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mystic-sky · 4 years

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A/N: here’s Part 2/4💘 I told y’all I’m gonna finish this and I will. this short series is NSFW. Enjoy 😭❤️

✨part 1 here✨ | ✨parts 3 & 4 on ao3 only✨

Some would say this was entirely unnecessary, perhaps even a little too casual for work. But you know when you have one of those really good friends you’d do anything for? The kind you’d spend money on without a second thought? That’s how you felt about Suguru. You could call him whenever you wanted and he’d come fix up your car for you, help you lift things, or just lend you his ear. He was an extremely good listener, and he was always there for you. It was hard to believe such a sweet guy could be friends with Satoru. It was also hard to believe how you could ever favor Satoru more.

You were incredibly excited to give Suguru all the things you had gotten him over the weekend. Then, like a raining brick shower, did you remember that he came to your work place, with Satoru, and you anonymously gave him a lap dance. And now, you have to talk to both of them like you weren’t shaking your ass in their faces the night before. Tough.

You questioned all your life decisions as you anxiously dialed Shoko. You told her it was urgent and that you needed help with the gift bags, as well as time for girl talk and morning coffee before work.

When she arrived you graciously hugged her, whining and crying her name as you reached over the arm rest.

“You didn’t tell anyone where I worked at, right?” You say, tear stricken and panicked as you peer at her through wet eyes. She shot you an almost betrayed look. When did you start thinking she could be that menacing?

“No- are you crying? Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” She pushed you away, staring worriedly with baggy under eyes.

“Suguru and Satoru showed up to my other job last night.” You shrieked, leaning against the wheel of your car and burrowing your head in your arms.

“I did have a blindfold on but I don’t know if they knew it was me.” You say, muffling your embarrassment.

Shoko could’ve laughed a bit, picking up her iced coffee.

“You always did talk about giving Satoru the dance of his life to put his pitiful attitude in check.” She said, unpackaging the straw and stabbing the lid.

“Shoko!”

“What? Your words not mine.” She said smugly.

“I mean that’s how I felt but then he actually showed up! And then he gave my co worker his number to give to me! He definitely knows it’s me!”

“Why would he give it to you again on a piece of paper if he knew it was you?” Shoko quizzed.

“To fuck with me, obviously.” You mutter, sinking into the drivers seat. “That’s Satoru shit.”

She swished her coffee around, further mixing her creamer. “That does sound like Satoru behavior.”

“Shoko!” You whined again. “How the heck am I supposed to face him? Not to mention, I got Suguru all this stuff and I was so excited to give it to him. You think he knows too? And what if he didn’t know but Satoru told him? Ugh- my head hurts.” You say, taking up your coffee and plunging the lid with your own straw.

“How good was your blindfold?” She raises a brow at you.

“I looked like Harley Quinn’s knock off stripper sister.” Shoko let a laugh, earning a grunt from you.

“Okay okay, so they probably don’t know. But I would just suck it up and act like you don’t know anything either. Like an ‘I know that you know that I know’ kinda situation? But you’re not gonna do anything about it- kinda thing.”

“And you could always switch jobs if you’re that mortified. Poor Suguru, and his gifts though. It seems like Satoru ruins everything for him.” She sighed.

Shoko had a way of pretending like things weren’t as bad as they were, and though sometimes it bothered you, talking to her helped you relax.

“I forgot to mention I gave Suguru a dance.” You sink more into your chair, covering your face.

“Oh then they definitely know.” She teased.

“Shoko!!!” You whined again.

“I’m kidding! There’s no guarantee that they know or don’t know.” Shoko said, placing her coffee down. “I would fake it until you can’t.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole. Couldn’t you just live a peaceful life?

“I have to move away and change my name, it’s the only way.” You cried.

“Let me help you get the bags,” Shoko said, stepping out the car and ignoring you entirely.

“I was only messing with you, they don’t know a thing. I overheard the two of them inside talking about how nice the place was. They didn’t mention anything in particular while I was clocking in.”

You panicked anyway. Why would they?

“Now up and out, you can’t hide in your car forever.”

You sluggishly climbed out the vehicle and opened your trunk.

“If it makes you feel better I’ll ask them about it for you.” Shoko helped you gather Suguru’s gifts and you went inside.

Just relax, (Name). Be cool, be cool.

You were dazed, deep in thought as you and Shoko walked through the halls. You never regretted giving anyone a lap dance during your entire dancing career. You honestly don’t know what came over you. All you wanted was to make Satoru’s mouth water. It’s not like you didn’t already have his attention with his constant flirting at work but still, why did you have to be so gutsy?

You set the gifts down on your desk, before slumping into your office chair.

“Good morning!” You heard the white haired devil chirp through the door way, knocking ever so lightly on the already opened door. Suguru trailed in quietly behind him, greeting you and Shoko.

“Morning!” Suguru hummed, taking a delicate sip from his coffee.

You shyly waved, before Shoko spoke. “How was your night out?”

Breaking the ice for us all Shoko, I thank the heavens and earth for your existence.

“It was great! Wish you guys could’ve been there. Fanciest club I’ve ever been to, like ever.” Satoru spoke, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“It was cool. I still would’ve rather went to dinner with everyone.” Suguru shrugged, setting his coffee on his desk. You watched Satoru approach your table, quickly changing the subject of conversation.

“What’s all this?” He quizzed, looking down at your sheepish body in your chair. Did they really not know? Or were they possibly pretending not to?

“T-These are gifts, for Suguru,” you stand, feeling a bit more confident. The dark haired male perked up at you, before walking towards your desk.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he sighed. You could see the soft smile edging on his lips as he looked down at you. “And then you spoil me like this? People are gonna think we’re dating, you know?”

You swore you heard Satoru scoff.

“Hush, I told you it’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re always helping me out without asking. You deserve to be spoiled!” You say firmly, hands on your hips. He blushed a bit, realizing he wouldn’t be able to argue with you if he tried.

“You never spoil me this much on my birthday,” Satoru pouted, quickly inserting himself between the two of you, both verbally and physically.

“You’ve got to make your mark on people Satoru,” Shoko said, taking a seat behind her desk.

“I spoil all my friends as needed.” You say, crossing your arms proudly. “If you were a little nicer, maybe I wouldn’t think twice about buying you a bunch of nice things. Besides, your mistresses spoil you plenty.”

“Mistresses? What mistresses? (Name) it hurts my feelings when you talk like that.” Satoru put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“You have feelings?” Everyone but Satoru said this in unison, resulting the room to fill with heavy laughter.

“Oooo so funny.” He said sarcastically, keeping the straightest face.

“If you’re good to me for the rest of the year I’ll get you something nice.” You say, soothing the wound you all gave him.

“But it’s not your birthday right now, is it?” You say, flipping your hair and shifting behind Suguru. You gave him a little push.

“Go head, open them!” You say excitedly. Suguru lets out a soft laugh, before digging into his bounty.

After watching him open his gifts while Satoru graciously recorded the entire moment for his Instagram, the white haired fiend sparked up an idea.

“So, since Suguru kept saying he wanted to do something with everyone I thought we could take a getaway trip this weekend to my folk’s place in the country side.”

“Just us 4?” Shoko asked. “And are you sure we won’t be bothering your parents?”

“Oh no, this is their vacation house. They only go on the holidays. Also, Nanami is definitely coming!” Satoru cooed.

“That sounds like so much fun!” Shoko swooned.

“I haven’t seen Nanami in so long. This should be exciting.” You clasp your hands together delightedly.

“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t actually ask Nanami if he wanted to come yet...” Geto squinted at Satoru, who smiled childishly.

“Nanami loves me. He is coming by default.” He says proudly. “Speaking of, I have to go meet with him tomorrow to take care of some business. So unfortunately, I won’t be able to train with Megumi. (Name) do you think you could pick him up from school for me tomorrow?”

“The middle schooler you’ve been teaching? Why do I have to do it?” You ask, swaying your hips as you look at him.

“Because~” he sung.

“Because...?”

“He’s been talking about meeting you!” He gleamed.

“Has he really? Are you talking about me behind my back or something? How does the kid even know who I am?”

“Of course! I’ve told him plenty stories about the all powerful (Name)! The mightiest jujutsu sorceress to date.” He was clearly just trying to flatter you.

“Fine, I’ll pick up the kid.” You roll your eyes.

“Yay~” He says, casually hugging you. He always did that, not that you actually minded. And you knew he knew it got to you every time, hearing him smirk as you push him off. You force back a blush as Suguru speaks.

“That didn’t take much convincing,” he smirks with him a bit.

“I just wanted him to stop talking.” You say, grabbing your purse. You could hear Shoko attempting to stifle a laugh behind you.

“Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. I have a class to teach.” You waved goodbye, on your way to cater to the class of second years you were currently responsible for.

You were finally able to relax, feeling like your dancer identity was safe. Now, all you have to do is forget the lap dance and pray to whatever God there is that neither of them would come back. You proceeded to take out your phone and text your club manager, asking for the weekend off. You were lucky she was so lenient.

The work day lasted longer than you’d liked to, and you hadn’t stayed behind to chat with anyone. Shoko knew you were always keen on going home to shower and relax a bit before your shift at the club.

You were in the club locker room, just barely after 10pm. You wanted to ask Tasty for juicy details on Suguru. You were eager to know if he had texted her or had talked of coming back. Fortunately for you at the same time, she was off today. To you, this decreased the likelihood of seeing the dark haired male and his devilish best friend. That is, if he truly liked her enough to come back.

You were wearing a more revealing set this evening- a suede, pink two piece. You made sure your heel straps were tight enough around your ankles before walking out onto the floor to do your first 10 minute set of the evening. You spun on the pole, climbing gracefully. The higher you went, the more dollars being thrown. You slid down the pole, connecting your body to the floor with a split. You crawled lionlike towards the edge the stage, greeting some of your regulars who sat towards the front. Flipping your body, you get up smoothly ending the routine and collecting your bounty.

As you walked down the stage and made your way towards the bar, you could see the silhouette of a tall, white haired male, speaking to the bartender. His body was turned away from you, and he was ordering a drink as if he just got there.

You knew it was him. You could recognize his cocky stance just about anywhere. You dropped to the floor, crawling away and earning stares from plenty of your coworkers and customers alike. Oh I’m definitely quitting, you thought.

You managed to crawl back towards the locker room.

“This cannot become a routine,” you clutched your chest. It felt like you were having another mini heart attack like the night before. Did he just decide this was his new favorite spot? You could’ve sworn you were in the clear. And two days in a row?

He knows, he has to. Should you confront him? Twice was too many times. You almost can picture his smug face out there right now. You’re a bit angry that he had the nerve to come back again, but a portion of you, the little devil inside you- wanted him to watch you dance again.

Then you remembered Shoko’s words. Fake it until you can’t anymore.

If he wanted to play, then you’d give him exactly what he wanted. You opened your locker, fiddling around through your costumes and head coverings. You took hold of the a pink masquerade mask you had left over from a theme night at the club a few weeks ago.

“This should do.” You say, sliding on the seductive looking mask and fixing your hair in the the mirror. You struck a pose, before flipping your hair in satisfaction and strutting out of the room. You walked past a few regulars, and made yourself comfortable by the bar area. You decided you’d dance around everyone but him.

Satoru took note of your scent first, realizing your feminine force was behind him. He sipped his drink before spinning in his barstool to look at you dancing amongst the other customers. He adjusted his sunglasses, taking in the sight of you.

The set you wore was more revealing than the one from yesterday. He felt like he truly missed out the night before as he watched you drag your hand down the chest of a stranger, feeling a bit envious. His length felt tight in his jeans yet again. But he was a smooth guy, he knew exactly how to make you come to him.

You noticed him get up from the bar, walking away from where you danced. You couldn’t help but get distracted and anxious. You didn’t want Satoru anywhere you couldn’t see him. You almost jumped when your club’s bouncer, Ravi, approached you in the middle of your mini lap dance.

“Candy, the tall guy,” he tried not to point, “the white haired one with dark glasses wants a private dance.” Satoru approached the bouncer earlier when he first came in, pre-requesting a dance from you and tipping him a hefty amount for it. Though he’d explained he’d be fine if you declined it, he truly just wanted to see just how far he could get.

