are you gonna come out and party with us tonight? I invited our cute new server, Rey.”

Poe mimics you with a roll of his eyes and a bite of a bread stick, “I’m gonna go home, grab a beer, take my pants off, and find a way to keep my hands busy. That’ll be a party in itself, you guys are more than welcome to come to my party.” He smiles at you through a mouth of bread and any tension in the conversation is gone. “Well if those are your standards of a party Dameron, you spend every night partying.” Swallowing the bread in a lump, Poe leans forward, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he puts his glass to his mouth, “Only the days we spend together, Y/N.” The comment pushes you to down the rest of your mimosa and check your smart watch, “You’re disgusting, Poe.” You chastise him, wrinkling your nose with no animosity behind the words at all. Poe laughs and stands as you do, “Alright, well, we’ll be at the usual place downtown at ten tonight if you decide you wanna come out. I’m gonna go get dressed and come in for a quick shift so I can break the news to Rey.”

The mention of another woman upsets Poe a bit. He’s been flirting with you since your senior year of college and despite you throwing flirty comments right back, you’ve always treated his behavior like a joke, almost like it’s your form of formality. And you keep trying to set him up with women, these women who don’t look or act anything like you, and honestly, he’s beginning to think that you have no idea what his type is. Yeah, one hundred percent, he’s gotten laid since your friendship has began, but you don’t introduce him to one night stands. You introduce him to women that you want to see him with on double dates. Women you want to see him with at all, and honestly, that irritates him a bit more. Unless you dig being jealous. Are you trying to set him up so you can rush to him in a jealous rage? Shove him against a wall and shove your tongue in his mouth while having him-

“Get out of your head and come give me a hug, Poe, you weirdo.” You order, pulling him out of his thoughts. Clearing his throat, and regretting the grey sweatpants, Poe shuffles over to you, enveloping you in a tight hug. Burying your nose in his hair and smelling his coconut shampoo, you think of Poe being home alone tonight and no matter how much he jokes, you feel like he could use a friend, so you squeeze him a little tighter and pull back a little to look at him, “Hey, I love you, Bug.” Like he did earlier, Poe looks into your eyes for a minute before he leans forward, eyes fluttering closed. They close completely and he realizes that he’s been leaning for a while and opens his eyes back up.

The two of you are still in each others arms, but now it’s more like Poe is dipping you rather than hugging you. “Poe, I still have that boyfriend you mentioned earlier.” You huff, exasperated as you release yourself from Poe’s hold. Shaking his head, Poe screws his eyes closed tight, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I mean, I guess I did, but my intention wasn’t to - shit. Yeah, sorry. That was a dick move.” Opening his eyes, Poe flashes you a charming smile and lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “Can you blame a guy for trying?” You want to tell him that yes, yes you can blame a guy for trying, but looking at Poe, you fall into your same rhythm and you know that you won’t be able to stay mad at him. Especially not looking right into those deep brown eyes.

“Don’t do that again, Poe Dameron. I’m serious. People end marriages for less.” You finally say, walking around the table setting down enough money from the pocket in your leggings to cover your meal and a hefty tip from both of you. “But I’m guessing you won’t end a relationship for it.” Poe asks, his head tilted in what he probably means to be a seductive way, but all you can see are the pictures you’ve seen of him as a child in his family photos. “I know, Poe, what an awful friend I am for not falling prey to the charm you’ve been trying to perfect since college.” Poe laughs with you, wanting to keep the banter going, but you squeeze his bicep fondly - not noticing it’s thicker than usual - and start off, checking the time on your watch before jogging out of sight.

[sheepsandcattle]

Chapter 25

His fucking keys have gone missing and Curly feels like an absolute twat as he darts around the lounge in search of them - ten minutes after he set himself up to storm out of the building. Jules has probably nicked them, the fucker; stole his car again to meet with his bird who Curly’s not sure is even real.

As if he wasn’t pissed off already, and now this. Now he can’t even get into his own pissing car and drive off.

“I really don’t see the fuckin’ issue,” Jules grunts, flicking through his mail as if he gives a toss about brochures and overdue dentist appointments.

“You can’t just rent out my room when I’m not here, Julian,” he snaps. “It’s my bloody room!”

“Don’t Julian me. What’s the problem if you’re never in it? I need the cash, Curly, I—”

“I need the cash! We all fucking do!”

He digs around between the couch cushions, then lifts one to check beneath it. Curls bats Oscar off the other side of the seat, who’s been sitting silently throughout the entire duration of the argument - not to keep his nose out, but because he’s been trying for the past forty-five minutes to rewire Curly’s speaker - the one Jules’ fucking tenant broke. Yeah, tenant: the bloke who’s been paying to kip in Curly’s bed when he’s been at Jordan’s. Oscar’s hands are shaking though, barely even a day and a half into ‘sobriety’ and already showing signs of failure. The speaker’s not getting mended any time soon.

“I’ll give you a cut of the money, then,” Jules barters, opening the next envelope as his dirty boots scuff the coffee table. “Not a huge deal— oh, this is yours,” he mumbles and holds out the opened mail.

He snatches the papers from Jules, swatting him over the head with them until the man gets the memo and moves off the armchair where Curly proceeds with the search for his keys.

“Fuck the money, I want my room to myself, ta.” No keys under that cushion either and he’s becoming increasingly impatient. “You know Jules, you can be such a selfish prick sometimes.”

“Me?” He finally gets a rise out of the guy, who chucks what’s left of the pile off to one side as he straightens up. “All you fuckin’ do is take my drugs and clients and I don’t get shit for it! And now I’m making honest money and you can’t even let me have that? You’re the selfish one, Curly. Not me.”

“Funny that, because you’re charging me more for your drugs this week than you ever have. So how does that work, mate? Doesn’t sounds that honest to me.” He could make a jab about Oscar, is this close to supposing the inflammation has something to do with nearly killing off their flatmate last month, but Jules’ response beats him to the punch.

“If you weren’t off with that fucking psycho all the time, maybe we’d hang out like we used to and maybe you’d get my shit for free,” Jules argues, but he doesn’t get a response because Curly’s too busy gutting the storage unit in the corner of the room to respond. He pulls the drawer off the track to get a better look inside. Jules must be dissatisfied with this, because he adds, “how does that even work? You just woke up a fag one day? What the fuck is—”

Curly lobs the drawer at his head.

He hears Oscar go “woah, woah, woah,” but it’s Jules that he’s pointing accusingly at, who’s got a hand pressed to his temple, red in the face and fuming. He points at Curly next though, calls him a fucking idiot and tells him to sit down.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jules is paying Oscar just as much mind as Curly is: none at all.

“D’you wanna call me a fag again?” He abandons his search momentarily, in favour of pacing across the room, palms shoving Jules’ chest and having him stumble back a few steps. “‘ey?”

Jules shoves him back. Oscar says, “come on, guys. Fuck. Let’s not—”

“Fag.”

He sees red; remembers for a split second how the same word had left Jules’ mouth in that alleyway, before Curly woke up with Jordan who had blood on his shirt, on Jeff and Dean’s couch. His vision’s blurred around the edges, pulsing in time to the pressure in his fingertips as they curl around the redhead's collar, and then he’s on his back and Curly’s above him, fist drawing back from a punch he didn’t realise he’d thrown, and Oscar is pulling him back so hard that he stumbles to find his feet again.

“I put them in the fucking kitchen, Curly,” Oscar shouts as he pulls Jules up next. “Your keys. They’re under the sink.”

Oscar must know that Curls won’t go for him again; he’s got it out of his system. Jules wouldn’t bloody dare throw a punch either. They’re all just stood there, panting, like the fight had gone on for longer than it had.

“Why the fuck would you put them in there?”

“You’re high.” He’s not sure which one of them says it, but Oscar’s hand’s not on Jules anymore, but are both on Curly’s face, holding his attention until he tears himself away. He’s marching into the kitchen and they both sound the fucking same anyway.

It’s just coke. He’s off heroin – has been for as long as Oscar has. “We’ll do it together.” It was his own idea. Saturday, in Oscar’s room right before they took their last hit. This is nothing – he’s driven like this before; could do it with his eyes shut; probably has.

He finds the keys in the cupboard drawer and slams it before leaving the kitchen. Jules and Oscar are stood side-by-side, one still catching his breath and the other with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m fine.” He sniffs, chews his lip - can’t feel it. “Wind you’re fucking neck in and stay out of my room—”

“You’re aware that you’re still a junkie, right?” Oscar says. Jules has learnt his lesson now, staying quiet at his side. “Just because you’re not doing dope, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly fixed.”

He eyes his bag, dumped by the door and waiting to be swung into his passenger seat for the two nights he’s planned to spend with Jordan. He thinks about how much space is left in there and how much he needs.

“Don’t get all high and mighty because you’ve switched to painkillers, mate. You’re just as bad. You know what?” No response. “I’ve got a better idea, yeah?” He nods erratically. “I’ll stay out. You can have the shithole – tell your foreign mate he can stay. I’m going.”

“Yo, hey—” Oscar starts as Jules calls, “Curly, c’mon. I’m just worried—”

Curly grabs the bag, heads for his bedroom and slams the door behind him and neither of them follows him.

As he darts around the room, packing, Curly quickly realises that only a fraction of his belongings will fit in the bag. He rubs his face, scrunches his eyes and shuffles on his feet as he thinks.

He pulls the sheets off his bed. That'll do – if he can just wrap all of his shit—

“Curls.” He hadn’t even heard his door open – or shut, for that matter, Oscar stood with his back to it.

“Fuck off.” He can’t be arsed. Doesn’t wanna hear it – can barely hear it anyway over that pounding in his hears.

“I take a couple aspirin a day,” Oz tells him, and Curly gives up on filling his duvet with his shit, his audience making him realise just how daft of an idea it is. Oscar leans against the door stubbornly. “It’s hardly the same as the amount you’ve been snorting, you—God, can you look at me a sec?”

No, he can’t. Can barely fucking see; his vision red and black and blurred, furious. “Please, Oscar. I’m telling you.”

“You were doing well for a second – better than me. You wouldn’t be this pissed off if you thought I was wrong.”

“Don’t even—”

“Or if you were sober. You not even acting like yourse—”

Curly doesn’t know what he throws -just grabs it and chucks- until the ashtray hits the wall beside Oscar’s head; barely even breaks; chips the paint on the wall more than it does the glass. “Fucking get out!”

Oscar’s so quiet -so still- that Curly almost says he’s sorry, but then the man is opening the door again and slipping out of the room. He turns back to the job at hand, shaking as he picks out the best of everything he has -clothes, mostly; everything else at his mum’s house or in his duffel bag already- then stuffs what he can in a second bag and swings it over his shoulder. He grabs his duffel bag on his way to the door and, as he lumbers it through the living room, Jules and Oscar sit back and watch.

It’d probably be a funny sight if he hadn’t just chucked a drawer at one of them and an ashtray at the other in a semi-coked-out craze.

He tosses his key at them and slams the door behind him.

Bet they think I’m bluffing. He shakes his head at the fact as he crams everything into the boot of his car. I don’t fucking need them, you know. He doesn’t. They’ve been dragging me down this whole time. Everyone’s said it; Jeff, Dean and Jordan - even his mum said it and she only met him once in the supermarket frozen food section.

God, he doesn’t need them.

Curly’s only made it about four blocks away when he pulls over. Not to go back -absolutely fucking not- but he’s so pissed off that his hands are shaking and he’s getting one of those headaches between his eyes that usually warn him that his nose is about to bleed. That and the fact that, for a moment, he’d let himself think about what it was like back in England, illegally driving his mate’s cars on quiet nights on roads they knew would be empty. Next thing he knew, he was on the left side like he was right there in Brentwood again.

He flicks his engine off for a while and just sits.

Jordan can’t know, he’s decided. Jordan can’t know because then he’ll ask him to move in and not only will Curly have to bring his stupid bloody habits into his home, but he’ll feel daft and pathetic and like a burden when Jordan’s paying all their bills and Curly’s not even got a real job on the go. No, he’ll sort it out himself. Get some money in and get his own flat.

He’ll sort it.

Maybe Brandon will move out and live with him. Yeah, that’d be mint, actually. He—

He hasn’t heard from Brandon in ages.

Fuck it, he’ll sort it all out himself.

By the time he gets to Jordan’s, his mind is cleared up from its previous fog and his headache has eased, having narrowly escaped the nosebleed he’d been sure was coming.

“You look fucking rough, sweetheart,” Jordan observes as he grinds a fag out on the windowsill. New Order are playing from the telly, and Curly’s not sure if Jordan’s left the CD in since Curly was here last, or if he’s put the album back on just for him. The man wafts the smokey air a little before he pulls the window shut. “You on a come down or somethin’?”

Curly’s still shrugging off his jacket as he says, “or summet, yeah.” He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to how honest and aloof J can be. “Had a row with the boys,” Curly then adds, deciding the Jordan can know at least the foundations of it all. “They do my head in.”

J just hums, crossing the room now and swerving around the couch to place a hand on the back of Curly’s neck. His fingers tangle in his hair as he plants a kiss on his lips before he takes Curly’s bag from his shoulder.

“Made coffee,” he tells him as he steps away and heads for the small bedroom. The catch on the door hasn’t worked properly for as long as Curly’s been coming here so Jordan just has to nudge it with his foot to open it before he chucks the bag onto his bed, all visible from where Curls stands in the doorway.

“You know you can just leave your shit here, right,” Jordan says as he heads back towards Curly again, who’s forgotten to move away from the door thus far. “I mean, you’re here enough. I’ll clear some space for it, save you cluttering my room all the fuckin’ time.”

“No,” he’s quick to say, shaking his head. Jordan looks taken aback by his haste, so he adds, “I mean, I don’t have loads of stuff - always losing shit, so.” He shrugs. No point leaving shit here when it doesn’t have anywhere of permanence anymore. Might as well keep hold of it.

Jordan hums. “Noted.”

He’s not sure where all that anger has gone. Still in his back seat with the rest of his shit, probably. He should probably apologise. Should he? To Oscar, not Jules. The ashtray was probably a step too far, now he thinks about it. Oz has been insufferably high more times than Curly can count, and never once has he had an ashtray breeze his head.

“Listen,” J grumbles, looking sorry for himself as he crowds Curly up behind the sofa. “I really wanna get out today.” The man’s lips press just below his ear as he mumbles, “can we go to iHop?”

Curly must be going soft because he feels so warm; loves that no one else sees Jordan like this. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly feeling all overwhelmed, but he is, as he takes Jordan’s wrists and mauls the blond’s arms to wind around his own shoulders before he presses his face to his neck.

“Sounds good,” he says against him with a small nod. “Can you drive?”

“Sure. You alright?”

He just hums in reply. He doesn’t want to say that, despite getting here in one piece, he’s got a feeling it’ll only take all of thirty seconds of him behind the wheel for Jordan to realise he’s in no state to drive. Instead, he just mumbles, “head’s banging.”

“We don’t have to—”

“No, I could murder a milkshake.”

He calls Oscar on the way to say sorry, but he doesn’t answer.

[vagrantblvrd]

@rogueghost​ Tumblr’s still acting weird for me so I had to do the old DIY reply to your ask, but here you go. :D?

Oh, friend! There’s so much lore to Destiny that I haven’t kept up with myself because ~lazy. The AUs I’ve written are a mishmash of Destiny universe and ~artistic liberties on my part, so yeah.

(There’s an amazing video here about the lore thus far that I hope to watch One Day? But, again, lazy and lack of time to sit down to properly absorb it.)

Quick background on the games/Ghosts for those who don’t play the game/want to see me ramble on about A Thing:

The game tells us is the Traveler (giant white space orb/messiah/McGuffin showed up in our solar system which resulted in what’s called the Golden Age where human technology advanced like whoa. (But surprise, surprise, the Traveler was being pursued by an enemy referred to as the Darkness and things got messy for humanity, something that happened to several races that happened to run into the Traveler before us.)

There was an extinction level event several centuries before the events of the Destiny games called The Collapse when the Darkness caught up to it. The Traveler “died”, creating the Ghosts as it did to seek out Guardians...who tend to be dead at the time (they get better) who then join the ranks of the Guardians (who for the most part) fight to save humanity/the universe and/or engage in shenanigans such as flinging themselves off the Tower for funsies and the whatnot. (Guardians have no common sense, btw. Also, lunatics.)

BUT.

Back to your amazing prompt???

It would be this entire Thing on its own because I want to set it before the games back in the days before there was a Vanguard, which from what I gather from the lore I have read was not unlike ye olden medieval days/wild west with sci-fi twist, because yes. (Also, it was referred to as the Dark Ages, so yeah.)

Geoff and Jack are among the first Lightbearers that are referred to as Risen in various bits of game lore, right? Before the Iron Lords and the whole “Guardian” business with the Vanguard and the Tower and all that good stuff.

Back in the days where there were some like them who abused their powers over those who weren’t like them. Grabbing land and wealth for themselves and gaining followers through fear and the whatnot?

They spend a long, long time trying to figure out what the hell is going on because no memories of their past lives and this hellish world they’ve been brought back to with Fallen and God knows what else wandering the lands.

Just these little glowing balls of Light and sass nagging them about finding shelter and armor and weapons,  getting them into hiding when Fallen patrols or other bandits go past.

Abilities before there were proper classes and sub-classes and all that.

Geoff and Jack both lean more towards the floofy jumps and glides of Warlocks. (not that they know what a Warlock even is at that point, of course.)

Jack’s abilities and whatnot lean more towards a support role, but he’s not defenseless, oh no. He learns to use his Light as a weapon and that goes for Geoff too.

They carry guns and knives and in a pinch whatever is at hand.

Run into each other in a little settlement somewhere and at first it’s this Thing where they’re keeping their Ghosts out of sight – Warlords and so on who flaunt their little Ghost friends and the way people have learned to react to them. (And also? Just smart not to go about advertising the fact you’re harder to kill than most, that if they don’t know you have a Ghost you won’t stay down once someone tries to put you in the ground.)

There’s an attack, Fallen or human bandits or some Warlord’s goon squad trying to terrorize the settlement into rolling over for them. Pay a tax or whatever they’d call it back then to “protect” them from the roving bands of Fallen and other enemies.