You stared at the thick wad of cash that stuck out of the pocket of Ravi’s dress shirt. You knew Satoru had the guts to ask you directly, but it was more so that he was that much of an asshole, who simply wanted you to approach him on your own.

Ravi then pointed loosely with his chin at Satoru, who had been sitting on the sofa on the other side of the club now.

You nodded, assuring Ravi you weren’t going to keep him waiting. You walked slowly towards him, he barely made eye contact with you.

Fake it until you can’t.

“Hey handsome,” you lean over the railing, displaying your breasts right beside him. He perked up a bit, though he briefly watched you walk towards him beforehand. He sparks a grin, and you can see blue orbs peering ever so slightly over the edges of his glasses.

“Hey,” he confidently sits back, not even shy about looking at your breasts.

“Have you been here before?” A classic conversation starter, but were you were attempting to poke fun at the awkward situation.

“Ahh, yes! Ms. Number One, from the private dancer line up. I was here yesterday with my friend.” He took a sip from his glass. “But I don’t expect you to remember. You’re a very busy, and talented woman.”

You bite back a blush, “Thank you.”

“A little birdie told me you wanted a private dance,” you maneuvered around the railing but still leaned against it.

“Oh yeah,” he preferred not to waste time. He pulled a thick and wrapped stack of cash from his shirt and placed it on the table in front of you. You tried your best to keep your eyes from widening. The currency strap read $5000.

“A private dance in the private booth costs a hundred.” You felt inclined to remind him as the both the stack and him stared back at you. “And if you wanted the highest package it’s $500 with champagne and refreshments included for the hour, typically for a group.”

“It says that on your website,” he nods, clearly already knowing the information. You almost squint at him before he speaks again.

“Also, I figured I’d pay you enough to go home for the night if you felt like it.” He shrugged. The Gojo family clearly had it well for him to just toss five thousand dollars at a stranger. You shivered when you remembered counting your earnings from the night before, two thirds of the pile being from Satoru.

A part of you felt like ripping your mask off and asking him to go home. Your awkward silence made him stifle a laugh.

“Candy, baby girl, is somethin’ wrong?”

You knew he knew you were blushing, even with your mask. But you promised yourself one thing after leaving the locker room- you would bring him to his knees. And if he wanted to play, you’d be sure to win.

“Alright hot stuff, come with me.” You used a finger to slide the stack towards you before picking it up.

He grinned at you before you brought him to one of the private rooms. Everything was preset up considering Ravi saw you warming him up prior.

Satoru made himself comfortable in the soft velvet cushions and red lighting. You sat beside him, taking hold of one of the champagne bottles from the ice bucket. You popped it open, causing some of the foam to splatter onto your breasts and stomach.

“Whoops,” you said playfully. You always liked to tease with the exclusive dances. He bites his lip while he watches you fill both of your glasses, taking up one soon after.

“Do you guys have candy here?”

“Only mints by the bar. Did you want something sweet?” That’s so like him, you thought.

“Nah, mints don’t count.” He shook his head. “Chocolate anything?”

“We have chocolate-covered strawberries,” you suggest.

“That’ll do,” he clutches one of the heart shaped pillows, flashing smile.

You rung the bell on the wall, speaking into the microphone beside it to make the request before plopping beside him.

“You’ve got me for the hour,” you leant towards him, crossing your legs. “So let’s make it count.”

“I was hoping we could talk for a bit first,” he said, swishing the liquid in his glass. You almost panicked, but quickly spoke up.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You lean your arm on edge of the couch. It wasn’t uncommon for guys to request dances from you just for you to listen to their qualms for the hour. Although, you never pictured Satoru as the type to do so. Actually scratch that— you settled into the sofa, preparing to hear him ramble on about himself. You made sure to keep eye contact with him, making it known you were indeed listening.

“I got a thing for this girl— she’s amazing. She hates me though. Granted, I’ve been an asshole since high school. I think she’s into my best friend, although he promises me it’s nothing like that.”

“Have you tried flirting with her?” Satoru was infamous for being a casual, serial dater. You wondered who she could be. Just because you were in his inner circle didn’t necessarily mean this girl was you or anyone you might’ve known. But you couldn’t help but put yourself into perspective anyway.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty mean though.” He grinned, “To me.”

“And that makes you happy?” You questioned.

“I mean, obviously it doesn’t.” He clarified, realizing just how crazy he looked in that moment. “Oddly enough, I’d like to think she likes me back a bit.”

“Sounds kiddish right?” He chuckles. “Like is she a middle schooler or something? She’s been playing hard to get for a while now.”

You twitch your eye a bit, was he really that full of himself?

“She probably doesn’t like you. You shouldn’t try to read between the lines. Have you ever asked her directly if she does?” You reason, trying to humble him a bit.

“Nah, I guess I’m just afraid to ask her the right way.” He cocked his head back, earning a confused look from you. You never knew Satoru could be afraid of anything. He was seemingly a fearless person and he was the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer to date.

“Could you elaborate?” You poked.

“She’s the only woman whose ever rejected me. Can you believe that?”

You’re partially amused, these truly were the thoughts in his head— you were sure of it.

“What I mean mostly is that I think she’s an idiot,” he chuckled. You almost broke into laughter.

“For rejecting you?”

“No, no, no— well, maybe. I think she’s incredibly dense. I’ve known her for like 10 years. That or she just tunes out my advances.” He scoffs.

“Everyone else knows it’s obvious I still like her. I think the reason why I’m never direct with my feelings, or the reason I boil it down to casual flirting is because I’m scared of her rejecting me again.”

“The first time was when we were both seniors in high school. She told me to try again after I learned some ‘compassion’. It feels like she’s somewhat interested in me. And I hardly think I need to learn anything— but it’s been years since she said that.” He adds.

He hadn’t looked at you the entire time, sort of ogling at his drink before setting it down.

He was unraveling in front of you, as a complete stranger.

“You get this a lot— the sappy talks, right?”

You nodded, “It’s no big deal.”

“I promise I’m not like this all the time.”

A clearer look inside Satoru’s mind was interesting, to say the least. You don’t think he acted this way on purpose. Perhaps, nothing has pushed him into such a corner for him to begin actively taking people’s feelings into account the way the average person might.

He huffed. “What would you do?”

You pondered for a bit, what would you do? You weren’t sure who the mystery woman he described was but you felt a little jealous, trying to wrap your head around the idea of him being this smitten over someone. He had given you a taste of himself, something he dared not to show you when you weren’t wearing the mask.

“Be direct next time you approach her. Stop playing around so much and tell her how you really feel. Nothing too grand, and try your best to understand her if she rejects you again. You’re a handsome guy, so it won’t be the end of the world if she does.” You explain.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive by saying that last part either.” You added. Though his head was cocked back, his gaze shifted towards you. He hardly looked worried or sad at all. He shot you a toothy smirk, making you squirm in your seat a bit.

“I know that,” he finally says. There he was again, being his typical arrogant self. “If it doesn’t work out, you’ll see me back here again.”

Dear God, Satoru becoming one of your regulars? You didn’t know if you could handle that. You could just work in a different club. Lord, let this mystery woman scoop him up, and make your life easier.

The thought of him coming regularly just to see you made you happy sort of, but you found yourself getting jealous for the days you wouldn’t work. Suddenly, you didn’t want anyone else dancing for him. It had to be you.

“Woah, you okay?” He tilted his head towards you. You held your cheeks in your hand. If you were a kettle, you’d physically be steaming.

“You’ve got a cute side, Ms. Candy. That’s precious.” He leant forward, glasses sliding down his nose a bit. No matter how long you’ve known him, he would still give you butterflies just like when you were younger.

The server entered the room, placing the strawberries that he ordered onto the table. You watched him take off his shades and hang them on his shirt.

“Fuck yes,” he grinned, picking up one of the chocolate covered fruits. You watched him take a bite, tugging on your own bottom lip. He slid his tongue between two fingers, blue orbs just barely glinting at you. He hummed in delight as you awed at him. Really, everything about him was perfect aside from his flawed personality. You would’ve been dating him already if you felt he’d be a good boyfriend. He was obviously and unfairly attractive. You were positive the sex would be good too, considering you heard more than satisfactory things. He was tall, and wealthy, and strong and talented. He was just a shitty person sometimes.

Somehow you liked him all this time, he’s been the only man whose kept your interest. That’s partially because he was persistent, in the most attractive and appealing way. But you’re adults now, maybe you should stop playing around so much.

Did you even have time to change your mind with this mystery girl in the way?

“I think I’m ready for my dance now,” he said smugly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Of course baby. Just sit back and relax.” You had to remind yourself, you’re Candy right now, and not (Name).

He sunk back into the sofa, spreading his legs as you got up and positioned yourself in front of him. He spreads his long arms on the head of the sofa, slight smile leaking at the corners of his lips.

You swayed your body, giving him a show. It was finally happening. You were giving him the very thing you fantasized about since you started dancing. You climbed onto his lap, grinding against him as the music played in tandem with your hips. He seemed elated, and not even remotely ashamed of the growing bulge in his jeans. You were feeling antsy, watching him with his arms sprawled out like that.

“I don’t normally let people touch me during my dances, but you can if you want.” You weren’t supposed to sound so shy when you said it.

“You’re being extremely generous, I’ll tip you again, for sure baby.”

You felt his large, hot hands connect with your back, running down the smooth skin. You smiled smugly, looking down at him. You grinded against him some more, feeling his bulge confidently poke against your sex.

All you ever wanted was for him to touch you like this. You were mad at yourself for holding out this long— why did his hands feel so good against your bare skin?

Possibly just because you liked him, and that amplified the experience.

Lost in the moment, you felt your hands run through the smooth fade of his undercut while you humped his lap. The amount of stimulation this gave the both of you was astounding. You heard a soft groan leave his lips, rising color out of your cheeks.

You brought a finger to the string of your outfits top, pulling it undone and gracing him with the sight of your breasts as you tossed the fabric on the sofa. He was sort of surprised, but his facial expression was nothing short of cocky. It wasn’t the first time a stranger stripped top-less for him, and coincidentally, making panties drop was his hobby.

“Oh~?”

His voice was terrifically deep, you never knew he could drop an octave this low. You’d usually be talking up a storm, doting on your customers with compliments and saying appropriately reassuring things. The entire experience was weird, having your childhood crush grope you and nuzzle his face into your breasts hadn’t been on your to do list for the evening.

He hummed against the skin in the center of your chest, sending vibrations up your spine.

“I know I’m pushing it, considering this is nothing but a service agreement, but I’d be happy to make you feel good— if you want me to, that is.”

You looked down at him, knowing the mask you wore couldn’t save you from him noticing the blushing look on your face.

“Just what do you take me for?” You’re being playful about it, wrapping your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not offended.

“A hard working woman. I envy the man who gets to spoil you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, and you assumed he caught on due to the way your lips parted and no sound emerged.

“Ohh-hoh??? There isn’t one, is there?”

He stole the show from you, and now you’re sitting in his lap like some sort of blushing sheep.

“That makes me feel sort of special,” he purred, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a dainty moan, grinding harder against him. You were no longer grinding along with the music, just finding a rhythm that would satisfy the both of you. He grunted at your sudden change in pace, his searing hot breath against your skin.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, nipple between his teeth.

“What about the girl you like?” You found yourself regretting even saying that, considering you were supposed to be a neutral party.

“You jealous?”

You suck in your bottom lip, barely forming a pout. He truly was an asshole to everyone. It didn’t even matter if someone was on top of him. Before you’re able to say anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t be.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the center of your chest, heightening the crimson hues on your cheeks. His soft lips unfortunately tore from your body when his phone rang. He slipped the thing from his jacket pocket, answering the call.

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30.” He said finally after following subsequent huffs. He ended the call, looking back up at you with apologetic eyes.

“I’ve gotta cut this short,” he was pained to say it. He was having too much fun.

“That’s alright.” You say, sliding your leg off him and finding your top.