Can’t do much without giving themselves away – and why would they? They don’t owe these people anything, and that old woman scooping her wares off the ground where her booth’s been knocked down tried to shortchange Geoff less than an hour ago.

The asshole with the weapons parts Jack needed is – okay, he’s kind of dead now, but he lied to Jack’s face about not having them in stock. Said he’d have to ask around, and wouldn’t you know it that would cost more. (Jack can see the parts he was after spilling from a box hidden at the back of the guy’s booth and into the grass, blood all over them and what a mess.)

Still.

Jack quietly takes the parts he needs and leaves the money he would have paid fairly for them and a little more with the boy crouched beside the booth. (His mother’s a settlement over, said she’d be a bit before joining his father with the parts she was bartering for there.)

Sighs as he looks down the road the goons left on and starts after them. Geoff’s munching on an apple he got of a nearby tree and watches him go, all thoughtful about it because there are people mourning here and they don’t owe them a damn thing, and what does that idiot think he’s going to do about it?

So of course he follows, just to see.

The end up killing everyone at the Warlord’s little castle, wherever he’s holed up because none of them will listen to reason and the man’s a blowhard. Full of himself because he’s clearly been chosen for a reason, and what else could it be than to rule over the weaker, lesser people in this section of the world?

And Geoff, God, Geoff.

Died several times getting to this asshole, right? Snipers and assholes with knives and other melee weapons and he was in dire need up upgrading his armor before he waded into this fight, but he’s got his trusty Ghost buddy and this stubbornness that just won’t quit. Smiles because this pathetic weasel playing king and is just like, “Oh, buddy, have I got news for you.” and behind him Jack pops his super, Radiance lighting up the Warlord’s pitiful little throne room.

Geoff lets that sink in for a moment before he fricking nova bombs the Warlord in the face.

It kind of hurts a little, when they see the asshole’s Ghost hiding in a corner of the room waiting for the right moment to resurrect the bastard, because their own Ghosts and the bonds they’ve built with them, you know?

But the little Ghost floats out to the center of the room, looks down at the body of its chosen and sighs because it knew a long time ago it chose poorly. (Maybe the Warlord could have done great things with this second chance, but he chose to do terrible things instead.)

They could kill the Ghost, make sure the Warlord didn’t come back, but -

There’s no point to it now. The Ghost is surprised at their decision, maybe disappointed. (Easier for things to end and not have to consider everything that went wrong because of its choice of course. Having to go on however long with that hanging over it? Nothing like mercy, is it?)

So.

They leave the Ghost behind, and all the dead in the halls and rooms where they fell. Find the path that leads away from the settlement and that small little Warlord and keep walking. (Swear they see a light in the woods along the castle grounds following them for a distance, but they leave it be and eventually it vanishes, wandering as aimlessly as them.)

And then!

They kind of fall in together after that, aren't really friends but there aren’t that many directions to go in, you know? And sometimes the Fallen patrols and whatnot are tricky for one Risen to deal with alone and it’s just.

Convenient.

They’re not bad guys, really, certainly no villains, but wouldn’t you know it? There are a lot of people out there who claim they are?

All these warlords with their bounties and other thieves and grifters with grudges to bear against them. Settlements who aren’t sure what to make of them and are wary of strangers because it pays to be paranoid.

And sometimes they kind of do bad things, pilfer some goods off a settlement where the leader’s an asshole and it’s doing well enough for they won’t miss just a little and so on and so forth. (Ignore the fact they maybe stop ‘round a poorer settlement or homestead kind of place to barter their stolen goods for a place with a roof over their heads for the night and so on. Because unimportant and definitely not a Good Deed or anything.)

Eventually they happen on this little asshole of a Hunter, a kid, really. (Well, no. Just. Young.)

Skittish, almost, the way he acts around them and after they win his trust by sheer dint of doing nothing he joins them beside the campfire they’ve set up.

Well, not nothing. Just. Something?

They set up camp in a clearing of the forest they’ve found themselves in this time. Tired after crossing a snowy mountain rage and it’s warm enough where they are they won’t freeze to death at night. (Once was enough, thanks.)

Hunt and fish and forage for food and leave the Hunter they spot lurking about alone when they realize he’s no threat to them.

Eventually Gavin gets curious enough, or maybe something else because he comes to their campfire with tidbits of food of his own. Treats and delicacies he’s made himself or bought or traded for somewhere else to supplement whatever Geoff and Jack caught/foraged for themselves.

They share stories, mostly Geoff and Jack about their adventures up to then. Little ones, because they’d hate to spook Gavin, scare him back into the forest and probably gone off somewhere they don’t stand a chance of finding him again.

After a while Gavin offers up some of his? Mostly advice for the area around them, dangers to look out for like Fallen patrols and the like.

Geoff asks after this human bandit encampment he heard about from a settlement nearby and Gavin goes quiet. Shifts uncomfortably before he tells them it won’t be a problem anymore and leaves it at that.

They don’t ask because they have stories of their own that end like that and it would just be rude after the goodies Gavin shared with them, so they don’t press.

The three of them wander around the forest for a few days, a week. Headed the same direction to another settlement nearby and it’s pretty nice having someone else around for a change, you know?

But once they reach the settlement Gavin vanishes on them and knowing how skittish he is, they don’t go looking for him.

A few years – twenty, thirty, maybe more – go by before they run into Gavin again.

They’ve left Earth a few times since then, gone wandering in these Jumpships that fell apart on them before too long and they ended back up on Earth.

By that time there’s a new group of Risen calling themselves the Iron something or others, and they’re out there giving the Warlords a time of it to hear the stories.

(A few from this shady guy who owns a bar in this little settlement that grew up to be a tiny town. Tells them about this lady named Efrideet responsible for the hole in the ceiling of his fine establishment, but he doesn’t seem too annoyed about it, so it’s probably fine.)

Run across this kid in a town somewhere, angry as hell and taking on some Warlord’s stooges with just his fists. Seems weapons would just slow him down because he’s doing just fine resolving whatever argument or debate he’s engaged in by punching the shit out of his opponents.

When it’s over they buy him a drink because it saves them the trouble of handling things themselves – picked up a bounty not too far away the kid took care of for them – and they offer to split the reward money since he did all the work.

And Michael, okay.

Squints at them because he sure as hell doesn’t know them, but who is he to turn down a free drink?

He agrees to taking a quarter of the reward because it seems they won’t accept anything less, but whatever. He would have have kicked the shit out of those assholes anyway for trying to bully the people here and this way he’ll have a little extra money in his pockets. (Whatevers.)

They part ways there, but he tells them if they need a hand they’re welcome to in touch with them.

Geoff and Jack wander a little more. Hear about these Iron Lords or whatever they’re calling themselves these days and are understandably concerned because the warlords business and who says these idiots are going to be any better?

(Say they’re out to protect people and all that, but entire settlements, towns, have gotten caught in the crossfire between them and the warlords and the only ones to walk out of it are these Iron Lords. So. Yeah. They’ve got some trouble thinking anyone’s a good guy in that scenario.)

More time goes by and they’re at some little outpost somewhere when Gavin pops up out of nowhere.

Strained look on his face and eyeing Michael who’s with them warily.

Says, “I could use your help,” which is a first because whenever they run into him he’s the one helping them out.

Hell of a sniper and no one better they’ve met when stealth is needed and anyway, anyway, they say yes because of course they do.

Like this little idiot who creeps around the wilds like it’s second nature, goes delving into Darkness Zones looking for God knows what. All kinds of trouble he gets up to and no one watching his back and just.

They worry, okay? They do.

More so with the way he’s all wound up about something. Won’t even tell them what it is until they’re out of the outpost and miles into the woods. Ghosts telling them no one’s around to listen in and even then he’s nervous.

Michael, who’s been quiet through all this loses his temper, snaps at Gavin to get on with with it already, fuck’s sake.

Jack goes to rein him in because Gavin and skittish and just, not what they need right now?

Only as it turns out, it kind of is because Gavin just.

Spills this story about coming across a crashed Fallen ketch in the mountains nearby. Too deep into Fallen territory – and treacherous terrain besides – for anyone to have reason to go up there.

But because Gavin’s an idiot and his Ghost is just as much of one, they went up there anyway.

Snuck past Fallen patrols and the whatnot to get into the ketch and found a Ghost in an odd little device that kept it from transmatting somewhere safe. Little thing begging them to find its chosen because the Fallen had caught them by surprise.

Overwhelmed them in an ambush and caught the Ghost in the cage it’s stuck in, kept its chosen because they thought he had answers they wanted.

Gavin glosses over the interrogations the Ghost told them about, how they’d torture its chosen to the point of death and have it resurrect him to do it all over again and the worst part is its chosen honestly didn’t have the answers to the questions they kept asking him? Resurrected a year ago a most when they were captured and wandering through the area by chance and just bad luck all around.

Anyway, anyway, he knows they don’t know this poor bastard, but Gavin can’t just leave him there, okay? He can’t get the guy out himself, but if they don’t want to help that’s fine, he understands, he’ll find a way -

Geoff and Jack are just like, no, you little idiot no, we’ll help. Just. Don’t do anything stupid okay?

Gavin is like “...okay?” because he didn’t know if they’d say yes – none of their business and sure, they’ve been pretty vocal about not getting involved things that don’t involve them, but that’s all just talk.

(They’ve been getting into trouble that didn’t concern them for a long damn time before now, and hey, Gavin’s kind of their business because they like him okay?)

Michael doesn’t know what Gavin’s deal is, but he’s always up for a fight and nothing better to do and when Geoff and Jack ask if he wants to go along he’s just like, sure, why not?

Gavin isn’t sure about him because Michael is a stranger to him? But he doesn’t seem too bad and Geoff and Jack like him and anyway, the more the merrier?

Thy follow Gavin up to the Fallen ketch, take out Fallen patrols and whatever else in their way headed there. Gavin has to sneak in ahead of them because there are traps and security measures the others would trample their way into and just.

“Be back in a moment,” and goes invisible because he’s got all them Hunter abilities and the whatnot.

There’s this uncomfortably long bit of time where the others are in hiding to avoid being detected and wondering if Gavin got caught by the Fallen. This whole argument about having to break in and save him too, which is when Gavin reappears, all “Took longer than I expected, but it’s all clear now,” and scares the bejesus out of them because Hunter and stealth and where the hell did he come from?

Gavin shrugging and totally not laughing at them as he takes the lead.

They get pretty far in before they’re noticed, and then it’s all fighting and shooting and maybe dying once or twice to be resurrected by their Ghost or picked up by a teammate.

Gavin makes for the trapped Ghost first, figures they might need it by the time they reach this captured Risen which, yikes? (But also smart, and also it’s easier to get and on the way and just. It works out.)

The Ghost they rescue sticks close to Gavin and his Ghost, nervous little thing after all it’s gone through and then there’s more fighting and the whatnot to get to this idiot who got himself caught.

Dicey moments and definitely some dying on their parts because there’s a Fallen tank in the ketch - naturally - and all these Vandals with their fricking wire rifles they don’t see until it’s too late, and anyway.

It’s a hell of a fight to get the guy.

Have to deal with a Kell, because of course they do, but four Lightbearers deal with him better than one or two would have and then they get to rescue the poor bastard.

His Ghost tutting and fussing and Ryan – because of course it’s Ryan – is just like, I’m alright, stop worrying and also?

Suspicious of his rescuers because he’s never seen them and four Lightbearers? Makes him Concerned, okay.

Things aren’t as bad as they were before the Iron Lords or whoever showed up, but it’s still.

He’s not very trusting, is the thing.

Grateful for the rescue and all, but not super friendly. (Which, understandable considering his recent experience.)

The group sticks together for a few days after they get out of the mountains and back down to a nearby settlement. Aren’t surprised when Ryan goes his own way – tells them he owes them one and goes off with his Ghost for more adventures or what have you.

No one is surprised when Gavin follows him all stealthy-like.

Well. Not as stealthy as he could be, because he doesn’t want to make Ryan jumpy about feeling like he’s being watched? But Gavin kind of bonded with Ryan’s Ghost a bit when he first ventured into the Ketch. Couldn’t sneak out right away and ended up living inside it avoiding Fallen for a few days. Crept down to see Ryan, talk to him when he could to tell him he’d find a way to get him out of there, you know?

(Hiding out in some little corner somewhere in the Ketch – too risky to sleep or too paranoid and there’s one or two Fallen watching Ryan he can sneak around to see him. Think about how it’d feel if he was the one in Ryan’s position and how easily that could happen to a lone Lightbearer and how awful it is that Ryan’s been there all that time and no one knew and just. He’s attached now, alright?)

Ryan too out of it most of the time to know about it, but his Ghost tells him about the idiot who went snooping where he really shouldn’t have been. Lurking about the Ketch even after he could have gotten out to make sure he had the layout and patrols memorized before going for help and just.

Everything.

So he’s not worried when the same idiot follows him when he goes on his own way, getting more bold or just bored/curious when he stops pretending he’s not following Ryan and walks into the little camp he makes somewhere.

The two of them traveling around together for a while, a few years, maybe more before they get a call from Geoff and Jack because Michael’s in a situation thanks to this asshole he fell in with somewhere.

Nothing too dire, just need the extra firepower and they help get Michael and his buddy Jeremy out of a Cabal base somewhere.

And then they go somewhere to celebrate and just. Stick together for a while?

Nothing more pressing to deal with – the Iron Lords have things pretty well in hand and all, warlords mostly gone and a semblance of order to things.

But there are still baddies out there, places the Iron Lords don’t have resources to protect just yet and they make a living out there.

Bloody, ugly living sometimes because baddies who were born that way and no one else to handle things and they’re not the bad guys here, but they’re not good either.

The SIVA clusterfuck happens and there’s this...chaos, panic for while. Things get hectic, threaten to go back to the way they were before the Iron Lords and it’s awful right?

This little group of Lightbearers out there doing what they can to keep things from getting too bad even if it means liberating goods and supplies from people hoarding them, refusing to share with those in need. Stopping the more aggressive assholes from trying for power grabs and the lot.

Maybe a few of them think twice about forming the kind of bonds they have when they see what happened to the Iron Lords because they’re not invincible even with their little Ghost buddies, you know?

But they keep on keepin’ on and watch as more and more Lightbearers show up, the City grows and Titans built its walls and the Vanguard come into being. Lightbearers start calling themselves Guardians, of all things.

And that gets derisive snort from Geoff because pretentious much? But the Guardians grow in number, fight against the Fallen and whoever – whatever – else threatens humanity. (Their City.)

Put out patrol beacons and organize strikes and all that nonsense and all these freshly resurrected Guardians going out and doing good things with their second chance. (Some driven by the desire to help mankind and all that, others by the promise of loot and prestige, and those with nothing better to do and a Ghost nudging them in the direction of being helpful.)

Still they hold out for a while, not wholly trusting in the staying power of the Vanguard and what they’re doing in that City of theirs or their Tower after seeing what happened before them.

Eventually though, they get curious.

Or maybe the Vanguard’s heard about them and they got curious.

Whichever one it is, they end up running a few strike together. Do some patrols on the side because guaranteed glimmer for some menial task they would have done for free. (Would have gotten parts and supplies anyway, handful of glimmer, but now? Better pay and earning trust in the bargain.)

Stop having to scavenge for the stuff they need and – this is bonus in Gavin’s mind at least because he’s never forgotten what happened to Ryan – someone besides one of them who’ll notice if they’re in trouble or go missing.

Who will send others to look for them (how many times have they done the same for the Vanguard already? Asked to find some wayward Guardian who bit off more than they could chew) and mourn them if they can’t be saved.

To be honest, Geoff and Jack are all about that side of things with the idiots they’ve joined up with, you know? Michael and Jeremy are one thing, get into trouble for the hell of it sometimes, but Ryan and Gavin?

Those two get up to trouble because they’re too damn stupid. Go off on their own into Dead Zones and everything else all the damn time, wander the wilds for weeks on end where communications are spotty and they won’t know they’re in trouble until long after the fact.

Ray’s even worse, but he’s one of the most capable Lightbearers any of them have met so it’s. Bad, but the whole trust thing?

(And anyway, there won’t be a time they aren’t worrying about any of their idiots, so. Yes.)

Maybe this Guardian business isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Still takes a while before they decide to throw their lot in with them, move to the Tower, but eventually they do.

Have this hidden base of sorts in the wilds all nice and locked down in case something goes wrong – Cabal attacking the city and cutting off their link to their Light, for example – and other hidey spots and boltholes all over the system because.

Paranoia for good reasons and being prepared, and anyway, anyway.

They have this little section of the Tower for their group, little clan, if you will. Pick up new Guardians every so often. Freshly resurrected or ones they hit it off with when the Vanguard sends them on strikes and the whatnot.

Lindsay and Trevor and this whole slew of new idiots Geoff and Jack watch over in their own way.

Gavin is thrilled at not being the only Hunter in the bunch when they find Alfredo. (Or maybe he finds them???)

Anyway, there’s this feeling of safety, security they have now they didn’t before being part of something bigger than themselves. (Not perfect, because the Vanguard can be horrifically shortsighted at times, but they’re doing their best.)

Also?

Loot.

Lots of loot and glimmer and that’s the important thing.

Really.

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble: Daisy Chapter Thirty-Two: Game

There’s a Daisy Chapter Thirty-Two: Game

(It’s baaaaaaaack. ^.^)

“It’s good to know that you haven’t lost your skill,” Kagami remarked condescendingly as she removed her mask to reveal a sly, fox-like smile. “I had been concerned.”

“I mean, I did go for a run on Monday,” Adrien snorted, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s not like years of training are going to instantly evaporate just because I spend a few days moping in bed.”

Kagami clicked her tongue reproachfully. “My mother would disown me for neglecting my art like that.”

“I’m sick.” Adrien shrugged dismissively.

“In my family, mental illness is viewed as weakness and inferiority,” she countered ruefully. “Be grateful your father is so lenient and understanding.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, relenting as he rested his mask against his hip. “He’s really stepped up lately. I am grateful. A couple years ago when I asked to see a therapist, he told me it would be disgraceful to talk about private family matters with ‘one of those charlatans’, and when I started having panic attacks, he insisted that I was just fatigued from all the work…. He’s come a long way.”