He stood, straightening his clothes whilst muttering what you barely made out as ‘fuckin’ Nanami’ through his teeth. You almost laughed, as you tied your top back on.

“Candy, baby, I’m sorry. Guess I’ll have to come back again.” He looked too happy to say it.

“Before your confession?” You say smugly. “Or after?”

“No no, I’m a man of my word. I’ll come back only under those conditions I mentioned.” He says.

“I wish you the best of luck.” You say, crossing your legs.

“You’re rooting for me? You really don’t wanna see me again.” He chuckled as he towered over you, his blue gaze now covered by his glasses again.

“I’m always rooting for my customers.” You smile slyly.

His grin softened, and you wish you knew why he was looking at you like that.

“See you around, Ms. Candy.”

He waved goodbye as he exited the room, finally allowing you a some relief. Hopefully this chick doesn’t reject him, you thought.

Even though he probably wouldn’t come back, you thought about quitting and working elsewhere anyway. You tore off your mask, pushing your hair back out of your face.

You really didn’t want to have to wear one of these again.

#gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk gojo #lil bit if suguru in here #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #getou fluff #jjk x reader

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

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Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Heyy i hope this is ok, I really love your Verin x reader where he goes to see his brother is it ok to ask for a continuous of it like he visits the empire to see his brother but also the reader ???

I'm doing okay, thank you for asking! The dreaded double shifts have returned but I have a moment of freedom now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 😘

The sudden disappearance of Essek Thelyss had left quite the ravage in its wake. The Lens; the network of spies of the Dynasty was left in disarray and without a commander, valuable information had been lost and the underground threats of the Empire still posed a risk. The loss of their connection to the Empire and their own spies to keep tabs on the higher ups Essek had provided had disappeared with him leaving little to no information of the inner workings and plotting on the Dwendalian side of the border.

It was the perfect cover story. Verin is by no means as clever and cunning as his brother. He’s the first one to admit so. He’s got his own strength but that doesn’t leave him lacking a skillset similar to his brother’s. Verin knows how to get information. Verin knows how to stick to the shadows. Verin knows what he’s doing. That’s the words of those who spoke in his favour at the Lucid Bastion when he offered the prospects of temporarily providing that bridge until a suitable replacement was found.

Verin had proven to them his loyalty through providing them with answers to the questions they had been asking about the ongoings in Rexxentrum, limited but answers no less which was much better than what they had before. He offered them a remedy against the chaos and they could do nothing other than take it. So Verin got to frequent his resources of this information insisting he’d take care of this personally due to the fragility of them and risks associated; willing to make that sacrifice for his country and not needlessly put lives at risk, especially not after the disgrace his brother had brought them and his family.

Little did they know that his link to the Empire was you; one who sits on the Kings’ Council and you pointing him in the right direction, leaking through formation that was common knowledge between the higher ups of the empire; information that could have been provided by simply striking up a conversation with one of them. It was merely an excuse for Verin to visit his brother… and you as his social visits now included you many a time. He may have grown a bit attached to your company and you’d not risk sending another drow, let alone a Thelyss to stay at already suspected-of-lowkey-treason-every-Thursday Widogast/Thelyss household. No, you’d let Verin stay within the safety of your home escorting him wherever he needs to go to assure none of you get arrested for conspiracy and treason yourselves.

The cover used for the Dynasty was a little easier to maintain than the one for the Empire. Essek’s disguise had of course been in play long before Verin’s arrival. Essek claimed himself to be a former student of Yussa Errenis. That’s how he got to meet Caleb and when Caleb went to settle and teach at the Soltryce Academy he went with, settling down together going on their occasional adventures.

Verin’s had to be tied to that in some way or their frequent interactions would draw attention, be that people suspecting an affair between the two or something deeper. So the story in nature had to stay simplistic as Verin’s frequent traveling had to be explained and excused in a believable manner. He’d be the so-manieth son of a Nicodranian lord who was given little to no attention from his parents and siblings until he proved capable politically making friends and more importantly connections all over. The downside of these connections; they had to be maintained so he’d travel the world to do so but never too bothered to visit his childhood friend; the former apprentice living with professor Widogast.

Now of course you got some encouragement from the king’s council to nurture this relation with the Nicodranian lord’s son and opening up your own home instead of letting the man stay in one of the many lavish taverns was just that extra personal touch they needed to know you’d do so in name of the king of course. They just didn’t know this was all a lie and you’d keep it that way. The four of you and by extension the Nein and their allies aware would do anything to keep it that way even if that meant a certain little blue tiefling blackmailing a Nicodranian lord or two to keep up the facade with the things she had learned and overheard over her years at the Lavish Chateau.

You’d spent your day off with Caleb, Essek and Verin on a double date of sorts wandering the city, going sightseeing and just exploring ending with a dinner at your place. It had been a pleasant day and you and Caleb had taken a few moments away to allow the brothers to go out on their own for a while as you’d usually done. It still felt strange having the both of them in one place and acting civil no less. Essek had expected his next meeting with his brother to end with one of them dead but that dinner with the Nein had proved him different. Verin refuses to tell him what you’d told his brother to convince him to stay his hand exactly but never stalled to playfully remind Essek he had you to thank for his life.

Essek was happy to admit his relationship with his brother had almost gone back to normal. The normal before both of them were left to the responsibilities and expectations of the world and their country. There were still some hindrances and disagreements but they managed to work through them one by one as adults, though you and Caleb might have something different to say about the bickering children at times. They were siblings and even the semblance of normalcy and a healthy relationship between them brought smiles to your faces as both you and Caleb had been there when it came to your own makeshift family.

The night of your ‘double date’ had ended in a lovely dinner at your place after an eventful day. Caleb and Essek had headed home but a few minutes ago and you’d resigned yourself to washing the dirty dishes. Caleb and Essek had offered to stay and help but you’d shooed them and told them not to worry. There’s just something peaceful about the manual labor of such a mundane task letting your mind wander wherever it went.

“You know you could just cast a spell to clean them, or leave them for your help to clean in the morning.” Verin leans against the door frame watching you clean. You had this argument before. Yes you could speak a few words and snap your fingers and done nor would your housemaid complain about doing them in the morning should you leave them. You’d always felt uneasy with live-in housekeeping for some reason. Perhaps it’s the feeling of lack of privacy or maybe your need for independence but Verin blames your upbringing among the common folk where these were simply tasks you did every day.

“I could also cast a spell and make you do it.” You laugh setting another wet plate on the stack of clean ones ready to be dried and flick your wet hand at Verin who gives you a disapproving look seeing the droplets being absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. he knows better than to argue with you on this and instead picks up the dishcloth beginning to dry the stack of washed plates and putting them in the cabinet where you store them.

“You could just leave them for for the servants.” You mimicked his tone best you could with a laugh and now it’s Verin’s turn to dip his finger tips into the water and flick it at you. You gasp. He’d been getting bolder the more at ease he’d become and you got to see the drow more as the real person behind the layers of responsibility and complexity of his life and just let him be him. You’d seen this transcend with Essek before and knew well enough were it lead. If you could provide a similar haven of peace and allow him to be himself you’d do so. It wasn’t even a sacrifice made as you enjoyed Verin’s company. Though, you could do without him never putting your precious books back onto their shelves when not reading them. He blames losing the tome in your extensive collection if he did so.

“And if I’ve learned anything I know you’d dry them yourself. Last I checked you’re not a servant or am I mistaken?” Verin jokes as he stacks the dried bowls carefully.

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Tended to by servants cleaning up after you wherever you went?” You grin finishing the last dish and putting it on the stack turning to lean your hips against the counter behind you. You cross your arms with a teasing grin on your face as you look at him. He knows that grin all too well, enough to know what’s coming.

“Need me to lay out your clothes for the morning, m’lord? Should I bring you a midnight snack, m’lord? Do you desire a bath, M’lord? I could wash your hair and style it just the way you like it m’lord. Would you like me to help you get dressed, m’lord?” You put on a light voice and curtsy holding back laughter as Verin picks up the last dishes and puts them in the cabinet. He’s laughing with you, the act you put on quite hilarious to him. He knows you’re over exaggerating and he knows you know. He’s proven himself independent but it doesn’t help he actually knows people who are tended to in such a way.

“Not far off. I’ll applaud your efforts but you’re mixing tasks. Clothes do not leave the wardrobe until the moment before they’re meant to be worn. You wouldn’t want to wake your lord in the middle of the night so if a midnight snack as you say, should be desired, it should be prepared or provided when asked for. If you’re tending to the lord themself you wouldn’t be the one drawing the bath. As for getting dressed, I doubt you’d be able to help me because I recall you saying my enormous ego gets in your way too much already.” Verin speaks with all seriousness until he’s standing in front of you, hands clasped behind his straightened back. You share a look before bursting out in laughter.

As a reward for this moment of joy you pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses pulling him over to the table by the window he’d once climbed through to hide from the guard patrol. You set down the glasses and begin pouring the wine like a properly schooled server. Verin shakes his head as you pull out the chair for him and let him sit with a bow as you take your own chair at the other side. He may have some comments on the proper posture and manners but holds them back for the sake of humour. He knows you know so instead you just enjoy your wine together.

“How was your day?” You ask taking a sip.

“I’d tell you you’d know since you were there.” Verin commented and you kicked at his leg giving him a look. When you kick again he grabs your leg between his squeezing his shins together to trap it between his and gives you a wink as he takes a sip and releases you smugly.

“I enjoyed it. The gardens were lovely and seeing Essek get in the middle of an intense bet, letting loose like he did… I have not seen that side of my brother in a long time. Not but months ago whenever I tried to take him for a fun night out he’d complain and be a stuck up.” Verin speaks and you can imagine this truth of Essek. He had changed a lot ever since getting entangled with the Mighty Nein. For the better; that’s something you and Verin can agree on.

You enjoy the rest of your wine conversing about the rest of your day, Verin’s travels, your daily business and more. It’s something you’d grown so accustomed to. You pour yourself and Verin another glass, splitting the last contents of the bottle between the two of you with a ‘thank you’ from Verin as you give him just a little bit more.

“How long will you be staying this time round?” You ask changing the subject.

“Trying to get rid of me already? I’ve only been here for one night.” Verin sends you one of his usual charming grins and you wink back at him.

“If I wanted to get rid of you I’d simply call for the guards. How many times do you have to keep sneaking through my window? You know I have a front door right?” You know of his nightly endeavours. You know he really does have information to collect from sources you may or may not have hinted at but he could simply use the front door. You don’t mind either way but getting the living daylights scared out of you when you go into the kitchen for a midnight snack or a glass of water still half asleep, you could do without.

“I’ve been granted three weeks.” Verin has to admit, the Bright Queen’s acceptance of his time came as a surprise. He suspects the Dusk Captain might have gotten her in better spirits that morning and he couldn’t be more thankful. The ‘why’ at the end of his question was implied so he awaits your reply.

“I have some business to attend to at noon but the Mighty Nein is meeting up in Nicodranas for a little side adventure.” Oh. Verin does his best to not let his disappointment show. It’s the downside of not being able to send word ahead or know your schedules beforehand. If he’d known he’d planned differently. He doesn’t want to stand in between you and his brother’s friends.

“I will see you off then.” The crestfallenness in his voice is clear for you to hear so when you reach out over the table to clasp your hand over his, his eyes are drawn to you. Your gentle smile confuses him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to join us. We’ve worked around the sunlight sensitivity before, especially in the Menagerie Coast so if it’s no bother to you, why don’t you join us?” Verin looks at you, thinking you’re kidding or lying but sees none of this. He thinks for a second.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-“ He begins but you cut him off with another squeeze to his hand and a reassuring look.

“You won’t. You’re one of us now, Verin. You can’t get rid of us anymore.”

“Then I will come along. Thank you, you and your friends, for everything you’ve done for me.” Verin doesn’t really know how to handle this; getting closer to his brother’s friends, especially you that is. He’s never been in a similar position and the sheer genuineness of it is heart melting, even for him. Not even within his own family has he encountered this and he had been a lot closer with his family than his brother in their younger years.

“You’re very welcome.” You’d be off with Verin and the others. Another sea voyage? Perhaps, but like always you’d see where the winds would take you even if that’s by the literal winds, or a name on a map that sounds funny, or when you’ll unavoidably be on the run from some kind of creature chasing you. Let’s hope that dragon turtle stays far away, and if not, you’d have one hell of a time fighting it. With Verin at your sides this time. He’d be in for an adventure. He’d be in for a surprise. He’d be in for an undoubtable amount of chaos. And he’d welcome it all with open arms. Damn his sentimental side. He blames Essek for that one.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #verin x reader #verin thelyss x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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closer-stars · 3 years

Text

Heart of Depth (2)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: ~12k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. A little bit of crime stuff, some history, some art info dump, some typical genshin shenanigans Note: this was done way before, I’m already 90% done with part 3 but I kinda got bored while focusing on IRL things that i decided to post this. Enjoy folks. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 1

It’s been a few weeks since Wooyoung finally met Yeosang. While Wooyoung was mostly impressed with his background, there were a lot of mixed feelings from your end. For starters, he doesn’t stop talking about Yeosang and his job to you.

“Listen, he’s loaded.” Wooyoung tells you back in your apartment. It’s not that you didn’t believe him, in fact you did. It’s just the way Wooyoung is processing the entire thing made it seem unrealistic. Since Wooyoung found out he works at one of the most popular art museums in the region, he’s been pestering you about it nonstop.

“Wooyoung, I’m not saying that I don’t believe you but really, with the clothes he wears and how he carries himself, it’s not unbelievable that he’d be rich…” You say as you make yourself a cup of instant coffee. To most, they’d be surprised with how you choose to make instant coffee when you know how to make other types of coffee with ease. It’s just more convenient and less work for your head. It won’t give you the same caffeine boost as the coffee you make in your work but it’ll do for now.

“And you didn’t tell me this because…?” He trails off, dumbfounded at how you were so nonchalant about this. Well, maybe nonchalant isn’t the right word but you were a little too unaffected about this. He has a feeling that there’s more to this man, he just can’t place what it is exactly. Wooyoung does find the guy trustworthy, but there’s still something beneath the surface and that’s what bothers him.

You raise your shoulders at his question. “I just.. Didn’t see any point in telling you? Like, Wooyoung let’s be real,” you say as you write down how much you’ve made today. “What’s him being rich got to do with us? He’s a good person yeah but at least his money keeps my shop afloat with his daily purchases. If he wants me to make bulk orders then I’ll gladly consider it.”

He had to give that to you, your business was doing great too, judging by the money on the table. But he can’t help it, there’s something about Yeosang that tells him he’s not as regular as he makes himself out to be. There’s only so much that research and studying can tell you but to be able to talk about history as if he’s been there to experience it firsthand? Sounds fishy. He drops the topic though, seeing how you’re starting to struggle with the money. “So slow.” Wooyoung teases as he gets the cash box from you, as he starts to flip through the bills.

You roll your eyes at his teasing, kicking his shin under the table. “Even if I was slow, you enjoy my food and drinks so either way, we’re even.” You shoot back. You count the stacks he makes on the table and do the basic math that your brain can comprehend. Despite how infuriating he can get, you have to admit he’s really someone you can depend on.

Something in Wooyoung’s head clicks when he realizes that this was your closing routine every night. “You’re closing up early today?.” He asks, looking up at you from the stacks of coins. “Yeah uh,” You stammer out. “I’m uh, meeting up with someone..” You mumble. Even to you, it feels unreal that you’re catching feelings for someone. Someone who honestly just feels way too out of your league. Yet, here he is, sharing the same interest towards you and he’s about to see you in two hours time.

The mention of the date makes Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk upwards, a lopsided smile on his features growing. “Oh, with Yeosang?” He asks, crossing his arms across his chest. If he could take a photo of you sulking at him, he would for future blackmail purposes-- he’d also send it to Yeosang.

The mention of the man that has been making your heart race a little more than it should makes you hit his calf with the tip of your shoe. He doesn’t yelp so you coat the tips of your fingers with ice and tap the back of his neck, giving you the reaction you wanted. “Yes, it’s with him and please…” you already know what he was about to say, so you beat him to it. “I doubt it would blossom into something more..” Even to you, you don’t sound that convincing. You hope for something more but you know better.

At how flustered you look, he can’t help but chuckle lightly. It’s nice to see you show interest in someone in that light. Even if he’s still a little hesitant about Yeosang’s energy, he wants to trust your judgement. If anything happens, you know how to defend yourself. “I won’t push. You know what I’ll say anyways.” Once everything’s been accounted for, the two of you close up the shop for the night then head home.

The entire walk home, you let Wooyoung recount the conversation he had with Yeosang when they met. You wondered too how Yeosang and San found your best friend. The two of you were opposites but somehow it made sense. At one point, you kind of zone out of his stories, thinking of what to wear for tonight.

Wooyoung doesn’t really mind you zoning out. The two of you appreciate the alone time, you more than him sometimes. In a sense, it also helps Wooyoung to make sense of his thoughts when he thinks out loud.

The two of you arrive at your apartment and already you make a beeline to your room. You got roughly an hour to prepare now.

“Just wear something comfortable.” Yeosang reassures.

“Yeosang, comfortable can mean sweats or just jeans.” You point out, while you also had slacks, those were usually set aside for more formal stuff.

“Fine, not sweats.” He laughs softly only to stop at the look of mild panic in your face. “I promise, it’s nothing expensive.”

You mutter as you change out of your work clothes and into something more appropriate. You wiggle around your room, trying to find something appropriate and it’s a little unfortunate that you room has become a little messy from all the clothes you’ve been trying on. It took a little while to look presentable but you think you did well once you give yourself a once over on the mirror.

Wooyoung already barged into your room, already nagging you for taking so long. “You got less than an hour to get to your--- oh my god your room.” He says, his features dropping into one of horror as he takes in how your room looks.

“I’ll clean it up when I get back.” You beat him to it as you grabbed your bag. “What do you think?” You ask, shifting his attention from your room to you. His eyes scan your look closely then eyes your accessories. Without even saying anything else, he goes through the mess and picks up another bag.

“This goes better with your outfit.”

“Isn’t it a bit too big?”

“Who are you going on a date with tonight?”

“It’s not a date--”

“Who?”

You sigh. “Yeosang, so?”

“Use it. I’m telling you, that guy has a lot of money on him. You might bring home more things than expected.” He points out. “Also, make sure you wear your boots.” It made sense that Wooyoung would have more fashion sense than you. It just did.

“I’m not bringing him home!” You take the bag regardless and put your belongings in it.

He snorts at how you understood his words. “Not like that! I do trust you’d do it responsibly! But, that’s not my point. Just have fun okay?” He walks you towards the door. “If anything happens, call me.”

At his shift from insufferable to endearing, you decide to spoil him with a peck to his cheek. “I know. I brought a spare key also in case you get too tired from staying up.”

He scoffs at your words. “Go, have fun.”

---------

It was short sighted of you to forget to bring a jacket. The area Yeosang told you to meet him at was rather chilly especially at night. As you wait for him, you look around, the shops that lined up across you looked expensive. Did you bring enough money? Well you had a credit card but you only used it for emergencies. You doubt you could even buy one item from any of these shops. Maybe one day.

[ Yeosang to You ] Are you there?

[ You to Yeosang ] Yes! Are you here already? curious_ryan

You don’t know why you added an emoji to your message but you did. Once sent, you look around for the familiar black haired male.

[ Yeosang to You ] 2 minutes.

You lean against the wall, eyes still roaming around for the tall man. Truthfully, you wondered where he could be and what he was wearing since this was his idea after all. It’s up to what he wears that could decide if you wore too much or too little. You spot the raven-haired man from a few feet away; in a striped pull over and slacks as well. Though it looked just as casual as he said it would, his shoes seemed to make his outfit look more put together. You hope you looked okay. Once he gets a little closer, you wave your hand a bit to get his attention and it does.

“There you are.” He says softly, tipping his head politely to you. You take a few steps forward, greeting him warmly. It felt a little weird to meet him outside work but that’s the reason why the two of you are here.

“How was work?” You ask him, just like how you would back in your shop.

He gestures for you to walk with him, wherever it will be. “Same as per usual; scheduling field trips for high school students, collections from other countries and collectors coming in, restoring a few pieces and the like.” He returns with what you could assume was an exasperated sigh.

“It sounds like it was more than just the usual.” You point out as you look at the stores. “Where are we going exactly?”

“It’s the usual for me I suppose, maybe except for the field trips. Other than that, it’s routine for me.” You remember how he would talk about art restoration along with art collections coming in from foreign partners. It wasn’t an easy task for sure, maybe that’s why he didn’t mind staying for hours in the shop. “As for your question, there’s a small night market outside this mall. Nothing too flashy, just a lot of unique things that you might like as well.” You genuinely didn’t take him to be someone who would be into markets, based on his outfit that he feels your surprised gaze on him. “Is something wrong?” He asks. You shake your head at his concern.

“I just didn’t take you to be the type to like markets.” Well, for one, you know he’s rich and he’s wearing clothes that you can only assume are made to order. Two, even if you don’t really listen to Wooyoung’s insistent ‘He’s Rich and here’s Why’ tirades, you picked up a thing or two from it.

He takes no insult from your words and actually laughs behind a loose fist. “I’ve received those words a lot in the past. To be honest, it’s thanks to San and his lover that I’m more open to things now.” Back then, he was still in the dark about what the people like, intellectualizing everything to the point of disconnect. It took them having to explain things to him over and over until he understood things. “Though, old habits do die hard.” He continues, referring to his clothes. “But I have learned a lot.”

There’s something in his words that tells you there’s more. Your attention shifts to his clothes as he gestures to his pullover. You catch a glimpse of the brand name and in doing so, your heart drops. You know that name. An outfit there can cover two months worth of rent for your shop. Maybe even the bills.

That’s how the rest of the night goes: Yeosang showing you around the market, showing you various treats to the senses. There were various stalls that you fell for, buying a few of their products but you stopped yourself from over indulging in the purchases-- some merely out of impulse, some for the mere fact it just looked pretty. “Why don’t you buy it?” Yeosang asks as he catches you eyeing a small bottle of perfume.

“Hm?” You aren’t startled by his strange ability to slip in and out of your sight every so often now. This market has such a vast amount of products, that one would easily lose sight of their companions if they didn’t pay attention. Thankfully, he was tall enough for you to find him when needed. “Oh, well, I still have a bottle I use back at home. I don’t think I need another one just yet.” You shift your gaze to him, and you see he has bought quite a number of items. “Do you want to eat dinner already?”

“I was about to ask you. It is rather late.” He notes with a glance at his watch.

“Let’s go? I’m kind of hungry now as well.”

“Any preference?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold to which you don’t turn down.

“As long as it isn’t anything expensive.”

--------

Now why did this restaurant look expensive?

You were seated a little further inside the establishment. The seats were comfortable, privacy was assured and the music playing overhead wasn't Today’s Top 40. You were certain it was jazz. “I thought I said anything that isn’t expensive..” You say, unknowingly pouting at the man across you.

“Consider this as thanks.” He says simply, not even looking up from the menu. The in-house steak sounds lovely, especially at this time.

You look up from the menu, confused at his words. “For what?” You don’t remember what you did to result in such a lavish meal-- you don’t even remember what you ate for breakfast today. A small part of you wishes Wooyoung could be here too, he would’ve loved to try out the dishes here.

“Putting trust in me to be considered a good friend of yours.” Yeosang says, it’s only then that he looks up from his menu. “Have you decided on what to eat?” He shifts the conversation to you upon noticing the confusion still etched on your face.

“Uh, well. I’m not sure what I should order” Also known as, everything’s expensive but also they sound good. You were bouncing between the pasta, beef and the fish, unsure of which one would be better for you.

“Anything that you were eyeing?” He presses. Odd enough, he can tell when you’re holding your tongue now. While he doesn’t force you to say what’s really in your mind at times, you’re human, your body has limits as well. An empty stomach carries repercussions that would probably have Wooyoung on his head.