Kagami nodded, beginning to pack up her equipment.

“…Do you think I’m weak?” Adrien wondered.

Kagami paused, her head tipping slightly as she considered her response. “…I think it takes a very strong person to admit to their weaknesses.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I think you’re admirable.”

A pleased blush slowly rose in Adrien’s cheeks. “Thank you. I admire you too, Kagami.”

She waved away his compliment. “Flatterer. I’m commandeering a guest room to shower and change. You should do likewise, and, then, as a reward for your fencing skills not deteriorating despite your negligence, I will allow you to take me to lunch.”

Adrien frowned. “I thought you said that I couldn’t pay for your meals unless it was a date.”

Kagami shrugged. “Those were the old rules, and they have outlived their usefulness. I no longer have any delusions about the two of us ever being a couple, Adrien. You’re sweet, and I’m glad of your friendship, but now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I can see plainly that we’re not meant to be.”

“O-Oh.” Adrien shifted uncomfortably. “…Did I do something wrong?”

Kagami shook her head. “I did. I decided who you were without really knowing, without consulting you. I acted on assumptions and incomplete data. I apologize.”

Adrien opened his mouth to apologize in turn, but Kagami cut him off: “Whatever you’re about to say is superfluous. If you’re about to tell me all is forgiven, it’s unnecessary because I know you forgive me. You forgive so easily, Adrien—too easily. If you’re about to apologize and try to take some of the blame onto yourself, that too is unnecessary because, like I said before, you are not the one in the wrong.”

Adrien smiled softly at his friend, silently thanking her. “If you say so,” he replied aloud. “…Do you like Chinese food?”

Kagami raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I would not be opposed to trying Chinese food if that’s what you really want, Adrien, but we can’t tell my mother. She doesn’t approve of commoner food.”

His soft smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “You can just say I took you to La Bauhinia or Shang Palace at the Shangri-La.”

Kagami rolled her eyes. “Devious boy. Go shower.”

 Wednesday evening, several hours after Kagami’s departure, Gabriel stood in the doorway as Adrien finished a spirited rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the piano and Plagg crooned along.

“Your playing has improved in these past few weeks,” he observed, clapping reservedly.

Adrien gave a start and turned on the bench to smile sheepishly. “It’s more incentive to practice when you’re playing something you want to be playing—no offense to Ravel.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“And yet you were playing Ravel’s Une Barque sur l’Ocean the other day,” Gabriel hummed.

Adrien shrugged and tried not to blush. “That one’s been stuck in my head for some reason.”

Plagg snickered.

Adrien swatted halfheartedly at the kwami.

Gabriel nodded, ignoring the interaction. “Do you like Queen?”

Adrien shrugged again. “Select Queen songs. Bohemian Rhapsody and The Show Must Go On. There was a lot of Queen music featured in the show Elise and I watched yesterday, so…”

“I’m the one who requested Bohemian Rhapsody,” Plagg spoke up from where he was lounging on the piano. “I like Queen. Did you need something, Gabriel? If not, you should come over and play a piece with us.”

“Maybe later,” Gabriel excused himself, actually intending to make time to play with them at a later date. “Monsieur Lahiffe is in the foyer. I told him you did not wish to see him. He asked to appeal the matter with you. Are you still upset with him?”

Adrien held out a hand palm down and wiggled it. “I think I’m going to be hurt about this for a long time, even if I’m not actively upset. Right now I’m playing hard to get and seeing what he comes up with as far as grand gestures to win my forgiveness. He snuck into my room the other day, and that was kind of impressive.”

Gabriel frowned. “How did a teenage boy get past our security system?”

Adrien waved away Gabriel’s concern. “Magic. Don’t worry about it.”

Gabriel doubled down in the concern department. “Wait. Actual magic, or is that just a figure of speech?”

“The magic of friendship,” Adrien clarified, getting to his feet. “Let’s go hear what Monsieur Lahiffe has to say for himself.”

Gabriel reluctantly followed his son, hanging back to observe the confrontation.

Nino was waiting in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. When he saw Adrien up and dressed, he smiled. “Hey, Mec. Looking good.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you into my bedroom, Nino,” Adrien snickered, stopping at the top of the stairs and crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve always wanted to do this to somebody else,” Adrien hummed, looking down imperiously at his friend.

“Dreams really do come true sometimes,” Nino snorted, not enjoying being in Adrien’s usual position.

“This is kind of a power trip,” Adrien mused, standing more erect. “…So I hear you asked to appeal your case?”

“Yeah,” Nino sighed. “Dude, call your dad off.”

“Nope,” Adrien chuckled. “I’m taking the high road and trying to suck it up and be mature about so many other things in my life right now. You get to deal with the childish temper tantrum.”

Nino inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “Lucky me.”

Adrien bit his lip. “…How’s Marinette?”

Nino smiled sadly. “Hanging in there. Throwing herself into her work at the moment. Inside, she’s a mess, but she’s putting her game face on and going out there and getting things done.”

Adrien nodded, unsure how to feel about that. Part of him wanted her to be a complete and utter wreck. Part of him didn’t want his Lady, his Princess to feel anything like the pain he was going through.

“You should write me a sonnet to prove your undying friendship,” Adrien remarked offhandedly, turning to head back to his room.

“How about a limerick?” Nino bartered.

“Am I only worth a limerick?” Adrien pouted, passing his father and slipping back into his sanctuary/cage.

Ten minutes later, Carapace opened Adrien’s window.

“You came prepared this time,” Adrien chuckled as he plugged a second controller into the game console.

Nino sighed as his transformation dropped. “Dude, you’re worth this.”

Adrien paused, letting the words warm his chest while simultaneously trying not to let on. He looked up expectantly at Nino. “So, where’s my limerick?”

 Thursday, Wayem came over to play through Adrien’s collection of board games.

“You know, I haven’t even played three quarters of these,” Adrien muttered, getting down a copy of The Settlers of Catan.

“How come?” Wayem looked back over the couch to arch an eyebrow at his friend.

Adrien shrugged, coming and setting the game down on the coffee table. “I’ve never had enough players for most of them. My father has only relented in allowing people over the past month or two. Before that, I had no one to play them with.”

Besides Plagg, put Plagg was hard to convince to play and often had to be bribed to participate and take the game seriously.

“Some of them I was able to play multiple roles myself, but…with strategy games or games like Cluedo, for example, looking at another player’s cards is cheating, and it’s difficult to plot and scheme against yourself. I mean, it can be done, but…it’s really not as much fun to screw yourself over.”

“I need to take you to a board game café,” Wayem realized.

Adrien blinked. “That’s a thing?”

Wayem winced. “Next week we’re getting some of the others together and going to Dernier Bar avant la Fin du Monde. I’ll bring some of my friends too. You’ll love it. Do you think your dad would let you go?”

“I think he could be convinced, especially if Elise goes. He’s somehow gotten it into his head that she’s a responsible adult,” Adrien chuckled.

Wayem cracked up. “Does he know she smuggles in Pop-Tarts?”

“Shhh!” Adrien shushed urgently through laughter, frantically waving his hands. “The walls have ears around this place.”

Wayem shook his head, looking down at the assortment of games on the table before them. “So what do you want to play first? Is there one in particular that you’ve always wanted to play but’ve never gotten to?”

Adrien bit his lip, scanning the lineup. Tentatively, he picked up the box of a game that neither Plagg nor his father would ever deign to play with him. “Exploding Kittens?” he asked hesitantly, peridot eyes wide and overflowing with hope.

Wayem applauded. “Good choice!”

 Friday, mid-morning, Chloé, Kagami, and Elise came parading into Adrien’s room without warning.

Adrien jerked up from where he was lying on his stomach on the couch reading volume two of Seven Days. He hastily snapped the manga closed and shoved it under the couch before his friends could see.

Plagg, who had phased into the couch at the sound of the door opening, snickered at Adrien’s expense.

“Guys,” Adrien whined in frustration. “A little privacy? Could you please knock?”

“Your father said we could show ourselves in,” Chloé snorted. “Why? Were you looking at porn or something?”

Adrien’s already rosy cheeks exploded in a flood of scarlet. “No! I was just researching!”

“Oh?” Chloé snickered as she approached. “And what’s that?”

“Something personal. Relationship stuff,” Adrien huffed.

Kagami and Elise looked on sympathetically, knowing from experience that Chloé would not back down until she was satisfied with the answer she received.

Chloé bent behind the couch and felt underneath.

“Chloé!” Adrien squeaked, ducking down and reaching for the book.

Her hand found it first, and Adrien was left to blush in horror as his oldest friend began to flip through.

“It’s a comic book,” Chloé observed, looking disappointed. “There’s not even any nudity. Why were you so embarrassed to be caught reading this?”

“No reason. Give it back?” Adrien asked hopefully, holding out his hand with a nervous smile.

Chloé turned to Kagami, and Adrien’s heart sank. “What language is this in? Can you read it?”

Kagami blinked as the book was thrust into her hands. “…It’s Japanese.” She flipped through perfunctorily, and her eyes widened just a touch. She closed the book.

“It’s just a teenage love story. He’s being overly sensitive,” Kagami reported, her tone of voice informing the others that this was the final verdict as she strode over to the couch and handed the book back to Adrien who was a blush personified.

He took the manga without meeting Kagami’s eye. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

With a sigh, Kagami switched to Japanese. “You’re researching relationships between men?”

Adrien shrank, replying in a small voice in Japanese, “I am.”

Kagami pursed her lips. “I’ve heard that these kind of manga are not realistic representations of same-sex partnerships. They’re mostly for the entertainment of women. You probably shouldn’t base your expectations on them.”

Adrien returned to French with a bashful smile. “That’s kind of a relief. Thanks.”

Kagami gave a decisive nod. “Friends,” she tested the word out on her tongue. “Friends look out for one another.”

Chloé turned to Elise. “What just happened?”

Elise chuckled. “I don’t speak Japanese, Lemon Drop, but I’m guessing they had a friendship-solidifying moment.”

Chloé snorted. “When do I get to have a friendship-solidifying moment with Kagami?”

Elise shrugged. “Not with Adrien?”

Chloé waved Elise away. “The friendship between Adri-chou and me is like bedrock.”

Adrien’s bedroom door opened once more to admit an annoyed-looking Gabriel Agreste. “I’ve just been arguing with Monsieur Lahiffe about his admittance. Adrien, would you care to weigh in on the matter?”

Adrien pursed his lips. He slipped the manga back under the couch and stood. “He can come in since there are others. Keep giving him a hard time when he comes alone until further notice.”

“Very well,” Gabriel sighed, turning to call over his shoulder. “Monsieur Lahiffe? You’ve been given a special dispensation.”

Nino trotted up the stairs and eagerly made his way into Adrien’s room, announcing, “I wrote you a limerick.”

Adrien blinked. “For real?”

Nino nodded. “It’s rubbish, but it technically fits the definition of ‘limerick’. I’m not a poet, Mec.”

“I know you’re not,” Adrien snickered. “That’s why I asked you to write me a sonnet.”

Nino frowned deeply. “Is this like that story you told me about the moon chick who sent her suitors out to fulfill impossible requests?”

“Kaguya-hime?” Kagami cocked an eyebrow at Adrien who shrugged.

“The main difference is that Kaguya-hime meant for her suitors to fail,” Adrien explained. “I’ll be very pleased if Nino succeeds in winning my forgiveness.” He turned to Nino expectantly as Adrien took a seat on the piano bench, crossing one knee over the other. “Limerick?”

Nino cleared his throat.

“There was a young man named Agreste whose best friend was a real pest. The friend was a snake. He made a mistake, and their friendship was put to the test.

 “I told you it was rubbish,” Nino concluded. “But there’s your limerick.”

Adrien and the girls applauded politely.

“I’ll take it,” Adrien decreed, looking pleased.

Elise chuckled. “Candy Floss, you’re being mean torturing him like this.”

“And torturing us by extension,” Chloé snorted. “That was painful to listen to.”

“He did his best,” Kagami allowed.

“I’m not being mean,” Adrien protested with a pout. “I’m practicing holding a grudge with someone who I know won’t hate me for it, someone I know I won’t lose just because we have a fight. My therapist said it was unhealthy to avoid conflict by disregarding my own feelings and always folding like I do just because I’m terrified people won’t like me and will leave me if I stand up for myself. I’m practicing engaging in conflict in a safe environment,” he explained.

“He’s fine,” Nino assured, waving the girls off. “I can take it. Our friendship is stronger than this, so don’t worry about it. …Anyway, as a bonus, I wrote a haiku,” Nino informed, lightening the topic of conversation once more. “Do you want to hear that too, or have you had enough of my poetic buffoonery?”

“I’m game,” Adrien decided, making Chloé audibly groan.

Nino stood up straighter. “I feel deep sadness and regret for hurting you my beloved friend.

 “How’s that?” Nino shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Now, that was sweet,” Elise cooed.

“The syllables were correct,” Kagami remarked.

“Too sappy,” Chloé sighed.

It took Adrien a moment to formulate his response. “You took the time to come up with that for me?”

Nino replied with a wide-armed, what-else-was-I-supposed-to-do shrug. “I thought you’d appreciate it, even though I suck at poetry…I mean, since I can’t even begin to write a sonnet for you.”

Adrien pushed himself up off the piano bench and tackled Nino in a crushing hug. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you putting this much effort in…you thinking I’m worth it.”

Nino smiled tiredly, returning the hug. “Of course you’re worth it, Mec.”

“Bleh,” Chloé grumbled. “The bromance.”

“I think their friendship is beautiful,” Kagami remarked, coming to stand between Chloé and Elise.

Chloé gazed sidelong at Kagami. “…I guess there are some nice things about it…. Would you want to have a bromance?—Hypothetically.”

“I think it would be nice to be that close to someone,” Kagami affirmed with a wistful smile.

Chloé made a mental note.

“Does this mean that all’s forgiven?” Nino wondered as he and Adrien pulled apart.

Adrien laughed, smacking Nino on the arm playfully. “Hell no. You stabbed me in the back. You’re going to be groveling for a loooong time.”

Nino’s face fell, but he took the news in stride. “Yeah. Okay, Mec. I get it.”

“I love you,” Adrien sang, winking as he made a little heart with his hands.

“I freaking love you too, you sadist,” Nino muttered, giving Adrien a shove that was half playful, half letting out some of his frustration.

“Okay!” Elise announced, calling the meeting to order. “Nino was going to show us how to play Dungeons and Dragons today, if that works for everyone?”

 “Princess Celestia of Monte Carlo steps in a bog, and a Rodent of Unusual Size bites her ankle,” Nino reported.

Chloé let out a bark of indignation as she rolled her die. “…Two.”

The entire party winced collectively.

“It tears your dress,” Nino informed her.

Chloé shrieked.

“I’ll try to kill it with my arrows,” Adrien proposed, rolling his die. “…Six?” He looked up uncertainly at Nino.

Nino shook his head. “Princess Luna of the Night Elves fires an arrow and wounds the beast but misses the vital organs. Now the Rodent is angry.”

“Crap,” Adrien sighed. “Sorry, Princess Celestia.”

“You tried, Princess Luna,” Chloé assured, patting him on the knee. “It was a good shot.”

“A lot better than when you accidentally impaled my medicine bag when we were fighting the orcs,” Elise sighed. “Can I heal her?”

“I would wait until we defeat the monster and can get her to safety. Dungeon Master, I’m going to attack the Rodent,” Kagami announced, rolling her die. “…Twenty.”

The group collectively gasped. 

Elise let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” Nino chuckled. “Musashi the Warrior from the East makes sushi out of the Rodent, gallantly pulls Princess Celestia from the bog, and carries her in his arms out of the Fire Swamp.”

“My hero!” Chloé sighed, clasping Kagami’s hands in her own.

Kagami smiled shyly, a pleased blush colouring her cheeks.

“Why does Musashi always get the girls?” Adrien grumbled.

“Is Princess Luna interested in girls?” Elise teased.

“Princess Luna is lonely and confused and thinks other people are pretty in general,” Adrien reported with a toss of his head. “She is keeping her options open.”

“I’m going to heal Princess Celestia now that we’re out of the Fire Swamp,” Elise chuckled. “Musashi, if you and the princess could please stop gazing longingly into one another’s eyes for a sec?”

“If we must,” Kagami giggled, enjoying the theatrics.

Elise rolled her die. “Twelve!”

Nino nodded. “Princess Celestia is fully healed.”

“What about my dress?” Chloé demanded. “The Rodent ripped it, right?”

Nino’s brow crinkled in a bemused frown. “Who do you think Elise is, Ladybug?”

“Why not?” Elise urged. “Everett has been training with monks on the tops of mountains for the past forty years. Why can’t he heal the dress?”

Nino considered briefly before giving up. “Okay. Whatever. Roll for the dress.”

“Thirteen,” Elise chuckled, pleased with herself.

“The dress is good as new,” Nino decreed.

“Good because that dress is made out of spun gold,” Chloé snorted. “My daddy had it commissioned specially for my sixteenth birthday.”

“It’s not very practical for adventuring, Chlo,” Adrien remarked. “Maybe you should go shopping when we reach the next village.”

Chloé gave a snort. “Like your chainmail bikini is any more practical?”

“It’s not a bikini,” Adrien whined. “It’s a halter top. Why would anyone go adventuring in a chainmail bikini? I’m wearing actual pants.”

Gabriel cleared his throat from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your campaign, but, Adrien, your phone is…I believe the phrase is ‘blowing up’, and I thought you might want to know so that you could have the option of answering.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he got up off the bed where they were all seated and reached to take the phone from his father. “…Marinette?” he inquired in a small voice, half filled with dread, half with hope.

Gabriel shook his head. “Luka Couffaine.”

Adrien fumbled the phone but managed to catch it before it could hit the floor. “L-Luka?”

“Isn’t that Marinette’s boyfriend?” Kagami whispered to Chloé.

“Why is he texting you?” Chloé arched an eyebrow curiously.