At his question, you tell him your options. He asks about your diet preferences and your appetite for the night until he finds a good dish for you for tonight. Once all that is over, the two of you are left alone once again. “So, my dear, what did you get in the market?” He asks you, leaning a little forward, hoping for a bit of a peek into what fancied your interests.

You look at the small bags that came with your purchases, wondering which one first to show him. “Oh I just got those small perfume bottles,” you start, pulling the box out of the bag. “It’s not much but it was such a lovely scent.” You start to gush over the purchase. It took you some time to decide on purchasing it, as it was your last purchase for the night.

He picks up the box, looking at the details of the perfume, noting all the things about it. Truthfully, he didn’t think you were into this but he’s up for surprises from you. Also, San’s into this brand as well, he didn’t think they made perfume bottles in such small sizes. He hands back the perfume to you, a pleasant hum leaving his curved lips. There’s always something for him to learn.

“What about you?” You ask him as you keep your purchase away. “What did you buy?”

Yeosang looks at the small bag he had by his side. He lets you bring it out of the bag. You peek inside first, confused to see a few envelopes of varying sizes. “What are these? Are you sure I can open these?” You ask, picking a small envelope, the length just roughly around the same as your hand. When you see him nod, you carefully pull up the flap. Being greeted by a strip of colored paper behind a cream colored paper confused you, so you carefully pull it out of its confines only to gasp at the quality.

It’s a watercolor painting. It looks like a flower, something you’ve never seen before. The color was soft against the cream paper yet it was so lively, as if you could tell how the petals could feel under your fingertips. He sees the shock on your face, smiling a little at the sight of how wide your eyes get. “They’re all paintings, you can look through whatever fancies your curiosity.” His words make you feel like a deer in the headlights.

“Where did you get these? I didn’t see an artist in the market…” You mumble in thought. You’d like to get one for your shop too. “What flower is this?” You ask Yeosang, holding up the painting you initially chose. Finding entertainment in watching how you look at art results in his eyes taking a while to adjust to the art in front of him.

“Ah this, it’s called a Névé Jewel. It’s rare to find them now but the artist, a good friend of mine in the market knows of the flower and managed to create this painting. No one else seemed to want it so I got it for myself along with a few other works.” He explains. “If you wish to have work made by him, I can easily arrange that should he leave the market after we’re done with dinner.” As he was about to continue his explanation, the food started to arrive. As you return his purchases, you check the time, it didn’t take as long as you would’ve thought. The flash of warm light from your phone catches his attention. Even at an angle, he can kind of depict what the photo is. “Apologies for the question but is that your family?”

After thanking the staff for serving your meals, you let him see your wallpaper, though you cover the image of a child you from his view. “Yeah, it’s an old photo of my parents, and I.”

“How are they now?” He asks, studying the photo like he would with artwork. The sunlight casting shadows over your mother’s hat, your father squinting through the glare, probably done at high noon. The wall definitely was a product of its time, bricks but covered over with a huge mural. He’s unsure if this was shot here or in another country, regardless, it’s evident it came from a much simpler time.

“Well…” There’s something in your voice that makes Yeosang quiet. The wistful tone is something he knows too well and not something he wants to bring at the first dinner with you. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked such a question.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we can change the subject.” He immediately adds after the gap. He gestures at your meal, not wanting it to go cold.

You shake your head at his concern. “It’s okay, it’s been roughly a decade now.” You explain as you pick up your utensils. “They’ve passed on now, it’s why I live with Wooyoung.” After your family’s passing, Wooyoung’s family took you in as one of theirs. It’s why you and Wooyoung can pass off as siblings now.

As he takes makes sure he gets a spoonful of the pasta, he smiles a little at your words. “If you didn’t tell me that the two of you weren’t related, I would’ve thought otherwise.” Yeosang’s voice takes on a teasing tone, a subtle attempt to bring back a smile of joy on your features.

You make a face, carrying no malice but rather fake annoyance. “Oh dear, that means he’s rubbed off on me.” You carefully cool off your meal before tasting it. It really was a good idea to bring a few extra in your wallet. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“Well,” He takes a moment or two to eat before continuing. “I suppose, just like you, they’ve passed on when I was younger. It’s been just San and I since then.” People he considered to be his family have passed on, or have retired from the outside world. Regardless, it has left him in a rather lonely state at times. While there are memories he is fond of, who else is there to share these memories?

The two of you share stories, at least the happier ones, about each other’s families. How it was your dad who instilled in you an affinity for art, your mom teaching you history a little more entertaining than your teachers did. Yeosang shares his stories as well, his brother being a reason for his inquisitive nature that eventually grew into his work. He also talks of how his older teacher taught him the tricks and trades of business. Despite living well off, it was really his siblings who had more or less raised him as his parents were often or rather always, working. Eventually the business of art rested on his shoulders, as he was the only one who had an interest in it. You wondered if he was aware of how much money the business gave him before he signed into this. Come to think of it, there’s only two families that have a hold on the art business. Surely he’s from one of them?

Come to think of it, you still don’t know his last name.

“Are you alright? Is the food okay?” He asks you after the stories have ended. That’s when you realized that you had spaced out in your thoughts in the middle of the meal. “Huh? Oh! Yes, i’m fine. Sorry I was thinking...” You continue to eat what’s left of your meal. “Because you said you took over the art business in the museum right? There’s only two families I can think of that has a hold on the art business industry here: Kang and Song.”

He chuckles lightheartedly, a little pleased to know that even until now his family is this impactful. “Ah, the Song. They’re a lovely bunch, the next in line is rather clumsy outside of formalities, it’s rather cute to see.” His comment makes you stare at him in disbelief. That leaves the option left is Kang. Kang Yeosang.

You’re eating with The Kang Yeosang.

The Kang family has been a pioneer in art restoration especially in works prior to the 1400s. Their own art collection were always pieces hard to find anywhere else-- either due to human’s hubris or due to nature, the way they’re able to keep them in pristine condition as much as possible. You don’t know how they’re able to find some of the artifacts, or how they have the rarest pieces but it’s one of the reasons why they’ve amassed such wealth. Curating in a popular museum, restoring old pieces, tours from not only students but also from diplomats, scholars while being funded to keep security at its peak by the government. It makes sense. It’s been a dream of yours to work in the National Museum and here you are, eating dinner with the owner of what could be more than 60% of the collection in the museum.

He watches the gears in your head click and the realization set in your eyes. He says nothing but flash a bright smile once he knows you know the answer. “I hope this doesn’t complicate our friendship.” He admits earnestly.

You reassure him, with much fervor that it doesn’t. It just makes you respect him a lot more. It’s not easy to keep a bit of a low profile and privacy yet he’s able to do so. Shit, Wooyoung’s right then, a mental note to make up for your lack of reaction and doubt was stored away. So the rest of the meal goes by with you asking Yeosang how it is to handle a museum, knowing how things have been lately.

He sighs a little, the recent rise in art theft has been the bane of his existence since day 1. The amount of artworks he had to keep from sticky fingers, the security of those works is where a good portion of his money goes. He fears the day more works end up in the wrong hands. “We do what we can. It’s not easy but we’ve upped the security in and out of the premises.” He reassures you. There’s comfort in meeting someone who loves art just as much as he and the staff outside of work. “Maybe in the near future, I can give you a private tour.” He casually passes his credit card to a staff member, as both of you are now finished with the meal.

If he was asking you on a date, it’s already a yes in your book.

“I’d like that.” You admit, unable to hide the excited grin on your lips. “Though, as thanks for the meal. If you want dessert, can I pay for it this time?” He didn’t give you enough time to react to the fact he had just paid for your meal. Might as well make up for it, somehow.

On the way to a dessert spot, the two of you decide to stop by the market in hopes of seeing his friend. “Oh hey!” Yeosang’s friend greets him upon realizing who’s right in front of him as he puts away some of his earnings from a recent sale.

“Hey Seonghwa, so my friend here discovered your works and wanted to see them so I brought them here.” The man next to you explains. You see some of his works on display, all of them were in various sizes, some bigger than the pieces Yeosang had bought. Yeosang catches the curious gaze of his friend on you then at him to which Yeosang shakes his head, not wanting to keep anyone's hopes up.

“They’re so pretty…” You say softly as you gaze at the larger pieces in awe. Seonghwa has created watercolor pieces of scenery, places you have yet to see, some look dreamlike. The smaller pieces are of various plant life, one of them looks similar to the flower piece you peeked at from Yeosang’s purchases earlier. “How much are the small works?”

Seonghwa looks at the general direction of your gaze. “The flowers are fifty thousand while the terrain’s at sixty thousand.” You weren’t so surprised at the prices but you had to pick one or the other.

Your lips press into a thin line in thought. “What do you think, Yeosang?” You ask. “I’m thinking of hanging one of them up in my shop.” Truthfully, the flowers would look good considering the plants you’ve cared for in your shop. The terrain on the other hand would stand out in all the good ways.

“Perhaps the floral one would suffice. It suits the ambiance of your shop as well.” Yeosang notes. You trust his judgement with this-- he handles a museum after all, and you fish out your wallet.

“That’s a lovely bracelet you got there.” Seonghwa gasps, awed by the beauty. He knows what that is, eyes flitting to the archon a little too quickly before shifting again to you. His words bring you flattery that you accept.

“It’s from my mom.” You simply explain, ears a little pink from the sudden attention on you. The blond male doesn’t miss your bashful ears that he chuckles lightly behind his hand and drops the topic.

“Your mother has quite an eye.” He simply says as he hands you your change. “Thank you for buying a work from me.” With that said, the two of you make your way to an ice cream parlor.

You let Yeosang look at the various flavors on display. “Before anything, I’m paying.” You remind him. It’s how determined you are to repay his kindness that produces a light laugh from him.

“Very well.” He returns his attention to the display, pondering on his options for the moment. “I’ll get the injeolmi and red bean in a cup. Two scoops please?” He asks. He stays by your side as you order, curious by the other flavors. If he remembers right, San loves the mint chocolate with the popping candy.

As you wait for your turn, your phone buzzes with a message.

[ Wooyoung to You ] How are you?

You smile at his worry.

[ You to Wooyoung ] Cheeky_ryan.emoji

[ You to Wooyoung ] One of these days, you need to go here with me. It’s so pretty here.

[ You to Wooyoung ] Also buying ice cream right now hehe.

You pay for your orders, and let Yeosang choose a spot to sit for the next hour or so. You put your purchases right next to you as your lips widen into a giddy smile. It’s been a while since you last had ice cream too.

“Oh yeah. Now that we’ve settled in a good spot in this shop.” He hands you the same envelope that had the terrain you were in turmoil over earlier. “Consider it a gift.” He reasons when he sees how you were about to turn down such an offer. A smile of triumph brightens his entire face when he sees you give in to his request. You look cute sulking at him when you know you can’t turn down his offers. “The thing Seonghwa noticed, he’s got a good eye for jewelry.” It took eons for him to have such specialized sight but it’s been an asset since he could remember. “It’s something your mother gave you, yes?”

You show him the bracelet from your seat. “It’s an ancestral piece,” You admit. It’s the most watered down way you can explain without showing too much of yourself to someone. Since their death, you’ve become a lot more private about your family life when it pertains to them, but when it comes to your family life with Wooyoung you can easily talk about it. Here’s the kicker though, why were you so willing to share things with him?

Honestly, you didn’t know the whole name of the bracelet. You only vaguely remember it being called Aurora so that stuck with you until now. At night, the pearl shines brighter, when you use your cryo vision for whatever reason, the light inside the pearl pulsates. In a well lit room like where you are, it looks like an average pearl. It was one of the things your mother told you to hold dear before seeing them for the last time.

The male senses your inability to remember clearly along with your discomfort. A part of him reprimands himself for letting his desire to know get the better of him. You are your own person. He has to remind himself of this over and over. “You don’t have to tell me everything, I do respect your privacy.” He says softly.

“Yeosang?” You ask. The tone makes him stiffen, worried for having hurt you in such a short span of time.

“Yes?”

You prod at your ice cream for a moment, trying to find the words. “I mean, considering how historical the museum is. Has there been times where artworks have been stolen?” It was a valid question, most museums you know through the years have attempted thievery one way or another. Some works never find their way back home; you wondered if the same has happened to his museum.

“Oh of course.” There’s a bit of relief in hearing you shift the conversation. A little bit of dread since this is a difficult thing to deal with. “Before I became the head, a group did an art heist. Around ten works were stolen, until now we don’t know where they are.”

This somehow surprises you. You know how tight the security is in that museum even without knowing Yeosang’s hand in the museum, the security there was rather strict too. “What?”

“Yes, a number of works that are considered rarities were stolen. Not a lot of people know that these artists did such works either.” Under the jurisdiction of his predecessor, they kept the frames of the missing works up, hoping that one day they’ll get them back. Yeosang knows otherwise at this point. “Truthfully speaking, I have my doubts they’ll return in one piece if at all.” Yeosang continues. “It’s been decades, if I remember right, since those works were stolen.” Artworks gone for decades usually end up in the same place one way or another. If they’re lucky, they know where it is. The only problem is revealing how they know and why they know, usually.

As he tells you about the works, you search them up on your phone. These are works centuries before you were born only to be stolen decades before your birth. Despite the time difference, the impact it left on the art world seems to be immense. It explains the growing levels of security in museums around the world, among many other things.

“How do you know of these artworks? I haven’t heard of them.”

“With the people I work with, I have to know information like this.” Well that makes sense but why does he talk of these works as if he’s seen them?

“But, it’s been...what.. Decades? Since it’s been seen, how is your memory that clear?” The way he describes it as you look at the painting on your phone, you pick up on details you would have missed but there’s something in his words that tells you something more.

He stares at you, sweat already forming at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with a logical excuse. “I have the records, also the internet gives us the nearest accurate rendering of the paintings.” He explains, gesturing to your phone screen that displays one of the mentioned works.

He’s got a point and you drop the topic. After a few more minutes of looking at the painting, you turn away from your phone, shifting your attention to your ice cream and to him.

“The Ninth Wave by Ivan Aivazovksy”

“Judith Beheading Holofornes by Artemisia.. I don’t know how to pronounce her last name..” It was a little embarrassing that you didn’t know how to pronounce these names but you couldn’t really help but love the work.

That was something he didn’t expect. He looks up the work you mentioned, along with the artist’s name, wanting to avoid possible confusion. “Ah, this work?” He asks, as he shows you his phone. At the sight of the work, you nod shyly but the spark in your eyes overpowers the bashful nature on your cheeks. He gives it a good look for a moment or two, studying what he can from such a small screen. The blood in the work’s dynamic, actively spurting out from the male’s neck while the women wrestle to keep him down to finish the act. The women don’t look disgusted by the action at all, rather they look determined. “Why so?” It’s uncommon but not rare, for people to like works that were rather morbid. He just didn’t take you to be someone to appreciate works like this.

You gnaw on your spoon for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Truthfully, you find it a little embarrassing to admit that this is your favorite work, not things like The Milkmaid by Vermeer or something more calming. “Uh, well,” you start off. “It’s not everyday really, that I see works made by women. Especially with the subject being someone who’s determined even in doing something morbid.” The reason behind the painting was just as violent, but could’ve been cathartic to the artist herself. To you, you want to do the same to those who have hurt you and your family. But hey, who would talk about that the first time they hang out right? “What about you?” You shift the topic almost immediately. “Why The Ninth Wave?”

Yeosang takes this moment to think for a moment or two, wondering what he should say. “Well,” he starts before scooping a small mouthful of the ice cream. “Seeing the ocean be so dynamic isn’t an everyday thing.” He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a moment before continuing. “People tend to forget that the ocean while giving, can take. We’re at its mercy, whether we like it or not. It’s a good reminder I suppose, that we’re not as invincible as we think we are.”

You look closer at the artwork. It’s a handful of men, clinging onto what looks like planks of wood as they face a wave that looks tamed. You wonder why it’s called the Ninth Wave, seeing that the painting was washed with soft pinks, warm bright yellows and various shades of blues and greens. It looks much more peaceful than the description Yeosang gave.

“A little ironic isn’t it?” He muses. A sheen of blue glowing softly in his eyes as he watches you study the painting with confusion. “You see, it’s an old sailing expression that means that another wave is coming. After the previous eight that were already big, the ninth one coming, much bigger than the last eight. The worst has yet to come but storm through it and then there will be peace.” He gestures to the faint wave just by the line of horizon. Indeed there’s still one more but the skies promise peace should they get through it.

You jolt in your chair when you see what time it is. You’re hoping Wooyoung’s already asleep back in the apartment. “I’m sorry, but I have to head home. It’s already late and I usually open the shop early.” You explain as you stand up. Yeosang looks at you with alarm as you nearly stumble from the rush.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“What?”

“It’s late isn’t it? Going home alone isn’t safe, I’ll drive you home.”

--------

That’s how you ended up in his car, breezing through the wide streets as you direct him to where you live. “You don’t have the app?” You ask him as your eyes dart from building to building. You’ve been so used to using the trains and walking that you don’t really spend time looking up to see the bright signages and other restaurants. More things to explore in the future, perhaps.

“What app?” Yeosang asks as he weaves through corners and light traffic. You take that as a cue to explain to him that there’s this app that tells you where to go when traffic in the main roads are too heavy or when an accident has happened to be aware of and the like. All of this while you eat what’s left of your ice cream. Though you did have to explain as well that while you don’t see any use for the app, Wooyoung’s workmate, Yunho, uses it and it’s been helpful for him when he oversleeps.

Yeosang chortles at the reasoning. “Well, I might use that app then despite not being the type to oversleep.” He spots your apartment building, based on your descriptions earlier. “I suppose that is your place?” He looks around. This seems to be a few stops away from your coffee shop. The more he learns, he supposes.

You sent Wooyoung a quick text saying you’d be home in five minutes should he still be awake. “Yes! That’s the building, you can just drop me off here.” You say as you look out the window to make sure there weren't any cars coming so you could hop off.

“I’ll drive you there, just sit tight.” He reassures. The drive was smooth, stopping just by the entrance of the apartment complex with a pleasant smile. “At least I can tell San that I can still make a drive be pleasant.” At his words, you raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “Another story for another time, I’ll see you again soon I hope?” He asks.

“Of course.” You return as you hop off the car. “Stay safe please?” You ask, as you wave at him. He shoots you this smile, and it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. Too much that you have to remind yourself that the two of you are just friends, that regretting not having given him a kiss is not very friend-like. You watch him drive off until you can’t see the car anymore, by then you head inside back to the safety of your own abode.

--------

He arrives home, his mind still replaying the way you looked so flustered before he left. You were lovely in his eyes, that much he can admit. He tosses the keys on to the table. His coat shrugged off and hung somewhere. Coming home to an empty apartment after being with company and bright lights is a little disorienting. Maybe he should really invest in softer lighting for his home. He switches the lights on, and heaves a tired sigh. It’s been a long day but it was a fun one. Should he consider having you and Wooyoung room with him here? Granted, he already has a room for San whenever he’s in the mood for company as well. It’s been a ritual for him as well to let his place become a haven for those who have been injured through out the years. Perhaps that’s another thought for another day.

As he prepares himself a cup of tea, he goes through the current happenings around him. It was a little alarming that reports of crime were shooting up, some of which bearing certain similarities that he hopes the officials catch soon. The crimes reported haven’t changed regardless of the presence of a god’s protection. He’ll also have to talk to the security in the museum to keep anything from being stolen.

This reminds him to check on any emails concerning the museum and their upcoming events. Most of them were updates of planned exhibitions with other museums outside the country, along with events in partnership with brands in the country. It was rather tiresome really, same routine with every museum, every shop, anything to keep the museum running in ethical ways. Though he wonders how the gardens in the museum are coming along, the seasons are slowly changing and this means that some plants will have to be changed in order to keep up with appearances and health.

His cup of tea was finally ready when he remembered to send you a message.

[ Yeosang to You ] Hey, I’m finally home. I had fun today :)

No less than five minutes did you manage to return the text.

[ You to Yeosang ] I’m glad, I had fun too~ Sleep well!

He finds himself smiling at your reply as he takes a sip. He had a feeling that tonight, he’ll be able to sleep well.

Unknown to him and the rest of the staff, a small bud was already growing.

--------

“I got a proposition for you.”

Whenever Wooyoung has those words come out of his mouth, you were sure it wasn’t a good idea. Regardless of the fear, you entertain his thoughts. “And what is it?” You ask, your focus on the ceramic mug that you dry in your hands.

“What if I work with you here?” You were thankful for your reflexes for not falling lax at such an offer. The idea of Wooyoung working with you was okay to put it nicely but there was an important question you had to raise.

“Why?” You ask him as you keep the clean mug away. It was a Wednesday, which meant business runs slow. This is also the reason as to why Wooyoung was in your shop and not at home catching up on sleep.

“For starters, you work alone.” He says, raising his pointer finger. “Two, you’re practically dating Yeosang by now.” He raises his middle finger and it takes all your will power to not freeze his fingers off his hand. “Three, I want to help you with your work.” You admit, he’s got a good heart but you still want to freeze his hand off.

“Do I have time to think about this?” You ask, keeping an eye on the students who seem to be preparing for a final just a few tables away from you.

“Well, yeah you do cause you pretty much call the shots in this place.” Wooyoung returns with a shrug. “It’s just an offer.” he reminds you. “Oh yeah, is Yeosang coming today?”

You eye him in confusion. “I hope so..? Why?”

“Hope so, huh.” He repeats, a smug grin on his lips.

At his teasings, you let a rush of icy wind brush past the back of his neck, cold enough that snowflakes appear when he touches the skin. “We’re not dating! And yes, i do hope he comes in today or at least I think he will?” He didn’t really send you any message that says he won’t be able to make it today so you were rather confused. Then again, he and Yeosang have started to become good friends as well. San, though impressed, was just as alarmed considering how mischievous Wooyoung could get.

“It’s nice to see Yeosang make friends outside his work. I’m glad you and Wooyoung came along.” San said as he watches Yeosang fall for Wooyoung’s jokes and tricks.

You on the other hand, were behind the counter, cleaning up the coffee machines. The high pitched laughter echoing in the room countered by embarrassed chuckles and feeble attempts to defend themselves. “You think so?” You ask.

San catches onto your light hearted sarcasm and giggles. “Yeah. Guess you can say, you kind of opened him up to a world beyond what he knew. He’s been insistent in learning trends.” He continues. “Oh and don’t tell him i told you but he also wants to learn how you make your coffee. He can never get it like you do. Don’t be surprised if he ends his work early just to ask you to teach him how to make coffee.”

By then the two of you knew it was Yeosang’s way of spending time with you whenever work allowed the two of you to do so.

“Not dating yet.” He takes the extra effort to emphasize the ‘yet’. “Kid, I’m telling you,” he continues, not paying any mind to the lasers that shoot out of your eyes due to being called a Kid. “The two of you are going to date sooner or later.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, San enters the premises. You stand up straight to welcome him just like any other customer but by now you also know his usual order. “Usual order?” You ask him, already ready to write his order on his cup.

He shoots the two of you a cheeky smile. “Yeah, for me and Yeosang.'' The cheeky smile turns a little bashful now as he eyes the treats on display. “Can I also get the lavender blueberry sponge cake, two slices, to go? Yeosang’s been stressed with meetings today.”

Hearing this, your eyebrows furrow in concern. “Would tea be better for him then?”

The male shakes his head. “Coffee might do him better for his work. If we got time to come by later, then yeah give him tea.” You and Wooyoung look at each other, slightly alarmed and worried for him but the explanation will come for another time.

“Sure thing. “ With the payments out of the way, San and Wooyoung catch up as you prepare his orders.

“Something up?” Wooyoung asks, rather worried to see San be this concerned for Yeosang and also look just as stressed.

San takes this moment to take a deep breath and deflate in his seat. “Some of the sponsors are being illogical along with some logistical problems for upcoming exhibitions so all of us are pressed for time and resources.” He runs his fingers through his hair, already tousled by the amount of times he’s been doing the same motion since this morning. “On top of that, a break in just happened near the museum so security measures have been heightened.” San says under his breath, not wanting anyone to overhear that statement.