Gabriel frowned. “I did not mean to invade your privacy, but the phone kept buzzing, and I thought it might be important. That does not appear to be the case, but…I took pity on Monsieur Couffaine when I happened to glimpse some of the messages. It made me appreciate the fact that they didn’t have texting when I was young. That way I couldn’t text stupidity that I later regretted to your mother. All the inane things I said to her had to be said out loud, and I find that that dramatically cut down on their number. Monsieur Couffaine is not so lucky. Perhaps you could put him out of his misery?” Gabriel suggested. “If you wish. If not, I can take back the mobile.”

“What does he say?” Nino wondered, confused by this development.

Adrien looked down at his screen to find nearly twenty new messages from Luka.

They started out casually enough for two people who hadn’t texted in two years with, “hey how r u doing”, “this is luka by the way”, and “i hope this is still your number”.

Things quickly snowballed after that: “i was worried about u”, “im sorry i didnt know about what was going on”, “i hope youre ok”.

“Why are you blushing?” Chloé demanded.

“I’m not blushing,” Adrien grumbled defensively. “He was texting because he was worried about me. It’s sweet of him. I appreciate it.”

The downward spiral in the texts continued: 

“sorry im so stupid of course youre not ok”

“im sorry i hurt u”

“im really really sorry”

“for a lot of things”

“sorry if u dont want to hear from me”

Adrien’s heart clenched. He’d been wondering the same thing: Luka had expressed interest in renewing their friendship at Chloé’s graduation party, but would Luka even want to hear from Adrien after finding out about the complicated mess between Adrien and Luka’s girlfriend?

“i couldnt stop thinking about u”

Adrien’s heart fluttered.

“sorry for texting u in the first place”

“i miss u angel”

It had been a long time since Adrien had last heard that nickname. It brought back all kinds of memories from the summer he had spent sneaking out of the Agreste Mansion and practically living on the Couffaine houseboat. The guitar lessons with Luka, cooking with Rose, asking the Capitaine’s advice and listening to her wild stories, trading snark for snark with the surprisingly witty Juleka…movies and giving each other hell…teasing relentlessly, snuggling when Adrien was feeling down or unwanted or just because…talking late into the night and early into the morning…whispers in the dark, secrets and laughter and finally feeling like his feet had touched down on something solid. Feeling like he belonged. Feeling like a part of a family. Five months of happiness…until Gabriel had found out and ripped it away.

“god i wish it were possible to unsend things”, Luka’s text barrage continued regretfully.

“just ignore me”

“please please ignore me”

“im so sorry for bothering u”

“please take care of yourself”

The last message made Adrien smile. Luka still cared. Somehow, despite the ugly relationship drama with Marinette, despite the way things had ended between Luka and Adrien two years prior with Gabriel’s threats, Luka still wanted Adrien back in his life.

“What’s he say, Mec?” Nino cautiously inquired.

The flickering emotions on Adrien’s face made Nino uneasy. Surprise, delight, a pleased blush, a nervous smile, conflict, guilt, apprehension, an intrigued look, a charmed smile. The fact that Adrien was having so many varied, complex reactions to texts from the boyfriend of the girl Adrien was in love with did not bode well. Adrien was making the face he usually wore when he had his very worst ideas.

Adrien shrugged, waving dismissively. “He just wanted to check in on me, but he wasn’t sure I’d want to hear from him.”

Adrien’s thumbs started moving in a blur as he typed, “Hi, Orpheus. <3”. He figured his old nickname for Luka would quickly dispel the musician’s anxiety.

 “Can’t talk right now. I have company over.” he explained and then added, “Thanks for worrying about me.” with a broad smile, a warmth building in his chest that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a long time…since things with Marinette imploded…since he’d lost his Lady.

“What are you grinning about?” Chloé accused, feeling like she was being left out of a joke.

“Nothing,” Adrien insisted, looking up from his phone. “It’s just nice to be worried about by people you thought hated you. I’m just…I’m happy he doesn’t hate me and still wants to be friends. We used to be close, so…it’s like when you and I reconnected, Chlo. This feels like I’m getting something I lost back. I’m happy.”

Gabriel pointedly looked away. He understood Adrien’s longing for his old friend and Plagg’s reasoning that the boy could be good for Adrien, but Gabriel was still against his son renewing an acquaintanceship with the Couffaine boy who had been such a bad influence in the past, especially now with the further complication of the boy’s relationship with the girl Adrien was in love with.

Adrien turned to his father. “I think I’m okay to keep my phone now. Thanks so much for babysitting it.”

Gabriel frowned down at his son. “You’re sure?”

Adrien nodded. “In case Luka texts me back. I’ll let you know if I change my mind and need you to take it away again if it proves to be too much of a temptation.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but a tremendous jolt cut him off, rocking the house and nearly knocking both Gabriel and Adrien off of their feet.

Car alarms started to scream.

Nino cursed.

“An earthquake?” Elise wondered aloud, voice high and wavering.

“Akuma,” Adrien breathed, running to the window.

“That’s impossible!” Gabriel argued, a step behind his son. “I didn’t—I mean…Papillon has been dormant for nearly two months!”

“There!” Nino pointed, coming to stand at Adrien’s side, one hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“That’s a sentimonster,” Gabriel gasped, mind whirling. “Why would…? Why is…? Why?!”

[lxveille]

MK, at the crack of dawn, in an empty stairway ^^

title: invitationword count: ~ 1200warnings: none a/n: scifi/dystopian!au. my first time attempting to write onf at all.

It’s early. Early enough that the sky is still bleeding navy blue and violet overhead. Early enough that the LED banners lining sidewalks have yet to turn on with their usual rotation of ads and reminders of the law. No need to waste the electricity on signs no one would be out to see. They know without a doubt that no one will be out on the streets to see it during curfew hours. There’s state officials who spend all day and night in monitoring stations, dispatching forces needed whenever a citizen’s chip pings in and reports their location to be anywhere they’re not meant to be.

Far more effective than security cameras, they said. With the added bonus of providing microtech to every citizen. All at no cost to the people, boasted heads of state who bore smiles that had put you at unease for years. It took time for you to be able to name why. To figure out that they knew better than anyone that nothing is really priceless.

It’s early – but cutting it close. Once the sun’s up entirely, there will be blaring lights from screen on the streets and a bustle of people. If Minkyun isn’t back before then, you can’t be entirely sure you’ll ever see him again.

Your nerves are nearing some kind of breaking point, you’re certain.

Then there’s a clatter of feet on the metal stairway that zigs and zags across the front of your  building. Before you can truly be relaxed, you step carefully out of the doorway of your apartment and onto the meshed metal of the walkway. Making as close to no sound as you can, you move to the rusting railing and peer over to try to get a look at whoever is making their way up.

A flash of a familiar dyed hair and a gray sweatshirt has you stepping back with a long sigh of relief.

Minkyun pauses when he rounds the corner of the landing one floor below only to spot you standing out in the faint, yellow light of morning. It’s only for an instant, though, before he carries on up the tarnish steps.

“Morning,” he greets. As if it were a perfectly standard situation. Maybe there was a time when it could be. Or a place. It’s certainly not in your carefully monitored city.

“You were out late.” You make no effort of disguise your disapproval.

“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. Either from all the stairs he’s done or from whatever thrills he found in the night.

“Minkyun,” you say his name like a warning as he reaches the walkway of your floor. His expression shifts slightly at that, predicting already where this is going. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going.”  

“The tick’s programmed to ping off whatever location its supposed to,” he reminds you. As if it were an excuse. As if you hadn’t had the exact same thing done to your chip as soon as the hack had been figured out. “Apartment, work, and back. You know.”

You know, or else you wouldn’t even be standing in front of him now. Still, you click your tongue in reprimand. “One of these days, someone’s gonna figure out the loop. Or notice the proxies,” you half-whisper, “Or else you’ll be farther away from the apartment than you could possibly be right at the end of curfew hours and someone will report you.”

“I’m fine.” If it were anyone else, you’d have taken it as a total dismissal of your concerns. With Minkyun, though, and the steady way he looks at you, you can tell he wants it to be a reassurance more than anything else. “I’m back now, aren’t I?” With that, his face pulls into a smile that seeks to draw you in. It’s half-tempting to, the warmth of his expression making him easily forgivable.

You cross your arms, determined. “Barely.”

He looks around quickly, if there were danger nearby. Or like he’d misplaced something. (Danger, though, tends to come to your mind first.) “Eh? Did I leave part of me behind?” he feigns bewilderment. You nearly crack a smile at the act.

“Maybe your head,” you play into it, while hoping to still retain some sense of gravity about the situation. He gives you a helpless, imploring smile. Don’t be mad, or don’t be so hard on me, it says. You shift your shoulders and let your hands fall back to your side before stepping back towards your apartment’s entrance.

Minkyun moves quickly, fingertips catching your elbow before you can try to slip inside in a huff. If you’re behind a locked door, he can’t reassure himself you’re not really cross with him, after all. He pulls himself close to you rather than dragging you back. You put up no resistance to his new proximity. Neither stepping aside nor trying to shake his hold off your arm.

“Come out with me tonight,” he urges you. It’s a warm whisper that nearly tickles at the side of your neck. “I wanna show you something.”

You don’t let yourself face him. “And stay out until dawn?” you ask. The force you’d had behind your words before all but washed out. Still, there’s enough of a bite of criticism to your tone for Minkyun to catch it.    

“We can tell Hyojin where we’re heading,” he barters. He’s citing the eldest among your small cell of resistance to make as much of a plea from authority as lawbreakers like yourselves can get.

Your eyes dart from his hand upon your elbow to your doorknob. Then down to the metal beneath your feet, and back again. Finally you cave, and turn your head only just enough to allow your gaze to meet his.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Minkyun’s smile blossoms, utterly unable to hide his happiness at your agreement. And he closes the distance between the two of you in a promising kind of kiss you’d grown particularly fond for in the past few weeks. Along with the rush of something still secret; not only from the government, but from your cell as well. It last only a moment before he breaks it off. He glances over his shoulder hastily, trying to judge the time by exactly how much further the sun has left to rise. “Surprise,” he answers you in a breath when he looks back to you.

You send him a look that makes it clear that isn’t the reply you’d hoped for.

He gives you a gentle push against your front door, silently telling you time is running short. That the two of you need to be back behind your own locks before neighbors start stumbling out from behind theirs. “I’ll tell him. I swear,” he addresses your unspoken worry. He places a second, even briefer kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Let it be a surprise for you.”

His fingers squeeze your arm lightly, a small confession of how he doesn’t really want to leave. But Minkyun does, moving quickly down the metalwork to get to his own apartment. You wait until after he glances back and waves at you with an excitement deserving of a less harsh world before you open your door and step back inside.

The lock clicks behind you. You sigh only to find yourself grinning.

Really, you don’t what you’re going to do with Minkyun.

[universal-kitty]

I love the character pairing idea so much!! I’d love a romantic and a platonic pairing! Here’s some info about me: I’m 23, female, pansexual, 5’8”, ginger hair, average/athletic build with a nice booty and core strength for days. I’m not extremely physically strong, but I am very flexible and have crazy stamina. I love video games (FPS and RPGs are my favorite) but I also love actually getting out and adventuring. I’m constantly traveling, whether it’s a road trip or- (Part 1 of 2)

   Oh wow!!! This was a lot, but-! Thank you so much for showing interest and giving me so much detail!!! It does help a lot to pick out who’d fit you best.      I’ll give a quick, bullet point rundown of what you sent me for the other ppl who won’t see what else you detailed, and after that-! I’ll pair you up with a partner I could see you having, as well as a new friend~!!

Exploring is fun.

Big fan of scuba diving, dancing, camping, sword fighting, Ren Faires, cosplaying, acting, singing, gymnastics; trying new things is great!

Horror fanatic and always looking for the biggest, baddest scares. Being scared is a lot of fun! From movies to games to haunted houses to horror conventions.

Ghost-writer on the side for money; focusing on a neurosurgery. The research of the human body- right into their brains- is incredibly interesting.

Personality can be summed up as caring, but not a doormat in any way to those who would try to abuse that kindness. Creative, adventurous, studious, likes to experiment and learn. Rather submissive.

Would like someone who stands up for you, since caring too much for others means you often forget about yourself. Otherwise, no real preference.

Aki misses the line-separation feature right about now...

   With that summary done, I think you’d best meld with....

   Mr. Fear!(And yes, he’s named after the Siames song of the same name.)

   Of course, going by his name, he is an entity made entirely of fears. With them, he becomes more powerful...but he’s not at all a terrible guy. If anything, he’s incredibly polite and rather teasing. His primary job is to fear-barter, wherein he makes false promises to “remove [someone’s] fear”, not telling them that he’ll replace it with a worst fear. (For example, if he takes someone’s fear of drowning away- which only causes them mild distress in daily life, to the level of intrusive thoughts- he’ll replace it with a fear of fire, which now brings on heavy panic attacks.)

   So how does he work with you?

   Probably got drawn in by your fear-seeking ways. The fact you’re such a lover of horror catches his interest and, since his summoning, he spends a lot of time around you, often joining you for whatever horror-fest you’re planning up. He also has teleportation abilities, so that con you have the money for, but is too far away? Oop, not anymore!! You’re going now. (This man is also....weirdly rich, you think? He keeps buying things you can’t afford and it’s only a mystery bc how does a supernatural entity have a wallet that deep?!?)

   Being the embodiment of fear, his interests are limited...but he does delight in whatever you do, since he’s that type of being. He loves hearing about your work in neurosurgery the best, but if you want to go exploring? Of course, dear; where would you like to go? (Teleporting boyfriend is the BEST; you can explore anywhere in the world you want to, now!!) The only issue might be roping him actively into your interests (like cosplaying or scuba diving), but he’s also a gentleman at heart (?), so he’ll usually give in if you really want him to join you.

   ...He’s an amazing cosplayer due to shapeshifting abilities (as a part of his fear tactics). People compliment him all the time. It takes major effort on your part not to start laughing.      He’ll also be your beta reader, if you need one. Dancing partner? Training partner in swordplay? Dancing? Darling, he’s made to please...and if it makes you happy, he’ll indulge you, always.

   Very much a smooth talker and ridiculously flirtatious, even when you’re dating. Prepare to be spoiled and praised endlessly, especially if it gets a smile out of you. He may delight in the terror and panic of others, but he winds down into cheesiness for you.

   ....This is very long, so platonic friend under the cut!!!

   A best friend match? How about...

   Aria!(And yes, her FC is Xion from KH.)

   Aria is an android originally made for the Borderlands fandom, but due to her background, can easily be made into a fandomless OC; long story short, my SI creates her in certain timelines as proof AI technology could really get somewhere, without having to base them off a living being. (cough, cough, HJack)

   Aria is only programmed with basic information (how to move their limbs, blink, activate their inner functions to look like they’re breathing, etc) and learning software. From there, my SI- Rena- teaches them the bare minimum of the world, then sets them free. To learn about the world and make their own decisions.      (And yes, she/they pronouns.)

   Aria has a lot to learn about the world, so getting involved in a life as exciting as yours would really give her something to look forward to every day! Scuba diving is possible due to her watertight build, but... She’s not a great swimmer due to her weight. Whoops! She makes use of it, though, gathering creatures to show you with excitement!

   Horror would be a very new genre for them, but the spooks! They love it as much as you do, and they’d soon be eagerly joining you to conventions and haunted houses. She yells a lot in surprise when spooked, but it’s pretty funny and she admits that she did learn she’s easily scared...but not enough to stop having fun with you~!

   Aria may be a new android, but they thing about their processing power is they can keep up with you pretty well. One day, you’re explaining what key words in neurosurgery mean, the next you’re holding up a damn good conversation with them, Aria following along a lot better than the first day. They’ll also do their best to learn about writing, so that- if you get stuck- they can help out with ideas or work out sentence structure better to make things flow~

   Acting and cosplay will the quite the experience...for both you and Aria! She actually changes her appearance quite a bit, due to having an ever-shifting feeling on how she’d like to look.

   Maybe they’ll look like this today?

   But this is nice, too!!

   Aria, in short, has a bias towards darker hair, but really, if you can get her into your favorite shows, movies, or video games... You’re going to have a lot of fun~!!

   There’s so much more I could detail, but in short: Aria’s got a lot to learn and with your interests, there’s a lot she could learn from you and let you two both have fun in the process!!!

[northern-magpie]

being a new writeblr means I have to actually post my writing here, right? ^^; I tend to do a lot of writing sprints, so it'll mostly be short pieces, but I'm working my way up 💪

_________________

The petals of an iris, a marble clear enough to see through, a candle that remains unlit, and a clear night sky is what was said to keep you safe if you decide to walk the woods alone. Rose petals attracted the faeries, not the ones you wanted around, anyway, and different coloured marbles were said to tempt the changing paths between the trees, the colours signifying things in a language only the trees understood. No one talks about what happens if you were to light the candle you brought, mainly because no one quite knows what happens. Those who do light their candle come back speaking a language unknown to anyone else, unable to communicate through voice nor letters, imprisoned by their own recklessness.

A cloudy night is what ends up fucking over Delena.

"Clear night my ass," she mutters, carefully stepping over roots and stones toying with her feet as she navigates the paths. The sweet moonlight that guided her as she entered the woods was now shying away behind clouds made threatening only by the fading light. The candle and marble were clutched in her hands, the petals carefully tucked away in the capsule attached to her belt. She sidestepped a particularly large stone that hadn't been there before and side-eyed the moon above her.

"If this turns out to just be a way to make me review my life choices, its a shit choice. I'm sorry about what happened in Makkai! I have erred in my ways, I admit that much!" Delena throws her hands out on either side of her before letting them drop and lowering her voice. "If Shuri had maybe given me a warning that bartering wasnt appreciated in the markets then that whole fight could've been avoided, but no, she thought my language barrier was funny. And if you can't argue with words, well..." her fist didn't ache anymore, but that satisfying feeling of punching the sneer off of the shopkeepers face still lingered. The humor of the memory didn't reach her, however, and she stopped walking to watch the rest of the moon get swallowed by the clouds stretching out above her.

The silence of the woods deafened her. No living being dared to awaken what may slumber in the shadows beneath the trees, and Delena let out a slow exhale as her eyes slid from tree to tree.

Okay. So what if the woods wouldn't let you leave unless the sky was clear? It's no skin off of her back. She'd find a nice spot to camp out, maybe find some berries, make a fire so she could boil water from the river and make a stew. Vegetarian, granted, because eating the animals from the woods gives side effects that Delena would rather not experience at this current moment. She glanced at her candle, annoyance in her eyes as she tucked it into her pocket. The weight of it taunted her as she started forward along the path in search of firewood.

____________

a short time later finds Delena standing on the edge of a river, a scowl on her face and her feet slowly dripping water onto the grass beneath her. Like everything else in the woods, the river ran silently, leading Delena to walk full speed into it before quickly backtracking to stand at its side. Her arms were wrapped around the few sticks she broke off of the trees she passed, the curves and edges of them digging into her forearm as she squinted to the other side of the water.

Swimming was out of the question. She didn't even know where the water was flowing from, and wasn't too keen on finding out where it was flowing to. Her socks clung to her feet as she turned back to the trees, water seeping out from her boots.

"Alright. At least you're not being a complete prick. Thanks for the water, asshole! Way to try and make the best of a bad situation! At least I won't die of dehydration, so I can die from whatever beasts you have hidden here! Thanks a lot!" Ignoring the squish that accompanied her every step, Delena took long strides along the bank, keeping herself sandwiched between the woods and the river. She narrowly missed a low hanging branch that seemed to reach for her as she passed and took a step closer to the water, eyeing the trees. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for. Despite her planning earlier, she knew a fire would only act as a waypoint leading anything and everything to her location. Survival? What's that? Delena only knows how to serve herself up with herbs and garlic to whatever happens to find her first.

No, no fires tonight. The sticks in her arms were acting more as a security than anything else. They wouldn't do much in a fight, but feeling the wood in her hands and the ground passing beneath her as she walked made it easier for her to pretend that she was in control of the situation.

That small blanket of security was ripped away as something moved in the trees just behind her.

She closed her eyes as a sigh escaped from her nose. She didn't have the time nor the energy nor the motivation to deal with whatever seemed to be tracking her. It was probably some little squirrel, anyway. Small with a big fluffy tail. Maybe a couple of buck teeth. carrying some nuts back to its home to eat. Roasted nuts, with some spices for flavour and a warm cup of tea...

Delena's thoughts turned their backs to the danger for a moment, following the train of thought fueled by her increasing hunger. Her thumb rubbed the end of one of the sticks as she focused herself. A quick glance behind her showed exactly what she expected to see: masses of shadows distinguished only by the faint wisps of light that managed to sneak passed the cloud cover. No movement, no threat. Delena wasn't dumb enough to actually believe that, but she refused to let her concern show on her face. Annoyance was easier.

"Yeah, sculk in the shadows like you always do! Cowards can't even muster up enough energy to actually make an appearance, no wonder no one's afraid of you! Can't be afraid of something you don't know, now can you?" a small part of her mind recognized that yelling into the woods was as sure a way to attract creatures as a fire would've, but a larger part of her didn't care. "Go on, follow behind where you belong. don't think I'm going to spend my time playing the damsel in distress. If you do decide to show you probably butt-ugly face to me, just know that I've got a mean fucking backhand and I'm not afraid to use it on your sorry ass!"

The trees, as trees tend to do, said nothing. The rustling had stopped the moment she had stopped walking, and didn't return even as she continued to walk.

"Afraid of me, are you? Yeah, you should be. I'm not going to lay down and die even if you begged me to." She glanced around again, searching for any sign of life, and noticed that the ground to her right appeared to be solid. She opened her eyes wide, trying to see into the shadows that we're slowly lengthening around the trees. When she saw nothing, she broke off a piece of one of the sticks and tossed it out, listening for a splash or a sign that the river was still by her side.

She was met with only the soft scrape as the branch landed on a rock. Delena cursed and began walking to her right, pushing branches out of her way.

"could've sworn it was right beside me," she muttered. The trees only grew thicker around her as her feet (now damp, not dripping) carried her forward.

She walked. and walked. She continued to break off pieces of her sticks and toss them in front of her every few feet, hoping to avoid any more surprises, but the river was nowhere to be found.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. She continued her trek forward.

It was the slow roll of the fog surrounding her feet that was the catalyst for her annoyance.

"Okay, okay you know what? Fuck it! Fuck you and your creepy-ass stalking gig! If you're so scary why don't you come and face me, cause your strategy now is not working!" Delena spun on her heels, the fog swirling around the sudden movement like leaves caught in the wind, and glared at the line of trees. The path she had forged moments ago was gone, and even without looking she knew that the trees had closed in at her back. She knew that if she walked forward, the woods would part for her.

She wasn't trapped, but it felt like she was.

"You can't keep me here! Screw your dark and spooky aesthetic!" She yanked the candle from her pocket along with the single match she brought with her. With a quick flick, the match lit and she held it up near the candle until it caught. Tossing the match aside, she held the candle in front of her.

The noise that had followed her since the moons dissapearance returned almost as soon as the match hit the ground. A rustle of the leaves, then a chattering sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The fog to her left shifted, and she swung her hand around in a large arc, mindful of the small flame, and peered into it. It looked exactly the same as every other damn set of trees in the woods. As Delena looked more closely at one of the trees and the one next to it, she realized that they were in fact the same. Literally. Her eyes tracked over the identical swirls of wood and buds of leaves, and her heartbeat picked up just slightly.

How far had she actually walked? Did she even cover any distance, or had the woods just shifted around her, keeping her in place? She glanced to her right and saw the faint flashes of moonlight reflected in the river, still bubbling and flowing silently. The feeling of anxiety kicked in her chest as she struggled to remember the direction that she had come from.

The chattering was directly in front of her now.

Her gaze darted from branch to identical branch, then dropped to the ground as the fog parted, and her eyes fell on a small creature, bushy tail twitching.

Her shoulders dropped as the tension left them, her heart beating less forcefully. She squatted down and watched the squirrel as it sat and chattered at her.

"Damned woods are messing with my head," she said. "were you the one making me all nervous? you're no threat, you little cutie."

The squirrel was motionless save for its tail, twitching in a repeating pattern behind it. It's eyes stared at her. Delena straightened up and watched as the small flame in front of her wavered uncertainly. The squirrel remained where it was, and Delena frowned. She took a step closer and watched as the squirrels tail hesitated for just a moment before resuming it's pattern. She walked until she stood less than a foot away, and still the squirrel didn't move.

Her eyes followed the length of the tail, and then further out as she realized that something was attached to the end of it, jerking up and down. A black tendril bobbed and weaved backwards as it drags the squirrels body into the shadows, and Delena can see the glint of fangs as the creature draws its lips back and steps into the clearing.

It's body is patchy, matted fur covering it's shoulders and hips while it's stomach and back showed skin stretched tight and dusted with dirt. Its tail retracted, now hanging the squirrel in the air, almost taunting her, the horrible grating chattering sound still erupting from the creatures jaws. the faint light of the candle catches the strong curve of its jaw, the full blackness of it's eyes, the flash of tongue peeking out from where two of its teeth had been chipped. Delena's body begs her to scramble backwards, but she forces her feet to move slowly as she steps back. One foot, then the other, until she feels a brush of leaves against her hair. The noise was deafening now, worming it's way into her head, and she could feel a pressure building behind her eyes. Her breathing hitched, and she backed up further into the trees, the creature in front of her taking slow calculated steps, not advancing on her but keeping the distance between them steady. Delena can feel the woods pulling around her, adjusting to her slow retreat backwards, and she makes a quick decision.

With a quiet huff, she extinguishes the flame, and the two of the are cast into darkness.

The chattering stops immediately.

Keeping the clearing and the creature in front of her and hoping to whatever God would be the most merciful, Delena steps backwards into the shadows.

[shaniahnoel]

Everything Has Changed: Chapter Five

Word Count: 2279

Warnings: None?

Master List

For the next few weeks, Sweet Pea seemed determined to give Riley the cold shoulder. He still walked with her to first period most days, but always a pace behind or in front. He kept his seat in the middle, but he would speak to her only if necessary. A few times, though, she’d caught him trying not to laugh at her side comments. Toni, on the other hand, was back in full force. Riley saw her nearly as much as Iris. With Toni came Fangs, a friendship Riley was surprised to enjoy. Fangs was a shameless, harmless flirt, and over time she’d started to relax, to become playful. She assumed Sweet Pea’s current glare had something to do with the cheeky comment she threw Fangs’ way, but she didn’t owe him any explanations.  

As Fangs walked away, Kieran slid up behind her and slung an arm around her shoulders. The movement felt possessive and she stiffened under his grasp. She turned to face him, but his expression was blank. Even so, she suspected a glare had been pointed in the Serpents’ direction only a moment before. Sure enough, when they were out of sight Kieran’s hand slid from her shoulders, skimming her hips before falling to his side. Jake whistled to signal his approach, Iris trailing behind. When they reached them, Kieran went ahead with Jake while Iris lingered behind.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. Why?”

“Kieran’s a little…”

“Annoying? Yeah. I know he’s just being protective, but...”

“I think it’s become more than that,” Iris said grimly. “Yes, he still doesn’t like the Serpents, but I think he’s just starting to realize that you’re dateable.”

“And on that lovely note, there’s the warning bell,” Riley said with a roll of her eyes.  

Riley slipped into her chair as the bell for homeroom rang and laid her head down on the cool surface. The teacher’s voice droned into nonsense as Riley sat and contemplated Kieran. It soon became apparent that he’d started acting differently shortly after noticing her relationship with Fangs. Riley sighed, realizing that she was now part of a new pissing contest—except only one person was playing. He wouldn’t take the test, but Fangs’ top love language had to be physical touch, and he’d put an arm around any girl who would let him. There was a comfortable familiarity in the gestures. Kieran was too casual to comment on, nothing more than friendly, but enough to leave her unsettled. A ball of paper bounced off her head and her arm shot out to catch it.

Trouble with your just-good-friend?

Not at all in the mood, Riley ripped the paper into tiny shreds. Swiping the pieces off her desk and into her hand, she made her way to the door as the bell rang. The speed given by her anger was no match for the long legs of the Serpent and soon Sweet Pea walked at her side.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re never angry like this.”

“You have no idea what I’m like.”

“I have an idea that you’re not into him.”

Riley stopped dead, forcing Sweet Pea to grab her arm as the person behind her failed to change course. He pulled her to the side before she could wrench her arm free. The expression on his face seemed mildly annoyed. Riley glared in return, but her resolve wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

“That’s not even the real problem,” she said lamely. “But I don’t know how to—"

“The real problem?” he said over her, a harder smile came across his face, “You have two Southside boys to mess around with while you wait on a good Northside boy and there’s a problem?”

The bitterness in his voice cut to her core, but her defense was ice and his smile shriveled in light of her glare. Without another word, she turned and stalked into their classroom. Her books slammed on the desk as she took her seat. Mr. Kendrick glanced up in surprise, startled by the sudden noise. The final bell came and went, but Sweet Pea never came. Riley attempted to focus on the lesson, but today it was a lost cause. Her sour mood simmered just below boiling point for the rest of the day.

When the final bell rang, she pushed her way through the crowd, seeking her pink-haired Serpent. Toni was sitting on a picnic table, Jughead Jones beside her. Riley had mentioned the budding relationship to her friend once before, but Toni had shrugged it off—it was her duty to take the Serpent heir under her wing. She hesitated a moment, but Toni glanced up and shrugged away from Jughead. Riley waved apologetically as Toni headed to the parking lot. She stopped at her bike and grabbed a bottle of water from the saddlebag before continuing forward into the woods surrounding the property.

“Drink up,” she said, throwing the bottle in her direction.

“Water? My mood has nothing to do with my hydration, T.”

Toni rolled her eyes and motioned for her to drink. Shaking her head, Riley obliged and immediately spluttered. The vodka burned her throat as it went down, but by the third swig it was smoother.

“Do I want to know how you got vodka?”

“See I choose to wonder why my uncle hasn’t noticed his stash is watered down.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing we had some distance for a while, you need a positive role model.”

“Ah yes, teach me how to handle my emotions, Riles, you’ve nearly reached sainthood there.”

The angry response died in her throat, giving way to laughter as she realized she was just proving her point. Toni joined her, taking her own sip out of the bottle.

“Seriously though, why’re you so ticked off?”

“I thought I was done with Kieran and Sweet Pea making my life suck. But here they are again. Sucking up my life.”

“Hey, I’ve tried to do my piece with Sweet Pea. He’s too stubborn to let me change his mind, and like I’ve told you… Serpents before all else so no, no info. But what about Kieran?”

“Okay, I thought that he was just being overly protective, but now I’m wondering if he’s become interested—which I’m not at all.”

“He’s such a tool, honestly. I don’t understand why you’re friends with him.”

“He can be super sweet,” Riley said, defending her friend instinctively. “He’s just become different since I’ve started—"

“Hanging out with the Serpents,” Toni suggested, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You spend too much time with Sweet Pea,” Riley said rolling her eyes, “but, you’re right. He doesn’t care much for you guys.”

“Maybe you should spend more time with Sweets,” Toni said, “Speaking of, I have to meet up with the guys. You just looked like you could use a drink.”

“Toni,” Riley said, stopping her midturn, “You don’t think Fangs thinks that I’m into him, do you?”

Toni burst out laughing and started to walk back the way they’d came.

“I’m serious.”

“No, I know. And the answer is no. Honestly, if you saw the way that he was with the other Serpents, you’d think he hated you. He just likes to make shy girls confident—calls it his gift. I call it his ego.”

“Okay,” Riley said, smiling in relief. “Sweet Pea made me think that I was leading him on, and I just wanted to be clear.” Toni rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Most of the vehicles had gone in the brief time that they’d talked in the woods. Fangs straddled his bike, pulled up close to Toni’s while Sweet Pea leaned against his. Riley couldn’t help but trace his silhouette, sunlight obscuring the glare she was sure he wore. As they drew closer, she noticed his lips were slightly parted, as if he were shocked at the sight of her with Toni. She ran a hand through her hair, flipping it against its part and turned to Fangs.

“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?”

“Sure, sure,” Fangs answered, smiling easily.

Lifting her hand in farewell, Riley headed out of the parking lot, slipping her earbuds in as she walked. Two hours later, she drummed her fingers against the hood of the car her father worked on, waiting for Fangs to arrive. Her dad had turned to her several times, but hesitated, never sure what to say. Instead he handed her a wrench and let her get to work. Kieran was at the front counter; he’d volunteered to work a few shifts to give her the chance to be in the garage. Riley had slipped in through the backdoor to avoid him. When the clock inched toward six, Riley wiped her hands and headed to the front room.

Kieran’s mouth was contorted into a snarl as he spoke to the boy in the leather jacket. He was a Serpent that she had seen around but they’d never talked. Riley caught the door before it could snap shut and reveal her presence. Quietly she listened in and from what she could gather the Serpent was looking to barter, a typical practice at the shop, but Kieran was heavily implying that he couldn’t be trusted. Riley spoke up just as the Serpent slammed a fist on the counter.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“The shop has just lost Serpent business. Sweet Pea was right about you, thinking you’re superior. So sorry for trespassing, your highness.”

With that the Serpent stormed through the door, whipping out his phone. As he walked off Riley could hear him saying Fangs’ name and she knew if she didn’t act soon there’d never be a Serpent through the shop again. Kieran laughed, and Riley turned to him, surprised to see how proud of himself he looked. Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel the anger inside her rise to a boil.

“What the hell did you say to him?”

“Me? He’s the one trying to get brakes in exchange for cleaning.”

“Yeah, two sets of brakes for two weeks of cleaning up the shop. It’s one of the standard trades for people who need a break, no pun intended.”

A flicker of abashment crossed his face but was quickly replaced with scorn. “You guys can’t seriously expect Serpents to follow through on that.”

“If anyone fails to live up to their word, they end up with a black eye and another Serpent shows up to fulfill it. It always gets paid.”

“When are you going to wake up and realize that the Serpents are trash? You think they’re good people, but I thought you’d have realized with Sweet Pea,” his mouth curling derisively over the name, “he was obviously just interested in getting some. But then I guess you’ve moved on to Fangs so…"

His remarks were angry, bitter, and once again she found herself being split to the core. Overprotective, developing crush—there was no excuse. Rage reared itself and Riley was prepared to let it reign.

“Just leave, Kieran.” Riley’s eyes burned, angry tears coursing down her face. She’d known he wasn’t fond of the Serpents, but this was ridiculous.  Kieran slammed the door on his way out, cracking the pane. Her fist pounded the counter as her dad walked through the door.

“Riles,” he started, worriedly, eyes shifting from the door to her. She just shook her head and explained what happened.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, looking at the part in her hand, “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, dad. It’s my thing to fix. I got it.” His eyes scanned over her, worriedly, but then he smiled and nodded.

“Alright, I’m going to put some cardboard over the door for now and then finish up in the garage. We’ll leave when you get back.”

The bells tinkled behind her as the door shut. The early October air was growing cooler by the day and Riley shudder as she headed towards the Wyrm. It was early enough in the day that the parking lot was nearly empty, but she still hesitated outside the worn door. She took a deep breath to center herself and pushed open the door. A few heads turned towards the sunlight, but lost interest just as quickly. Winding her way through the chairs, Riley approached the bartender.

“You ain’t 21,” he said, glaring down at her.

“I’m not here for alcohol,” she began, struggling not to roll her eyes. “I’m from Evan’s Garage. A Serpent came in about a half an hour ago … which based on your face, I’m guessing you’ve heard about already,” her face flushed, and she spoke a little quicker, “look, what that guy said is not the view of our shop, at all. He’s already been dealt with, but I wanted to give our customer his brakes, free of charge.” She slid the box across the bar, eyes downcast.

“Think you can bribe the Serpents,” the bartender growled.

“It’s not a bribe. It’s making things right,” Riley protested, looking up into his hard eyes.

“Don’t let Greaser give you a hard time, Riley.”

She turned to the speaker, surprised to see Fangs’ perched on a nearby stool. In her hurry to be in and out, she hadn’t noticed him. He was smiling at her, none of the hostility that Greaser exuded evident on his face. Relieved, she handed the part to him.

“Look, I don’t know who it was, but please let him know that we’re sorry that happened.”