Wooyoung looks at him in alarm, then looks at his phone for any updates on their area. He wonders if leaving you alone would be a good idea at this rate. “There’s nothing yet on social media..” He mutters, still concerned for you.

“The media’s on their way to cover the situation so give it around ten minutes.” San explains, by then you arrive at the table with his orders packed up for him to pick up and go.

“Tell Yeosang, I said hi?” You say as you watch the two of them, sensing the tension in the air. “Something wrong?”

San shakes his head for now. “Just the usual work stuff, thanks for the food, I have to get going now.” He picks up the bag and bids the two of you farewell. “I’ll send your regards as well.” He says before running out the door.

You glance at Wooyoung and he shows his phone to you. “Besides stressful work issues, a break in happened nearby so their stress hasn’t been anything nice.” You read through the news article: nothing valuable was taken but everything’s in disarray. Though the museum’s a little further down the road from the break in, and further away from your shop, you’re a little worried for your own shop’s security as well. You also know how protective Wooyoung is of you.

“Fine, you can work with me in this shop, your shift’s gonna depend on your availability as well since I know you have to create choreographies and teach them.” You state. He smiles a little too triumphantly this time, mostly due to the relief of knowing you’re safe and because he can keep you company as well. “This also means I have to teach you how to work these machines…” You note with a sigh, you were never confident in your teaching skills.

“Hey don’t lose faith in me. I pick up quickly, don’t I?” Wooyoung croons with a proud smile.

“Do you have a shift today in the studio?” You ask as you look through the cabinets.

“No why?” The answer to his question is an apron tossed in his direction.

“Good, I’m teaching you today then, get your butt over here,”

--------

The two of you crash onto the chairs after a long day of working. Wooyoung glances over at you as he rubs his sore muscles, wondering how you’re able to do this day in and day out, all alone. You don’t seem to be as fazed as he is, as all you do is stretch in your seat. “How do you do this on your own?” Wooyoung asks, now that it’s only the two of you in the shop.

“I have to.” You say simply. It’s rare for Wooyoung to hear you complain as well. This was something you wanted after all. The only complaints he hears from you are usually just muscle pain that he helps ease, and the occasional horror customer. Besides the occasional pet discussion, he never hears you complain over how hard your job is. Meanwhile, he always complains about his. Not that you minded them, some of them are rather valid. He was simply the type to externally process what happened before being able to move on.

He catches you often looking towards the door, in hopes of seeing Yeosang. “He hasn’t said anything yet huh?” He asks, a little sad for you as well. He knows how much you look forward to seeing him, even if you don’t say anything about it.

You shake your head, your phone’s been silent the entire day and with San’s explanation, it makes sense why he’d be busy. Maybe you can send him a message? But wouldn’t that disrupt his work?

“Just send it.” Wooyoung says, hanging his legs over the arm rest. Well, at least it’s not his shoes against the arm rest. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Were you that transparent in his eyes?

You shoot him a pout but take out your phone. You didn’t think he’d send you a message now.

[ Yeosang to You ] Still in the shop?

“He just messaged me, asking if I’m still in the shop.” You say, blinking at the message, slightly surprised.

“Well, you are so let him in.” Wooyoung says, eyeing the door. The mentioned guy was standing outside the shop, clearly exhausted from a long day. His words confuse you as you still gaze at the phone screen so he takes the honor to unlock the door to let the man in, then lock it once more. “Didn’t think you’d be able to drop by after what San told us.” Your friend notes, noting the loosened tie. He wonders just how much he had to go through today.

It’s only by the time the wind chimes chirp of someone’s entrance that you look up from your phone. The man responsible for the weird heart racing you’ve been getting is in front of you but instead of letting out your frustrations, you heave a sigh of relief to see him alive in one piece. “You’re lucky we haven’t closed the place for the day.”

“Not like they could until they saw you.” Your best friend cuts in much to Yeosang’s delight.

“I see Wooyoung’s now working for you?” Yeosang says, as he takes a seat on the stool next to your table. A soft groan slips from his lips as he finally feels peace after a tiring day.

“Do you want anything?” Wooyoung offers, as you watch the two of them banter in front of you. You let Wooyoung take the lead for his order this time, wanting to see just how much he has picked up today.

“Earl grey tea-- do you guys still have a vanilla macaron?” Yeosang throws back as he removes his blazer, folding it over his arms.

“Gotcha.” He says simply, already getting to work.

“It’s on me.” You tell him as you slip towards the stool across him. He takes the chance to hold your hand, holding it close to his lips.

“I apologize for the late arrival, my dear. Work was not merciful today.” He mumbles softly against your skin. “I was looking forward to seeing you today at a preferably earlier time.” His voice clearly carried the stress of unexpected problems that you wonder what else went wrong after San’s visit. Wooyoung comes back with his order, already pulling up another stool to listen to Yeosang’s woes. “I won’t stay too long today, it’s been a long day and I’m sure the two of you had a busy day.” It was a little worrisome to see him try to keep his stress to a minimum when it’s already clearly nearing the limits. You wonder how much he kept from you the past few weeks.

You don’t notice the look Wooyoung gives you at how intimate you and Yeosang look. Your eyes are on Yeosang the entire time, his free hand taking a sip of the tea, tension in his shoulders easing at the warmth of the tea spreads around him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask carefully.

He shakes his head. “For another time, I promise I will fill you in on them.” He says. He opens his eyes after a while, and it shocks you how vividly blue his eyes are. They weren’t the striking ice blue the foreigners have, rather it’s a deep blue. The blue that reminds you of how vast and deep the world you live in is, you don’t know why that came into your mind but it did. But, why does it feel so familiar? “Are the two of you done cleaning for today?” He asks all of a sudden. The two of you look around and the only thing left was to take out the trash.

“Just need to take the trash out then we’re done for the day.”

“How will the two of you head home?”

Wooyoung and you look at each other, surprised by the question. “Well, we just take the train.” His eyes darken just a bit and you want to ask Wooyoung so badly if you’re seeing things. He shakes his head.

“That won’t do. The two of you can ride with me on the way home tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” The two friends ask at the same time, much to Yeosang’s amusement.

“It’s late, though I trust and know that the two of you can protect yourselves.” He starts, gesturing at the visions the two of you carry. “But it is late, the recent crimes have been spiking. Let me pay back your kindness through this at least.” He wasn’t leaving any room to sway his decision so the two of you take his offer. This time you take the responsibility to throw out the trash, the two of them waiting for you by the door.

You wonder what has been going on nowadays for them to be this worried. Frankly, while you were touched by such concern, you were also frustrated. You know how to protect yourself with or without your vision. You’re not the same helpless child that saw the atrocities of this world. Busy in your thoughts, you don’t see a figure keeping an eye on you from a distance. Just as you look at their direction, it disappears. The familiar feeling of dread doesn’t leave, it lingers and it makes your skin crawl. Quietly, you coat your hands with a thin sheet of ice as you make your way back to the two.

“You okay?” Wooyoung asks, noticing how alert you’ve become. He sees the ice around your fists and already he’s on high alert, looking around. Yeosang too notices the frost forming around your skin and wonders what you have encountered.

“Let’s go.” He simply states, making sure that you were walking next to him and Wooyoung. The way your features became so cloudy was a concern but he’ll have to ask Wooyoung for more information for another day. What matters now is your safety.

--------

It’s only in the safety of his car that Wooyoung starts to freak out again over how loaded Yeosang is. Maintenance for this car model isn’t easily affordable, especially for its size. Did you understand anything of what Wooyoung has been talking about? Vaguely. Yet Yeosang manages to answer everything with ease that you wonder just how much he knows beyond art, and history.

On the other hand, The ice around your fists has melted into puddles at your feet. “Sorry for the mess..” You say under your breath. Yeosang doesn’t miss a beat about it, saying that they’re rubber so it’s nothing that can be easily cleaned. His tea was already finished by the time the three of you were near your apartment.

Honestly, if his work hadn’t let him off so late, he could’ve already asked the question already but he’ll have to wait until he arrives outside your apartment. “He knows where we live?” Wooyoung asks, realizing that you didn’t have to give him directions.

“Yeah, he brought me home after our hangout last time, so I just directed him.”

He takes pride in his clear memory, smiling to himself as he can already picture the bashful smile of yours as Wooyoung looks at the two of you incredulously. “So when are you guys going to be officially dating?”

The question causes your heart to race once more, despite your calm exterior. Yeosang as well, appears composed. Yet, the shock of Wooyoung’s honesty can be felt in the car. “Well.” Yeosang speaks up. “That depends on our dear, here, if they would be okay with it.” Just in time, the car slows down to a stop outside your apartment complex.

You face Yeosang, with your heart beating fast, your hands feel cold even without the frost. “I-I’d like that.” You manage to sputter out.

“Thank heavens.” Wooyoung exclaims, eyeing the two of you like the relief of an impatient sibling.

“Can I fancy you to a date soon?” Yeosang says as he unlocks the car, giving Wooyoung the chance to look away from such an exchange.

Ever the cheeky guy, he stays and waits for your answer.

“I’d like that.” You repeat softly, you couldn’t believe yourself for being able to speak up after such a shocking twist of events.

“Lovely, I’ll update you then.” Yeosang promises, waving the two of you a good night.

Wooyoung then hooks his arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back into the safety of your apartment. “About time, the two of you became a thing, he keeps asking me how to properly court you.” He says much to your flustered state.

Will you be able to sleep tonight?

--------

On the way home, Yeosang’s phone rings. It’s San.

“Hello? I’m driving. Can this wait?”

“Depends, are you at a red light or not?” San asks. When San’s voice goes that deep, it’s serious. He eyes the stop light.

“53 seconds.”

“The officials found a symbol on the break in. They don’t know what it is yet but gave us a copy in case we see it somewhere.”

49.

“What is it?” Already, Yeosang feels his blood rush to his ears.

“It’s a severed triquetra symbol.” San doesn’t have to say anything else anymore after that as Yeosang lets out a growl.

It seems they’ve returned. The question is why. “I’ll be home by 5 minutes. 20 seconds on the red light. I’ll call you.” WIth that he hangs up, in time for the red light to turn green. While people forget the events, he doesn’t.

It’s been so long since the Abyss has acted up. The last being a few thousand years back. The last few immortals like him and San remember their deeds. The Abyss was responsible for a battle he had to fight that wiped out a huge land mass in the region he now resides in.

The question that disturbs him: Who or what are they looking for? Because as far as his memory remembers, they stop at nothing to get what they want.

--------

A field.

This is the second time you’ve been here. Around you were plants that you don’t see everyday, in fact some of these look very odd to you. As you look around, hoping to make sense of this dream, you see someone dipping their feet into the clear water.

Just as you approach them, they stand up. It was hard to make out what gender they were: the clothes hang onto them like water slowly freezing, nor did they carry any feature that could separate a man from a woman. They smile at you, as if they’ve been expecting you this entire time. “It’s nice to see you.” They say, voice soft and calming.

“Apologies for not introducing myself, I’m Aos. I’m sorry I didn’t make myself known a little sooner.” They say. The apology doesn’t make any sense to you as you continue to gaze at them.

Despite them having introduced themselves to you, the name still doesn’t ring a bell. They don’t seem fazed at all to see your questioning eyes on them, in fact, they chuckle lightly at how confused you look. You manage to get a better look of their eyes and it reminds you of the sky when the sun is barely above the horizon. “What’s happening?” You manage to ask after getting yourself out of your trance.

“Nothing really. This is just me reaching out to you and giving you my blessing.” Again, the figure speaks in riddles. The last time they did was when Wooyoung’s family took you in, shortly after you were given your vision. You wonder what was going to happen this time.

The world around you loses its color for a split second and neither of you miss this slip up. “It seems that you’ll wake soon. I won’t make this any longer then, this might be our last meeting. Take care of yourself” The color around you fades into greys and whites, yet they don’t. The way they bid you farewell, reminds you too much of your mother and it makes your eyes hot.