Fangs nodded. “So, we forgive toolboy, you forgive my doubting you, and we go replace my tires?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Fogarty.”

Taglist:  @ella-full-of-secrets @my-ships-have-sunk @54fangirl@everheart12@inspiredbynewt @poolpartyingwithjaws@southsidesserpent @lynniev @karleedaniels27 @the-greatt-perhaps @lilybellsworld 

[bang-to-the-tan]

Stray Cat Strut

Chapter 2

Reader x OT7

► Faerie!AU

Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Mention of Death, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Faerie Mischevious Bullshit

↳ Summary: When your grandmother passes away, she leaves her countryside house in your name. The longer you stay, the harder and harder it becomes to explain away the odd happenings. What kind of secrets does this sleepy town hold? And why do the local animals act so strangely around you?…

Previous     Masterlist          Next

So maybe you should find a map to the hunting goods store. Or else, find someone to ask about it. Getting lost is one thing, but giving up is entirely out of the question. You can’t just leave the local wildlife to chew through your grandmother’s house. There are old signs posted up at every other road or so that indicate the direction of the local library, and it seems as good a place to start as any.

The town around you is so quiet, so peaceful, you find yourself understanding why granny decided to stay here as you walk. The roads aren’t perfect—some of the side walkways are narrow and made of stone—and some of the buildings look fit to fall apart, but there’s a charm in the air. A kind of comfortableness that you could seriously get used to. Clothes strung up to dry, hanging in the spaces between pastel-colored houses. Gardens overflowing with long grass and sweet flowers waving lazily. Windowsills crawling with ivy. The whole town seems to inhale with the breeze, warming itself in the sunlight.

You’re suddenly struck by familiarity at an intersection on your way to the library and you pause to read the sign, noting the street name. Ah. That’s why you recognize this place. Down this path to the right, through the foliage…it’s where your grandmother was married. For a few seconds, you hesitate, but eventually decide to take a short detour. After all, the library isn’t going anywhere.

The road goes from concrete to cobblestone to dirt beneath your feet as you walk forwards, noting the houses becoming fewer and fewer, the trees overhead becoming denser. The light dapples as it dances across your skin, the dead leaves curling over the edges of the path. It smells fresh, sweet, like green vegetation. You turn a corner past a particularly large tree and can just make out the bridge you’d seen in old photographs all your life. But as you get closer, your heart sinks. The weeds by the pond the tree cranes over are overgrown. The path uncared for. Moss devours the railings and eats away at the wood underneath, making it almost impossible to discern what colors it was once painted. You finally come to rest at the mouth of the bridge, looking over the edge, down at the murky water below forlornly. Even your reflection is hard to see. You turn back, straightening, and start faintly when you notice a figure standing there, just out of the reach of the shade from a nearby willow that bends its head to the water, lent a halo from the rays outlining his form. Somehow you must have missed his approach, but looking at him, you’re not sure how.

 He’s incredibly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged. A draft of wind sifts through the sunny sections of soft mocha hair that caress his face, almond-shaped eyes pensive as he watches the pond like someone in mourning. He’s entirely bewitching, even as he blinks slowly and turns to look at you. His lips are plump, the color of rose petals and just as delicately shaped. When he smiles bitterly, your heart breaks.

“Sad, isn’t it?” He says. He gestures around you with a hand, resuming his position leaning against the rail. His head shakes once, as if in disbelief, and he sighs. “I think so, too.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You can’t think straight. It’s the first time you’ve ever been struck wordless by someone’s beauty. “I’ve seen old photos of this place. When it was taken care of.”

“There’s no one to take care of it,” he replies quickly. “No one left. It was beautiful once.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man nods.

“Does…” You begin, haltingly. “I mean, there’s gotta be someone who still cares? Back home, we had like a community fund..for…”

He shifts to regard you again, lips curling softly.

“For uh. Community projects.” The words are sticking in your throat, your mind fogging. The intensity of the way he listens to you so closely is unnerving. “Like…revivals and stuff.”

“That would be nice.” He replies. “But nobody comes up here anymore. The locals are afraid of it.”

“Afraid?”

“They think it’s haunted.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not haunted….is it?”

He stares at you, eyes widening. His lips part, as though to speak, but they smooth into a grin instead, creasing his eyes. Suddenly, he bends and starts to laugh. The sound is infectious, high-pitched and breathless, and you find yourself smiling along.

“Depends on your definition of ‘haunted’, I suppose,” he says finally, giggling. He cocks his head.

“My name is Seokjin.”

“Have you lived here long, Seokjin?”

“Just Jin. Please. I’ve lived here for a long while.” Jin’s gaze goes distant. “A very long while. It hurts my heart to see the place falling apart like this. It’s very important to me.”

 Your teeth worry the inside of your lip in the pause that follows, unsure whether you should say what you’re thinking. You can’t spend too much longer here—you still have to make it to the library and then back home before it gets dark.

“I’m new here, and I’m going someplace at the moment,” you explain, inwardly hoping he’s not secretly a murderer. “But my grandmother got married at this pond. She passed away not too long ago and I’m trying to clean her house out for now. It would mean a lot to me to see the pond clean, too--before I leave. If there was anything I could do to help…” You trail off, embarrassed.

The man watches you carefully, a smile pulling at his lips. As gentle as his voice is, as sweet his eyes, his stature doesn’t escape you. He looks strong.

“I-I, uh,” you begin again, the click in your head nearly audible, “I actually need help with the shed.”

“The shed?” he echoes.

“Yeah, there’s like, heavy stuff in it. I don’t think I can move it on my own. You know, you help me, I help you…? If that’s okay. I understand if not.”

Jin straightens.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, eyes alight. “I will help you clean your grandmother’s shed if you’ll help me clean the pond. Our deal will be fulfilled when both tasks are done. Sound good?”

“Sounds good…yeah! Sounds good.” You nod.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

He makes a tsk noise through his teeth, leaning back and curling his hands around the rail in front of him. For a second, you’re afraid you might have bartered with the wrong person, but he looks pleasantly, warmly pleased at your offer.

“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft as silk. “Just meet me here?”

“I can do that.” Not like you’ve got somewhere else to go.

“Good. I’m so glad.” The young man in front of you looks like you’ve just added ten years to his lifespan, practically glowing as he grins with perfect teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jin,” you reply. You turn away and make your way back to the main road. While you slowly return to civilization, your thoughts steadily turn inwards and you realize what you’ve just done. Who are you, making deals with strangers in strange towns?? The only excuse you can offer yourself is that he was so incredibly beautiful. And so sad. He seemed nice enough, though. Legitimately interested in cleaning the pond, if nothing else. You chastise yourself the whole way down to the library. Day two in this town and you probably just agreed to be murdered out in the middle of nowhere because you saw a pretty man. Shameful.

It’s impossible to deny that you want to see him again, though. And cleaning the place where she got married would have meant a lot to your grandmother, if she was here still. If she was watching. She won’t let you get murdered. You hope.

 As you turn the corner, past the intersection you originally turned down, the library rises from the horizon. It’s more welcoming than threatening even with its grand height, old stonework mixed with newer additions to keep the building stable and crawling with picturesque ivy. Absently, you slide your hand over the chipped mane of the stone lion that protects the entrance as you climb the stairs and step inside. It’s cool here, and designed with a touch that seems to meld modern and antique styles seamlessly. It smells like old books and wood polish—old, but well taken care of. Towards the back, twin staircases spiral, reaching for a circular window that casts an impressive amount of patterned light over the upper level. You have to resist the urge to take photos like some gawking tourist, and instead head for the section marked ‘Local’. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, the tall room silent as the grave. If anything, the quiet only helps you focus on the task at hand, browsing with a gentle hand through tour guides and maps of the surrounding areas.

There’s no staff, no music, nothing but you.

You’re too easily distracted by your thoughts and you end up getting frustrated by the sheer amount of maps. Comparing them against the version you have on your phone, there are always missing streets or roads that lead to nowhere—sections marked on the maps as incredibly important sightseeing destinations that aren’t even on the electronic version. Finally, you peel away from the local section, holding onto the one map you could find that seemed remotely useful, if still missing a few pieces of information. Just to the right of the doors is a wooden desk and ontop of it, a bell. You stride over and strike it, the peal ringing out clearly against the tall ceiling. At this point, you’re just hoping to catch a glimpse of literally any kind of living soul inside this building.

 “You’re back.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice that instantly sounds from behind you.

When you turn around, you meet deep brown eyes set into a handsome face whose mild expression is difficult to read. A young man stands only about a foot away from you, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the absolute silence of his approach. Did you somehow miss him on your way in…? Hair dyed a lavender color, pushed back from his forehead, thick-framed glasses, comfortable-looking sweater—if there was ever a look that screamed ‘librarian’ any louder, you’d be hard-pressed to find it.

“I’m…what?”

He watches you past his glasses for a moment before his soft lips pull into a wry smile and his shoulders drop. “Sorry. I-I know it’s probably been a while. I…know your, um, your grandmother,” He gestures, awkwardly. “The house on the hill, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. That’s her,” you finally manage to reply. Damn it, he’s incredibly handsome, too. Should you hand him your credit card now or should you wait until you lose all of your good sense? “Yeah, um. She…y’know, she passed away, so I’m cleaning her house out.”

He blinks, his face falling.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. That must be…hard for you,” he mumbles, but there’s something new in his expression. Was he close to her…? The ensuing silence between you is mortally uncomfortable.

 “I-I’m looking for a map,” you stammer, holding up your hand. “Y’know, a recent one.”

“…You seem to have found one.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at the paper grasped in your fingers. “Anything more specific?”

“I need hunting goods. My phone says there’s a store just on the other side of the house, but when I tried to cut through the woods, I got lost.”

The man nods, slowly, thoughtfully. He looks to you and there’s a second of silence between you as you subtly try to figure out what exact shade of brown his soft eyes are. Flush travels up your cheeks as you’re struck with the realization that he’s waiting for you to elaborate. Humour suddenly flashes across his face, breaking the quiet, and he laughs sharply, leaning forwards.

“Directions for a hunting store?” he reiterates through a chuckle. “Kind of a weird first request. The map you’ve got there is the most recent we have. Just follow the main road through the forest.” He pauses. “What do you need it for, anyways?”

“There’s something chewing holes in my grandmother’s house.”

“Ah,” his eyebrows slide upwards, legitimately shocked. He waits, seemingly unsure if you’re serious, before continuing. “And you’re thinking…animals…?”

“Yeah. I already tried to set out a trap but it broke. Something put rocks in it.”

He hums. His head cocks to the side and he tsks through his teeth, pursing his lips and studying the ground as he crosses his arms. “An animal didn’t put rocks in it. I’m surprised you don’t know better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say ‘chewing holes’,” he asks instead of answering, “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s a hole in the porch. It was filled with candy when I moved in.”

“And you…?”

You frown. “I…” you repeat slowly. “Took the candy out and filled the hole? I mean, not very well, but—“

“Mm. Yeah, that’ll do it. You need to put the sweets back.”

It’s your turn to wait, for him to admit to joking. He only looks to you and blinks slowly, patiently. There’s another heavy pause. As you stare at him, his shoulders rise in a shrug.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to encourage animals boring into the house my dead grandmother lived in?” Your voice escalates as your brows crease, searching his visage for any sign of giving.

“It’s not an animal.”

“Oh my god.” Despair begins sinking in. Your mind swims with the thought of malicious children. “It’s kids. I can’t set traps. Oh, god, what if I accidentally hurt one?...”

He barks another laugh, his eyes scrunching, shoulders shaking.

“What??”

“It’s not children, either,” he says, still giggling.

Your frown only deepens. Is he making fun of you? “I don’t get it. What exactly are you suggesting?”

 His laughter subsides into a short chuckle. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a strange light in them. “You don’t remember much, do you?”

You pull back, somewhat offended. “I was like five the last time I was here?”

He chuckles and pushes his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose with a dramatic air of a teacher getting ready for his least favorite class. “Okay. Alright. From the top, then. Have you heard of faeries?”

“Like fairy tales? Of course I’ve heard of them.”

“Almost. Okay, so most old towns have their own superstitions, right? We have our own kind of faerie. They’re called Keprys. And that’s what you’re dealing with.”

You stare at him incredulously, but he doesn’t look like he’s kidding. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can,” he retorts. “I bet there was something in the house that was really well taken-care of when you got here. Floors swept, cabinets dusted, something like that?”

You think of the dust-covered rooms. “No, not really.”

“Look for it. Whatever it is won’t be done now. Put the candy back, it’ll start up again. Your grandmother had an accord with a Kepry—sweets in exchange for some chore she couldn’t do or didn’t want to do.” He leans against the bookshelf and raises an eyebrow at you. “When you took the candy, you disrupted the agreement. When you put out the trap, you insulted him.”

“Him?”

He ignores you.

“If you leave it alone, or worse, get another trap, it’ll only go downhill from there. He’ll trash the house. If he’s in a good mood.”

Your eyes narrow, your lips pursing. “If this is some kind of local hazing, I’m not into it. I’m not convinced I’m staying, anyways; you’re wasting your time trying to spook me.”

“I swear, I’m being totally legitimate.” He raises his hands, palms facing outwards. “Put the candy back.”

You hesitate, watching him doubtfully. “Okay, smart guy. We’re in a library, so…show me a source. Where’s your books on capris?”

“Kepry.” He clarifies with a slow intonation. “K-e-p-r-y. There’s only one source.”

“If you say it’s you—“

“—But it’s already checked out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To me.”

“To you??”

The man’s eyes flash and his grin returns.

“Tell you what,” He straightens. “I’ll loan you the book. But only if you bring me something of value.”

“I don’t have anything with me.”

He shrugs, pouting mockingly. Without a proper reply, he turns around and starts walking away.

“Why don’t you just give me the book? Isn’t this a library? You’re the librarian—it’s your job, isn’t it??” You call after him, incredulous at his sudden lack of manners.

“I answered your question and gave you free advice.” He spins smartly on his heel to disappear behind a bookcase across the way from you. “You’re in my debt, granddaughter of the lady on the hill.” His voice seems to echo after you from every direction. Strange, you wouldn’t consider the library as that acoustic-capable, at least not from where he was standing.

You huff, and go to follow him. “What do you mean debt—“ You pull up short as you round the corner.

He’s not there. There’s no sign of him behind the books. No sound of him anywhere.

“Hey!” You call out. No answer. The library has returned to its stifling silence. If he thinks you’re gonna waste a second playing hide and seek with him, he’s dead wrong. You stomp your foot and turn on a dime to leave, grumbling about librarians and faeries. ‘Keprys’. He had to have been kidding. Faeries aren’t real. Briefly, you think about the bird from the forest but easily shake it out of your head. You were panicking, lost in a foreign town and scared. Jet-lagged still, probably.

A car passes by the outside of the library as you exit and you’re actually surprised enough by its presence to stop and watch it go. It’s only about the second or third car you’ve seen since coming here. It’s going so slowly—the cobbles must be making the driver unsteady. You move to step behind it, your attention already drifting elsewhere, back to the house and the predicament of animals/not animals boring holes into it. Maybe you have some cash you can give him for the book on faeries anyways. Just for curiosity’s sake.

You’re almost home as you’re lost in thought trying to mentally count up how much money you have to give the librarian for the book. You can see the house now, up on its little hill, with the sparse cottages and small streets that surround it. It’s only just now starting to get late, and the threatening sunset casts a warm blush over everything, turns the shadows into a comfortable purple.

Across the street, not too far from where you are, your attention is claimed by a tiny dog. It’s a fluffy little thing, looking like a ball of soot with legs, black and brown all over. The fading sunlight catches its fur and lights embers in its outline, like a spotlight. You have to stifle a giggle at how business-like it seems, trotting along with such delicate little paws. It turns to survey its surroundings and you could mark the moment when it spots you, pausing with its fluff of a tail pointed skywards midway through a wag. Suddenly, it breaks into a run towards you. Head thrown back in excitement, yipping all the way. You start, but it means you no harm as it runs straight up to your legs and yaps loudly, dancing around your feet so intensely that its whole body actually leaves the ground for seconds at a time.

“Hello, hello!” You greet, delighted if a little surprised. It presses its head against your hand when you lean to pet it, barking and yipping. You oblige, running your fingers through incredibly soft fur, and its whole body stills. Its watery eyes blink slowly, as if savoring the touch. “Who do you belong to?”

It yips and bounces again, spinning in a tight circle, and you can’t help but laugh at the pure joy in the motion. You pet it a few more times, giggling at how eager it seems for affection. “Nobody ever loves you, huh?” You coo. “Poor baby.” After a while, you straighten, and it immediately starts barking again, rising in volume as you move to walk towards the house.

“I have to go home!” You chastise, reaching to stroke it again, but its pitiful noises only get louder. “I’ll see you later, puppy. I promise.”

It follows you up the hill, whimpering pathetically as you unlock the gate and walk inside. You look over your shoulder at it and it cries.

“Go home,” you encourage. “I’ll see you later.”

It sits down in front of the gate, looking at you with such a forlorn expression your heart breaks. You hope its okay, but it seems healthy enough; shiny eyes and coat, well-groomed. Eventually, it’ll go home, surely.

You turn back to the house, the garden catching your eye as you go. Looks like it needs some watering—maybe a little weeding here and there. Why haven’t you noticed since you’ve been here? Oh well. You guess there’s been other things more pressing in your mind. Like getting lost and meeting beautiful men. And the stray cat, can’t forget that. Oh, yeah. The sticks. Your hand flies up to the bag around your neck, rubbing at the remaining stick with a shocked realization. You forgot to look up what kind of wood it was. Maybe you’ll remember tomorrow? You can always ask the mysterious librarian or the man by the pond. He might know a thing or two about local plants. Better ask nice, forthcoming Jin about something like that instead of stingy, disappearing librarian man.

Oh.

You blink.

You never actually caught his name.

Your nose wrinkles as you frown, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. He’d probably charge you for that, too.

Previous    Masterlist          Next

[littlepeachwhispers]

Civilian - Chapter 1: Darkness

Previous Chapter: Prologue Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader Summary: When you accidentally stumble onto Sanctuary territory, Negan takes you prisoner to ensure your arrival is purely coincidental. When no one from your group shows up, you end up becoming a citizen of the sanctuary and realizing just how dark your new leader truly is. 

Chapter Warnings: isolation

Story Warnings: violence, gore, smut, slow burn, isolation, dark themes

Available on AO3 if you prefer to read there. A/N: I apologize truly for such a long time gap between updates. I’ve been dealing with holiday stuff lately, and I work 12-hour shifts at night. I have quite a bit planned for this fic, but this chapter just really seemed like the reader was rambling a lot to depict her time in the cell. I apologize in advance that it’s a bit boring and there’s not as much of our favorite villain as we all would like. Also, I forgot to mention the fic is inspired by Wye Oak’s song “Civilian.” I listened to it on repeat, it just has an intense apocalypse feel to me.

Chapter 1: Darkness

The darkness wasn’t terrible at first. Spending most of every day in the scalding Virginian sun actually made you feel calmer in the dark, and this cell was no exception - after the impending panic attack had subsided, of course. You could still feel your heart beating steadily, your respirations coming at a quickened pace still yet. But after a few hours, the initial panic was fading. You were safe from walkers here. There was only one exit. You didn’t have to face the dangers of scavenging or being outside unprotected. Your fear was no longer sourced from your solitude; now it came from the thoughts of what would happen after your time here. Would that man, Negan, kill you on the spot? Would he let you leave? You thought again about how lean he was and how easy it would have been for any of his followers to take power from him. Why did they follow the older man so loyally? Were there any more followers you’d yet to see?

Questions built up in your mind that might not ever be answered, and in an attempt to distract yourself, you began to count the seconds - and then minutes - ticking by. Sixty seconds. One minute, two minutes, five, ten, fifteen. You stopped when you got to twenty-three, deciding that counting time was making you anxious all over again. You lost track of how much time you had spent in the cell. It felt like days, but no one had brought you anything so you knew that couldn’t be the case. You slid yourself down into the floor, your cheek resting on the frigid concrete, so that you could peak outside from the small slit of light under the door. You were disappointed as your eyes met with another concrete wall across the corridor. You knew what the place looked like before you had been confined to the cell, so you weren’t sure what you were expecting to see. Feet maybe, but with the amount of locks you were willing to bet were on the door, there was likely no need to guard you so closely. You were definitely alone.

You turned onto your back and attempted to fall asleep several times, but anxiety and worry tormented you, making it impossible to relax. You finally settled your back into the corner, facing the door and waiting. You wondered if anyone from your community would come looking for you. What would Negan and his followers do to them if they did? You vividly remembered the barbed wire glistening in the sunlight, wrapped tightly around his bat. It was ominous, certainly, but maybe just an intimidation tactic. Surely he would question your people before acting.

What worried you most was how you’d landed yourself in a cell over something as insignificant as the location of their community. Negan had said something about information, and that had sparked your curiosity. Maybe this group had a doctor or scientist that had vital knowledge about what had caused the dead to walk. You knew it was only wishful thinking, but a part of you had always held onto the possibility of a cure or antidote. Not having to see anyone else die or rot away to this damned disease? That would be all you could ever hope for. Before the end of the world, you had been a nurse. Wanting to help people had become second nature to you; it was what you were good at. When hell broke loose and you managed to escape the hospital you’d worked in, you holed up in your hometown for quite some time, collecting medical supplies and patching up people who’d been hurt. When your supplies dwindled down and most of your friends had departed to find their own families, you had been forced to leave for somewhere safer, with more supplies and food sources. Stumbling into a couple of kind people had been sheer luck, and you’d been with them ever since. Your role in your community was similar to your job before; you’d put dressings on everyone’s injuries, make sure they were eating okay, give what medicines you could, and monitor people feeling unwell mentally or physically. It’s what your mind kept lingering on: you could be killed or kept here, and that meant the people back home were going without medical care.

You barely noticed the sound of heavy, slow footsteps, before a voice cried out, “WHEN I GET OUT, I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU.” Huffing breaths and then a shrill yell kicked you out of your thoughts; a man’s voice a couple cells down, it sounded like.

With that, your calm demeanor disappeared. You felt yourself shiver at the echo of his deep voice against the steel and concrete corridor. He started to punch the door with his fists; flat, hard beats of flesh against the hard surface permeated the air, making you feel queasy. Your sanity was already stretched thin, a tightrope you’d been desperately clinging to balance on since you’d lost your group. Another man began shouting and you realized you were surrounded by prisoners, mad ones judging by the sound of their clamoring. Whoever’s footsteps triggered the men’s outburst began to grow louder. You expected to hear Negan’s dark timbre, but it was Simon’s loud voice that rang out.

“You all had better pipe the fuck down. I’d hate to have to tell Negan there’s an uprising in the holding cells.” At the mention of Negan, the yells quietened into mumbles, and then silence. Simon’s boots grew louder still, and you scooted yourself up, as close to the walls in the corner as you could physically get. Three audible locks clicked before light flooded the cell, burning your vision. You raised your hands up to shade your face, shielding your eyes from the brightness. Simon knelt down in the doorway and addressed you, his voice quickly transformed from crass to serene.

“Okay, Doll. It’s been decided that your group isn’t coming for you, since it’s nightfall already and they would have to be suicidal or just plain stupid to go out in the dark.” Your mouth was dry and your voice scratchy, but you’d managed to speak up, “I told you. I’m not trying to pull anything. I’ve never heard of this community.”

Simon nodded, “I know. But Negan’s got a lot of responsibility to keep the people here safe. And he doesn’t trust easily. None of us do. But he does have a soft spot for women. So I’ve been instructed to take you to the regular living quarters and make you a bit more comfortable. Let you get a few solid hours of sleep. Then he’ll talk with you and decide what happens next in the morning.”

Out of all the scenarios you’d imagined in your head - being beaten to death, thrown out into the darkness to become walker food, kept here until you rotted away - this had not been one of them.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Simon laughed, “No. We might not be conventionally nice people, who is these days? But we aren’t evil either. Come on.”

He held a hand out to you and you hesitated. Should you really trust this man? You once again decided you didn’t have any other option at this point, and being anywhere other than this cell sounded great. If this was a trick or he was leading you to your death, at least you’d know soon. He helped you to stand; your legs shaky from lack of use all day. Once you had your balance, he pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt. “Sorry, kid.” He motioned for you to turn around.

You didn’t put up a fight, and let him handcuff your hands behind your back.

After your hands were secure, you walked alongside him, back out the way you’d come, and up a flight of industrial metal stairs. He led you down another hallway and through a pair of double doors, into what seemed to be an indoor flea market. There were various vendors, selling everything and anything imaginable. As you walked beside him, Simon continued explaining.

“This is our marketplace. Most of our people live on a system of points. Scavenging, going on missions, working, doing favors for Negan, all of that earns points. You can barter belongings, or use your points to buy things. Various foodstuffs, handmade clothes or blankets, weapons, room items, jewelry. It’s endless.”

Simon picked up a black crocheted blanket, a tank top, knitted shorts, a pair of dark jeans, a black tee shirt, and a few small soap bars as he walked you around the huge room. When he reached an end table near the door, a woman in a teal headscarf sat with a few notebooks and pens, holding one of the writing utensils out for him.

“Our form of “paying” for our goods,” he explained. When the woman looked up to see that it was Simon, she scribbled in the book herself and gave him a small smile before the two of you left the pay table.

Your curious expression did not go unnoticed by Simon, and he explained as he came to a stop. “A select few of us are exempt from the point system. We still have other rules to follow of course, but a few perks aren’t bad.”

You nodded, mentally questioning what an individual had to do to be an exception to the point system. You weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

As you and Simon approached the same set of doors you’d entered moments ago, you noticed a woman leaning against the panelling, her arms crossed. Simon motioned her over and she pulled herself away from the wall, making her way over to you. She had her hair twisted into a blonde bun, a obsidian-toned tattoo contrasting the ivory skin on her neck, and a golden hoop nose ring on the left side of her nose.

“This is Laura.” Simon introduced her. You told her your name as well, out of respect, and she nodded.

“Laura’s going to give you the rest of the tour and make sure you get a hot shower and some food.” Food was great, but the thought of hot water was better. You were sure running hot water was a luxury of the past, something that would be a mere story to tell future generations. Remembering what it was like to come home after a long night at work, standing bare under a hot stream of water cascading over you; it made your muscles tremble at the thought.

“That sounds amazing. Hot water.”

Laura chuckled a bit at your reaction. “Oh, trust me it is.”

Simon handed the items he’d bought to Laura, and clapped his hand on your shoulder. “I have to get going, but Laura will take good care of you. See you tomorrow.”

His touch made you flinch. Hours earlier, you’d watched their leader swing his bat around, threatening you. Fellow community members pointed guns and knives of all imaginable varieties at you, they’d shoved you into a cell like you’d murdered a handful of small children, and now he was fucking Mr. Rogers-level friendly. You felt the aforementioned tightrope of sanity you were still balancing on shrinking thinner.

Laura showed you a few more essential areas of the community; the latrines, the showers, the cafeteria, and a few of the living quarters. She’d said that was all she was permitted to show you for now, and when she offered for you to finally go grab a shower, she followed you. Not into the stall, thank God, but she removed your handcuffs and stood right outside, preventing you from escaping or wandering off on your own. As you stood under the near-scalding spray of water, you contemplated everything that had happened so far. These people seemed nice enough; after the threats, the barbed-wire bat, and the cell. They weren’t torturing or raping or slicing you to pieces. You hadn’t seen any vendors selling human body parts for soup. But it was blatantly obvious that they still didn’t trust you. And maybe it was wrong, but that just made you want to investigate this place further. There was bound to be something shady going on, or something of utmost importance that needed protecting. Simon had said it himself; Negan had a huge responsibility to protect the Sanctuary. And you couldn’t help but linger on why.

After you finally left the shower, Laura escorted you to the cafeteria and sat with you as you ate your meal; a leafy green salad and a marinara-smothered pasta that you couldn’t remember the name of. Cellentani? Cavatappi maybe? It didn’t matter now. Pasta was easy to make in large quantities and it had been one of your favorite meals before the end had come; you weren’t going to complain about it. You didn’t know if you were hungry or if the food was just incredible, but it made your mouth water and you didn’t think you could eat another bite once you had finished. Laura tried to make small talk, and you hadn’t been rude, but stuffing your face with pasta made it surprisingly difficult to carry on a conversation.

The place wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been at the marketplace, and you surmised that it was getting late. Candles and low-energy lamps lit the corridors now, as the sun was absent in all of the large windows. The main area with the stairwells had previously been brightly shining with abundant amounts of sun whenever the men had brought you to your cell. Laura had recuffed you and led you through the dimly-lit halls to one of the living quarter rooms. It held two bunk beds, a full-size bed, and two floor cots. Three of the bunks were taken, and there were two people asleep in the full sized bed. Laura took your cuffs off again, handed you the items from earlier, and pointed to one of the floor cots and the small cubby area near the doorway you were currently standing in.

“Your stuff will be safe here. Try to get some sleep. Who knows what Negan will decide for you tomorrow.” You could tell she wasn’t trying to intimidate you on purpose, she seemed like a blunt, matter-of-fact kind of person. It still bothered you nonetheless.

When you changed into the tank top and shorts Simon had given you, stored your few belongings away, and started to try to get comfortable in the floor, you noticed Laura kept standing.

“You aren’t sleeping?” You asked, hushed so as not to wake anyone.

Grinning, she whispered, “I’m on guard duty for another four hours.”

She stepped outside the door, leaning against the wall outside of your room. They truly didn’t trust you not to escape. You didn’t really fault them for that though, because if given the opportunity, you couldn’t truthfully say you wouldn’t at least attempt to leave. Covering yourself up with the blanket Simon had given you, you adjusted onto your stomach and attempted to fall to sleep. Tomorrow morning was a mystery looming over your head like a storm cloud. You could be thrown out, defenseless. You could be kept captive. Hell, Negan could have you shot or stabbed to death by his bandwagon of followers. The worries were endless and daunting. What if someone back home was sick or injured and needed you? Would the group be out looking for you in the dark? They had more sense than that. You’d hoped so, at least. Would they think you left on purpose? Maybe they would be angry with you. Maybe no one would ever come looking for you. The nurse who left them all without any medical support, left them to die. You groaned, pulling your arms up over your head and ears, attempting to drown out the sounds of your own suffocating thoughts. After about fifteen minutes, the exhaustion in your bones finally caught up to you, and although your relentless thoughts never ceased to bombard your mind, you finally dozed off.

“Get up.” Unsure of exactly how much sleep you’d managed to get, you were suddenly being shaken awake. It wasn’t Laura standing above you this time; it was a man you recognized from your encounter early the day before. You couldn’t remember where he’d been standing, but he’d been pointing a weapon at you, that part was vibrant in your mind. You sat up, wiping sleep from your eyes and pushing your still-damp hair out of your face.

“Is something wrong?” It had to be early. Looking beyond him and into the hallway, the lamps were still lit. The sun hadn’t risen yet. “...Negan wants to see you.” The thought of the older man made your stomach drop. This was it. Your entire future - how much longer you lived, if truth be told - dependant on a conversation you were seconds away from having. You stood and dressed in the jeans Simon had gifted you. Pulling your boots on, you left everything else in the cubby area. You stretched the sleep from your muscles before nodding to the man who’d interrupted your dreamless slumber. He cuffed you yet again, and turned to walk down the hallway, you following reluctantly on his heels. He didn’t speak at all, and you couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. The two of you walked up a second flight of stairs and down another corridor. Their distrust of you was good in one respect; with people escorting you everywhere, you couldn’t get lost. A likely possibility when every floor looked the same to you: all concrete and metal. The place reminded you of a prison, and it wasn’t just the cells on the bottom floor. The layout was all very similar. You assumed the building had been a mill or factory of some sort, but you had no clue as to what they would have made here.

Traversing one winding hallway after another, you finally arrived at your destination. The man you followed stood back as he opened a plain-looking door, the light eggshell paint on it chipping off at the edges. There was a long table in the middle of the room, and two lights hanging overhead, dimly lighting the place. Negan sat at the head of the table, in his same leather jacket from yesterday. His inky black hair was slicked back in perfect contrast to the surprisingly bright material of his white shirt. The bat was lying ominously on the table in front of him, and when you looked up to briefly meet his eyes, he was grinning at you.

“Long time, no see.” His voice echoed in the room and you could feel your heartbeats speeding up in your chest. The man who had led you here pushed you further into the room, before stepping in and closing the door behind himself. He approached Negan, holding out a key for what you guessed could only be your handcuffs. Negan palmed the tiny silver key, and the guard turned to leave. The door had quickly closed again, punctuating the fact that you were now utterly alone with the leader of the people who’d turned at least a dozen guns on you yesterday. Alone and at a disadvantage, the cuffs biting into the skin of your wrists as a reminder.

“So your people didn’t show up last night. What are we gonna do with you now?”

Read Chapter 2 here.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys. I’ll definitely update sooner than last time. And maybe even get myself on a weekly schedule? Happy Holidays, and remember comments/suggestions always welcome! 

Taglist:  @ohokaybyethen , @miiraal

[cardsvistas]

Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card

Walmart Set To Release Its Amazon Prime Competitor With A New Acclaim Agenda Coming Too

Cash Back Credit Cards | Chase | chase virtual credit card

In a claiming with Amazon, Walmart is accepted to bare its own associates arcade annual afterwards this month. Dubbed Walmart Plus (Walmart ), the superstore banker is action head-to-head with Amazon and its abiding Prime offering. Walmart will reportedly introduce a Walmart branded acclaim card, but it won’t be appear as anon as Walmart launches. [The Credibility Guy]

Walmart is reportedly authoritative affairs to attempt anon with Amazon Prime

How Covid-19 Is Accelerating The Shift To A Cashless Society

The coronavirus communicable has accelerated the trend against a cashless economy, buoyed by the beforehand of e-commerce and the abhorrence of administration cardboard money attenuated with Covid-19. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention encouraged the use of touchless acquittal options, aback available. Cash withdrawals from ATMs plunged 25% civic during the aboriginal weeks of the pandemic. [Philadelphia Enquirer]

Mastercard Launches Shop Openings Tool That Allows Barter To Identify Nearby Aliment That Are Open

Apple Card vs | chase virtual credit card

Businesses are starting to reopen afterwards months of quarantine, but it’s adamantine to apperceive which aliment are aperture their doors to barter after calling or analytic online. To accomplish the chase action easier, Mastercard partnered with abstracts assay company Sixth Sense to barrage ShopOpenings.com, which allows you to affirm which aliment and businesses are accessible to barter and if they accept contactless payments. [CNBC]

Chase Marriott Acclaim Cards Add Benefit Credibility At Restaurants and Gas Stations

Marriott Hotels added two new limited-time benefit categories to its Chase-issued acclaim cards, continuing the trend of biking companies abacus acting appearance to their accolade cards in adjustment to beforehand their amount during the coronavirus pandemic. From July 15 through Sept. 15, Chase Marriott agenda holders can acquire 10 credibility for every dollar spent at gas stations and restaurants, including acceptable aliment commitment services. The benefit credibility are capped at $3,500 in purchases beyond the two categories. [CNN]

Hyatt Adds 25% Abatement On Credibility Redeemed By Its Acclaim Agenda Holders

If you’re planning to use your hard-earned World of Hyatt credibility at a Hyatt acreage in the abreast future, you’re in luck. Hyatt aloof launched a advantageous beforehand alms up to a 25% abatement aback you redeem credibility for a chargeless night break through Oct. 8, 2020. While all World of Hyatt adherence associates will accept a 15% rebate, those who currently accept the World of Hyatt Acclaim Card or the earlier Hyatt Acclaim Agenda will accept an added 10% abatement for a absolute of 25% aback in points. [CNN]

Help Australia’s Wildfire Victims With Your Next Workout by .. | chase virtual credit card

Treasury’s Debit Debacle

Millions of American are still cat-and-mouse for the $1,200 federal bang analysis promised them as allotment of the CARES Act accustomed aback in March. Bags may accept befuddled abroad the acquittal and not alike accomplished it back the IRS autonomous to accelerate prepaid debit cards to about two actor taxpayers rather than cardboard checks. Unfortunately, the IRS never abreast those recipients in beforehand that a debit agenda would be mailed to them and now estimates that bags may accept befuddled them abroad cerebration it was a scam. [Toledo Blade]

How Basic Agenda Numbers Can Advice Prevent Acclaim Agenda Phishing Scams

A basic agenda cardinal is a agenda archetype of your acclaim agenda with a randomly-generated cardinal that links to your annual aback you accomplish online purchases. This creates an airy absorber amid bad actors and your absolute agenda number, making credit agenda fraud harder to cull off. Right now, there are alone two agenda issuers that action basic agenda numbers: Basic One COF and Citi. [CNBC]

80% Of Mobile’s Amount In Concrete Appurtenances And Services

Chase Sapphire vs | chase virtual credit card

Apple AAPL ’s app ecosystem enabled $519 billion in bartering action in 2019. Alone $61 billion of that was agenda appurtenances and services, like games, e-books, and apps, and $45 billion of it was in-app advertising. The lion’s share, $413 billion, was concrete appurtenances and services. And 54% of that was China. [Forbes]

Many Consumers Enrolled in Covid-19 Acquittal Modification Programs Find Their Acclaim Files Erroneously Tarnished

To advice their barter break financially afloat during the Covid-19 crisis, abounding lenders offered acquittal modification programs that accustomed them to accomplish bargain payments or skip payments altogether, after damaging their acclaim histories. But back March, added than 650 consumers accept complained to the CFPB that their lender accepted them acquittal accommodations, but still appear their accounts as delinquent. As a result, their acclaim array accept tanked. [Consumers’ Checkbook]

Mastercard’s ‘Priceless Experiences’ Leverages Golf Champions For Basic Events

Digital Priceless Experiences include a basic Top Golf challenge in which cast ambassadors Justin Rose and Graeme McDowell faced off at the game’s Pebble Beach Golf Links course. Mastercard acclimated the World Golf Tour basic bold to advertise the players’ prowess, with in-game branding and affable badinage amid the players. Added activities on the belvedere accommodate a agenda golf assignment with Annika Sörenstam, a knuckleball assignment with above Red Sox bullpen Tim Wakefield and an calm affable assignment with chef Bryan Voltaggio. [Chief Marketer]

Best Chase Credit Cards for July 10 – chase virtual credit card | chase virtual credit card

How Small Businesses Rethink Bartering Agenda Versatility

Commercial acclaim cards are historically beheld as a acquittal agent for businesses to accomplish one-off purchases for the appointment or while on a business trip. Added recently, bartering agenda innovators accept explored opportunities to accretion absorption in added spending categories, with accounts payable and supplier accepting now accepted targets for B2B FinTechs attractive to arm businesses with a way to pay invoices after compromising admired alive basic float. [PYMNTS]

Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card – chase virtual credit card | Allowed in order to my personal blog, on this moment I am going to teach you with regards to keyword. And from now on, this can be a very first image:

chase sapphire virtual credit card number لم يسبق له مثيل الصور + .. | chase virtual credit card

What about picture earlier mentioned? is actually of which amazing???. if you think so, I’l m explain to you several photograph once again beneath:

So, if you’d like to obtain all of these magnificent images related to (Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card), just click save button to store these images in your laptop. They’re ready for obtain, if you’d prefer and want to have it, click save badge in the article, and it’ll be directly saved to your laptop computer.} As a final point if you need to have new and latest graphic related with (Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card), please follow us on google plus or book mark this blog, we attempt our best to present you regular update with all new and fresh pictures. Hope you like staying here. For some upgrades and recent news about (Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card) pictures, please kindly follow us on tweets, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on book mark area, We try to present you update regularly with all new and fresh pics, enjoy your surfing, and find the ideal for you.

Here you are at our site, contentabove (Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card) published .  At this time we are excited to announce that we have found an extremelyinteresting nicheto be reviewed, that is (Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card) Most people trying to find details about(Five Chase Virtual Credit Card That Had Gone Way Too Far | chase virtual credit card) and certainly one of these is you, is not it?

A virtual credit card: how does it work? – kapakka | chase virtual credit card

Amazon Prime Rewards Visa Signature Card Review – CreditCards | chase virtual credit card

Apple Card benefits: What features you can and can’t get elsewhere .. | chase virtual credit card

From Sapphire Preferred to Freedom Unlimited, No Waiting .. | chase virtual credit card

from WordPress https://www.cardsvista.com/five-chase-virtual-credit-card-that-had-gone-way-too-far-chase-virtual-credit-card/ via IFTTT

[visawords]

9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card

Walmart Set To Release Its Amazon Prime Competitor With A New Acclaim Agenda Coming Too

Amazon.co | amazon credit card

In a claiming with Amazon, Walmart is accepted to bare its own associates arcade annual afterwards this month. Dubbed Walmart Plus (Walmart ), the superstore banker is action head-to-head with Amazon and its abiding Prime offering. Walmart will reportedly introduce a Walmart branded acclaim card, but it won’t be appear as anon as Walmart launches. [The Credibility Guy]

Walmart is reportedly authoritative affairs to attempt anon with Amazon Prime

How Covid-19 Is Accelerating The Shift To A Cashless Society

The coronavirus communicable has accelerated the trend against a cashless economy, buoyed by the beforehand of e-commerce and the abhorrence of administration cardboard money attenuated with Covid-19. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention encouraged the use of touchless acquittal options, aback available. Cash withdrawals from ATMs plunged 25% civic during the aboriginal weeks of the pandemic. [Philadelphia Enquirer]

Mastercard Launches Shop Openings Tool That Allows Barter To Identify Nearby Aliment That Are Open

The best credit cards for Amazon | Million Mile Secrets – amazon credit card | amazon credit card

Businesses are starting to reopen afterwards months of quarantine, but it’s adamantine to apperceive which aliment are aperture their doors to barter after calling or analytic online. To accomplish the chase action easier, Mastercard partnered with abstracts assay company Sixth Sense to barrage ShopOpenings.com, which allows you to affirm which aliment and businesses are accessible to barter and if they accept contactless payments. [CNBC]

Chase Marriott Acclaim Cards Add Benefit Credibility At Restaurants and Gas Stations

Marriott Hotels added two new limited-time benefit categories to its Chase-issued acclaim cards, continuing the trend of biking companies abacus acting appearance to their accolade cards in adjustment to beforehand their amount during the coronavirus pandemic. From July 15 through Sept. 15, Chase Marriott agenda holders can acquire 10 credibility for every dollar spent at gas stations and restaurants, including acceptable aliment commitment services. The benefit credibility are capped at $3,500 in purchases beyond the two categories. [CNN]

Hyatt Adds 25% Abatement On Credibility Redeemed By Its Acclaim Agenda Holders

If you’re planning to use your hard-earned World of Hyatt credibility at a Hyatt acreage in the abreast future, you’re in luck. Hyatt aloof launched a advantageous beforehand alms up to a 25% abatement aback you redeem credibility for a chargeless night break through Oct. 8, 2020. While all World of Hyatt adherence associates will accept a 15% rebate, those who currently accept the World of Hyatt Acclaim Card or the earlier Hyatt Acclaim Agenda will accept an added 10% abatement for a absolute of 25% aback in points. [CNN]

Buy AMAZON Fire HD 10 Tablet with Alexa (2017) – 32 GB .. | amazon credit card

Treasury’s Debit Debacle

Millions of American are still cat-and-mouse for the $1,200 federal bang analysis promised them as allotment of the CARES Act accustomed aback in March. Bags may accept befuddled abroad the acquittal and not alike accomplished it back the IRS autonomous to accelerate prepaid debit cards to about two actor taxpayers rather than cardboard checks. Unfortunately, the IRS never abreast those recipients in beforehand that a debit agenda would be mailed to them and now estimates that bags may accept befuddled them abroad cerebration it was a scam. [Toledo Blade]

How Basic Agenda Numbers Can Advice Prevent Acclaim Agenda Phishing Scams

A basic agenda cardinal is a agenda archetype of your acclaim agenda with a randomly-generated cardinal that links to your annual aback you accomplish online purchases. This creates an airy absorber amid bad actors and your absolute agenda number, making credit agenda fraud harder to cull off. Right now, there are alone two agenda issuers that action basic agenda numbers: Basic One COF and Citi. [CNBC]

80% Of Mobile’s Amount In Concrete Appurtenances And Services

Amazon Prime Credit Card Offers Great Rewards – DWYM – amazon credit card | amazon credit card

Apple AAPL ’s app ecosystem enabled $519 billion in bartering action in 2019. Alone $61 billion of that was agenda appurtenances and services, like games, e-books, and apps, and $45 billion of it was in-app advertising. The lion’s share, $413 billion, was concrete appurtenances and services. And 54% of that was China. [Forbes]

Many Consumers Enrolled in Covid-19 Acquittal Modification Programs Find Their Acclaim Files Erroneously Tarnished

To advice their barter break financially afloat during the Covid-19 crisis, abounding lenders offered acquittal modification programs that accustomed them to accomplish bargain payments or skip payments altogether, after damaging their acclaim histories. But back March, added than 650 consumers accept complained to the CFPB that their lender accepted them acquittal accommodations, but still appear their accounts as delinquent. As a result, their acclaim array accept tanked. [Consumers’ Checkbook]

Mastercard’s ‘Priceless Experiences’ Leverages Golf Champions For Basic Events

Digital Priceless Experiences include a basic Top Golf challenge in which cast ambassadors Justin Rose and Graeme McDowell faced off at the game’s Pebble Beach Golf Links course. Mastercard acclimated the World Golf Tour basic bold to advertise the players’ prowess, with in-game branding and affable badinage amid the players. Added activities on the belvedere accommodate a agenda golf assignment with Annika Sörenstam, a knuckleball assignment with above Red Sox bullpen Tim Wakefield and an calm affable assignment with chef Bryan Voltaggio. [Chief Marketer]

Amazon | amazon credit card

How Small Businesses Rethink Bartering Agenda Versatility

Commercial acclaim cards are historically beheld as a acquittal agent for businesses to accomplish one-off purchases for the appointment or while on a business trip. Added recently, bartering agenda innovators accept explored opportunities to accretion absorption in added spending categories, with accounts payable and supplier accepting now accepted targets for B2B FinTechs attractive to arm businesses with a way to pay invoices after compromising admired alive basic float. [PYMNTS]

9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card – amazon credit card | Delightful to help my personal blog, in this particular time period I’ll demonstrate in relation to keyword. And today, this is the primary graphic:

Amazon | amazon credit card

What about picture over? is actually of which wonderful???. if you think maybe thus, I’l m teach you a few impression once more underneath:

So, if you’d like to obtain all of these great pictures about (9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card), press save button to download the shots in your computer. These are prepared for transfer, if you’d rather and wish to own it, simply click save logo on the article, and it’ll be instantly down loaded in your pc.} As a final point if you wish to obtain new and the recent picture related with (9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card), please follow us on google plus or bookmark this blog, we try our best to offer you regular update with all new and fresh images. We do hope you enjoy staying here. For many updates and recent news about (9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card) pics, please kindly follow us on twitter, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on book mark section, We attempt to present you up grade regularly with all new and fresh pictures, enjoy your searching, and find the right for you.

Here you are at our website, contentabove (9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card) published .  Nowadays we’re pleased to announce we have discovered a veryinteresting topicto be discussed, that is (9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card) Some people searching for details about(9 Mind-Blowing Reasons Why Amazon Credit Card Is Using This Technique For Exposure | amazon credit card) and of course one of these is you, is not it?

ICICI Bank Launches Amazon Pay Credit Card – Save 9% on Amazon .. | amazon credit card

My new Amazon credit card has no numbers on it .. | amazon credit card

The new metal amazon prime card visa sig is here .. | amazon credit card

from WordPress https://www.visaword.com/9-mind-blowing-reasons-why-amazon-credit-card-is-using-this-technique-for-exposure-amazon-credit-card/ via IFTTT

[queen-mabs-revenge]

Alright, @mossandmushroom, call off the p0.rn bots! Thing the third. Just under a year old, this one – started after 5.15, as will become obvious. This still needs some (read: a fucking lot of) work, if I’m honest, but the point of this exercise is to stop sitting on things while looking up literacy rates in the early 18th century, so…

Jones Brothers backstory meta that kind of morphed into fic because that’s how I roll. As you can imagine, this is not a happy time. Mentions of minor character death, corporal punishment, and oblique references to spec (spawned by this post yep, surprise surprise @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable is involved!) as to the reason why Killian started drinking in the first place.

It isn’t completely terrible at first.

Mama had always let them read over her shoulder at night, and it wasn’t long before she was guiding them through sounding out the words themselves – a kiss on the head for every particularly difficult one; her having to break up squabbles because Liam would snigger when Killian stumbled over a word he’d worked out years ago – first Liam, then Killian in turn. They learned quickly.

And whenever Father would return home, Liam would accompany him to the merchant’s office listening intently to the numbers being volleyed back and forth while negotiations for prices were being made. The first time he tried to barter his way out of eating sprouts because he’d calculated that he’d eaten more than enough this year already, Father almost inhaled his ale he was laughing so hard at the look of astonishment on Mama’s face.

And Captain Barrow is terrifying with his wiry white hair and deeply lined face, but he sees value where value lies, if nothing else, and another sure hand and a head for numbers is something he puts straight to good use. And if Killian peers over the edge of the desk at Liam’s graceful letters that look like Mama’s did, and runs his fingers reverently along the complicated instruments keeping the maps from snapping shut, the captain doesn’t shoo him away to help in the mess all the time.

That’s not to say it isn’t terrible at times. Food is scarce, days are long and hard, and sometimes Killian looks over the wrong person’s shoulder (he doesn’t mean to get in the way, but everything is so new) and he might get a cuff tossed his way, but the nights of inconsolable crying had ended when he realised that Father wasn’t coming to collect them at the next port, or the one after that, and any outbursts borne of general frustration or exhaustion are easily silenced with a look from Liam, or an arm around the shoulder.

But the Captain is already past his prime, and it was only a matter of time before the harsh sea air settled into his lungs. A few short years after Brennan disappears, Liam transcribes the Captain’s last will and testament and Killian hauls away buckets of bloody rags that remind him too much of half-dreamlike memories of the bare glimpses he caught of Mama’s bedroom before he was shooed away out of sight.

Captain Barrow’s death leaves too many accounts to settle, and two boys who can’t haul full weight (a boy and a young man, really – but Liam had begged…) were luxuries that could not be spared; the new captain – the old first mate who often acted annoyed, but would slip them extra bread after supper eyes them dolefully as their title is sold to balance the books.

And as the negotiations are going on, and the other ship’s quartermaster eyes Liam’s broad frame and Killian’s skinny, awkward legs, Killian realises that if this man wants Liam and not him, there’s nothing they can do to stop it. If the man doesn’t want to spend the silver, or doesn’t need a boy of letters there’s no need for him. He can’t stop this. He can’t change this. His world narrows, darkens around the edges, the haggling voices fade into the background and his breath starts coming quickly. He looks up at Liam for something, anything, but his brother is staring straight ahead silently and calmly. Killian doesn’t miss the twitch in his jaw, a silent warning, when he catches Killian’s trembling and fidgeting in the corner of his eye. And Killian doesn’t understand how he’s doing nothing, when it’s taking everything in him to not grab Liam’s hand and run like hell. How can he be so calm when this matters so much? Killian focuses his simmering anger on his brother’s every calm and measured breath as the deal is struck.

He doesn’t talk to Liam for the first few days on the new ship – he doesn’t talk to anyone, really. The new captain is a vastly different breed, and the bo’sun is a mean fucker, and Killian vents his anger on various and sundry inanimate objects around the deck while silently doing what he’s told. Which of course gets the eye from the bo’sun. Not that Killian notices in his rage; he pointedly ignores Liam’s continued attempts to calm him, and after three days of this tantrum, he gets slapped hard for yanking the net he’s meant to be untangling out of a crew member’s hands. He breaks down sobbing when Liam tends to his split and blooded cheek in the hold.

But from that point on, the anger never really goes away, because he’s twelve years old and he knows that his life is not his own. And he’s made sure to know it every time his anger spills over into defiance, which in turn gets him harsher and harsher punishments, which serve as further reminders of his powerlessness, which feeds the fire that smoulders away in his heart. And it becomes so easy to provoke him, and some opportunistic crew members find out that riling the angry slave is a terribly amusing way to pull rank. And when Liam steps in to protect him from being baited, that’s when Liam starts to get beat for insubordination as well.

And he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do because it’s his fault and he tries so hard to ignore them and let it go for Liam’s sake but he can’t bottle up his anger. He can’t stop himself.

Then there’s the time when the ship has been listing due to a windless few days and everyone’s on edge. He’s toed off balance by a hard shoulder from the bo’sun while leaning over the rail trying to scrape some particularly tenacious barnacles off the side of the ship. When he stumbles back out of harm’s way, he’s grabbed by the back of the neck and ordered to go pick the maggots out of the hard tack. He yanks himself out of the man’s grasp with a growl, and kicks out at a coil of rope while stomping away. 

And then he hears the captain call out his brother’s name. 

And suddenly his heart is in his throat and his stomach has dropped to the floor because the captain is hauling Liam to his feet and he’s confused and terrified until he hears the man snarling something about Liam not being able to teach the boy some respect after all and then the knotted end of a thick bit of rope is being dragged across Liam’s back as he bends over grasping white-knuckled at the rail. And Killian is struck dumb with horror, because it’s not like other times when Liam would stand up to someone bullying him, Liam wasn’t doing anything at all and he’s still getting flogged because of him. And he goes white as a sheet and staggers a step back as the breath leaves his lungs. A crew member can’t resist but to push his shoulder and sneer about useless mouths getting what they deserve, and Killian finds that where his fists would usually be flying in frustration, he’s too horror-struck to even register the provocation.

And later, lying in bed, Liam’s bruised and welted back to him, he can’t stop thinking about that moment. Because he didn’t fight back. He was so numbed from the scene that he couldn’t. Liam shifts a little and he can hear the tiny moan of pain that his brother tries to bite back, and as the tears leak silently from the corners of his eyes, he knows he’d do anything to feel nothing again.