“When you get the chance, tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

Before you could make some sort of sense, you feel someone shaking you awake. “Hey.” Wooyoung’s voice rouses you awake, and you don’t miss the concern in his voice. “You were crying in your sleep.” He states, seeing how dazed your eyes are as you try to look around, startled.

That’s when you notice that you were holding onto your bracelet while sleeping, and he was right. Your pillow felt damp with your tears. “Weird dream.” You groan out as you wake yourself up for another day.

Your phone flashes at 6:30AM, why did Wooyoung wake you up earlier than usual? It’s only then that you realize that it was raining once more. Couldn’t you get a few more minutes of shut eye after such a weird dream? The groggy feeling takes a little longer to shake off but you eventually get yourself out of bed.

--------

“What’s your plan today?” At least you are finally looking a little more presentable as you enter the living room.

“Choreography teaching for an idol group this morning until afternoon. I can close up the shop for you if you got plans today.” Wooyoung says, teasing you a little now that you’re more awake.

It’s not hard to miss out on what he insinuates with such that you roll your eyes at him. “It’s not today yet,” referring to your date, “but I need to visit a few shops to buy some ingredients and other stuff by 5PM.” You had plans of opening the shop a little later the following day, wanting to change the interiors even by just a bit. That and having to stay up later than usual to bake and experiment with new recipes was starting to catch up with you.

“Yeah I can take over by then. I’ll be at the shop by 4:30.” Wooyoung promises. He might have to be a little stricter today to get things finished quickly but the group he’s teaching today are quick learners. He can see so much potential in them too.

You flash a grateful smile as you eat. “Your overtime’s covered, I promise.” From this, Wooyoung hops around in glee. Of course, he was eyeing a new clothing line.

A glance at the time and you figured you should get moving. “I’ll see you later then. I need to start moving.” You say standing up from your seat.

“Lunch is by the counter!” He calls out from his seat as he watches you get your things and shoot out the door. With him now on his own, he lets out a sigh. He heard your mumblings earlier and those were the same words you muttered after you were gifted with your vision. Even when you looked put together for the day, there was still a hint of confusion in your eyes that you can’t quite hide from him. Whatever it is, he hopes things will turn out a little better this time.

--------

“Can we do three more runs after a five minute water break?” Wooyoung asks, sympathizing with the boys as they’re now drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. After the chorus of agreements, he lets the boys off for a few minutes and decides to check on you and Yeosang.

[ Wooyoung to You ] How’s work?

[ Wooyoung to Yeosang ] What’s up? Are you gonna drop by later?

It’s only Yeosang who manages to reply immediately.

[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] There have been better days, but I will be alright. Yes I will be there later.

Seeing that you haven’t replied yet, he just chalks it up to rush hour. The boys enter the room and he puts his phone down. “Ready?” He asks just as he’s about to press play, he sees Yunho peeking into the studio. “Uh, give me a moment. Hyunjae, can you clean the choreo slowly while I’m gone? I’ll make it quick.” The male excuses himself to check on his peer, quietly leaving the studio. “What’s up?”

“Did their manager tell you of the changes to the schedule?” Yunho asks and by the way Wooyoung looks at him with wide eyes and that already tells him what he needs to know.

“Tomorrow or the day after will be the shooting day.” With such information being told to him, he panics a little, unsure if he has clothes that could fit a recording for this. He probably does but he’ll need your help assembling it.

“Okay, uh, forward the email to me and cc it to Popsicle.” Somehow the nickname doesn’t faze Yunho, already knowing well that he meant you. It’s not like there were a lot of cryo vision holders anyway. Yunho shoots him an okay signal and Wooyoung takes this as a sign to head back to his work. “Okay, let’s take it to the top? 3 runs at 100% energy then we can eat lunch.” He says as he enters the studio once more. The proposed plan instills a little bit of fear on the boys but he continues on. “No worries, there’ll be a break in between before going at it again.”

Beneath the calm demeanor he had for the boys right now, he was slightly panicking for his schedule in the next few days. He hopes you wouldn’t mind him being MIA for a day or two.

Wooyoung’s schedule has turned a little more hectic now thanks to the sudden update of the shooting. Not that he minds since at least he’s not at home whenever he’s not needed in the studio. If it means helping lessen the stress on you and keeping you safe then he doesn’t really mind it.

Though, he doesn’t know if you’ve been keeping an eye on the news lately. You still carry on with your day like normal. If he has a shift in the dance studio, he asks Yeosang or San to accompany you to the studio, no matter how many times you reassure that it’s okay for you to walk alone, either one of them is adamant about it.

He spares a glance at the clock as he watches the boys dance. The four hours will fly by quickly.

--------

“Yeosang, you might have to skip on meeting with them today.” Part 3

#yeosang fanfiction #my writings #ateez fanfiction #ateez scenarios #yeosang scenarios #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years

Text

Here we come with day two of pegoryu week, and it's gonna be the last one I post on time. I'll still be trying, don't get me wrong, I'm just not the kind of person who can write a fic I'm happy with in one day.

Yet.

As always, bulk of the fic is under a cut, link is in the reblogs, and I will daydream of baking you cookies if you share it.

“I did warn you.”

“Not even an arcade, dude?”

“Not unless you wanna get on a train for forty minutes.”

“Ugh. Laaaaame.”

After nearly a month of planning, Ryuji was visiting his boyfriend for Golden Week. One whole month of bargaining with all of their parents, putting aside every last yen they could spare, studying their asses off to earn the trip, and, of course, long phone conversations that were probably about eighty percent “I miss you”s and “I love you”s and “I can’t wait to see you”s. With Akira’s help via video call study sessions, Ryuji even managed to get into the top thirty percent of the class in their latest exams; a new record for him that effectively guaranteed the visit. But they’d been so busy celebrating and planning getting him out to the country that they may have completely forgotten to figure out what they were actually going to do when he got there. So now they were on the Kurusus’ living room couch, Akira cross-legged on one end and Ryuji stretched out across the rest with his head on his boyfriend’s lap, trying to scrape together a date idea.

“I’ll say it again. I warned you. Several times,” Akira repeated while he ran a hand through Ryuji’s hair. “There’s nothing to see here.” Ryuji caught Akira’s free hand, tangled their fingers together, and kissed the back of his hand.

“Yeah there is. You’re here, so I say it’s worth it.” Ryuji grinned as his boyfriend turned pink at the tips of his ears and wrinkled his nose.

“Sap,” Akira grumbled like there wasn’t a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Like they both didn’t know full well how much he liked hearing how happy Ryuji was that they were together, in every sense of the word.

“You love me,” Ryuji said, his grin widening just a little further. Akira’s expression melted into something almost embarrassingly soft as he went back to playing with his boyfriend’s hair. He curled and combed his fingers gently through the short strands, and huffed out a quiet laugh as Ryuji went boneless when he grazed his nails over his scalp.

“Yeah. I really do,” Akira sighed happily and got another kiss pressed to his knuckles. “You’re kind of my hero, you know.” It was something he’d tried to make a habit of telling his boyfriend, even before they were dating. Ryuji still sputtered and objected like it was his first time hearing it.

“You-- I-- that ain’t…” He sat up and shoved a pillow into Akira’s face with a groan. “Now who’s the sap?”

Akira draped himself across Ryuji’s shoulders and planted a kiss on the side of his neck, then smiled against his skin at the shiver that got. “You just have that effect on me, sunshine.” Ryuji grunted in response. “You like it.” Another grunt. Akira blew a puff of air at the back of Ryuji’s ear and laughed when he got swatted away. “Don’t pout. You were right, a date sounds nice. But you gotta help me figure it out.”

His boyfriend sprawled back out on the couch after pouting for a few more seconds, then looked up at him with those big brown eyes he’d been a sucker for since day one.

“Aight, what kind of food you got around here?” Akira could have been exasperated at his boyfriend’s predictability, but a dinner date was more feasible than a movie date, and a lot more pleasant than a gym date. He may have loved Ryuji Sakamoto with all his heart, but he didn’t plan on running again on the regular unless it was for his damn life.

“There’s only like ten places total around here. We’ve already visited three, two of them won’t serve me because the owners don’t like me anymore--”

Ryuji’s head jerked up at that, knocking Akira’s hand free. It was ridiculous how cute the guy was when he was offended. “What?! Why the hell not?”

Akira shrugged and went back to petting Ryuji’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. “Didn’t exactly bother to ask, but probably my record. Cleared of charges or not, my reputation mutated while I was gone and I haven’t really been able to fix it.” Not that he’d tried very hard when he didn’t plan on staying for even a second longer than necessary.

The frown that wrinkled Ryuji’s features was almost comical, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at while he was already agitated. Especially when it was on Akira’s behalf. “Ugh, this town sucks, can’t wait to get you out of here. Wait, only probably your record? Why else would they dislike you?”

Akira huffed out another laugh, wry and joyless this time. “My uncle’s a pretty conservative guy, I heard he didn’t react well when he found out I was dating some guy from the city.” Quite literally heard it; he’d been getting ready to visit his cousin and could hear the old man shouting inside the house from the sidewalk. He’d opted to text Yuuta to meet up somewhere well away from their house instead when that happened. And, naturally, the news had mysteriously spread to the rest of town by the end of that week.

Ryuji sat bolt upright and twisted back around to face Akira with a scowl. “Your own effin’ family won’t serve you? What the hell?!” His expression was thunderous, made worse by the doomcloud over his head when he asked. Ryuji almost never got pulled into fights these days and was very proud of that fact--they both were--but Akira was certain that he was ready to deck the old man on sight on his behalf. He’d never encourage it, but the thought still made something in his chest swell a little.

“Just my uncle when I try to sit in. If it’s my aunt or my cousin taking delivery calls, they’ll still take the order. Plus a discount and extra desserts, if Yuuta’s the one who answers.” Akira shrugged, then tugged at Ryuji’s shirt to coax him into laying back down in his lap. He did, albeit begrudgingly, and Akira went back to running his hands soothingly through that remarkably soft shock of bright blond hair. “Anyways, the other five restaurants in town are fast food that you could get back home. So…” He trailed off and watched Ryuji’s scowl soften into an annoyed frown.

“Yeah, pass.” Ryuji closed his eyes, either to think or soak up Akira’s touch as he played with his hair, then cracked one eye open after a moment. “How ‘bout a picnic? You’re a pretty good cook and I bet we could find us a nice spot to just chill.”

That... was a pretty solid idea. Actually, that sounded perfect, and Akira knew exactly the spot for them to set up. He opened his mouth to agree, but was cut off by a low rumble of thunder outside. “...Maybe later this week? The weather should clear up before you have to go,” he said instead. Ryuji pouted up at the ceiling, or more likely up at the sky beyond it for ruining his brilliant plan. Then it was Akira’s turn to pout when Ryuji abruptly sat back up out of reach, but not for long.

The next thing he knew, he was being crowded up against the arm of the couch by one blond bombshell of an ex-track star. Ryuji was suddenly determined to pour himself into his boyfriend’s lap, all mischief and heat as he crawled across the couch towards Akira. He couldn’t think clearly while facing down that wicked grin curving across Ryuji’s face like Haru’s favorite battleaxe cleaving through the air. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d made out. It wouldn’t even be the first time Ryuji had taken the initiative and left Akira a flustered wreck when they did. But since it had been over a month since the last time he’d seen that look face to face, it was having more of an effect than usual, and Akira was left frantically trying to cling to his cool.

“I have an idea, babe.” Ryuji said lowly and Akira’s mouth went dry. Hands bracketed Akira’s hips on the couch as his boyfriend crept closer. “Y’wanna hear it?” Akira nodded and felt heat flare across his skin when he realized Ryuji was keeping that hooded, heated gaze fixed firmly on his lips. “Since your folks ain’t supposed to be back before tomorrow afternoon,” Ryuji’s tone was as light as his body was heavy as he straddled Akira and looped strong arms around his neck, “I was thinkin’ maybe… we could…” Akira was desperately trying to focus on the words being whispered into his ear over his boyfriend kissing his way up his neck and leaving his skin prickling in the wake of every touch.

“Y-yeah?” He couldn’t help the nervous flutter in his stomach. If Ryuji was implying what he thought he was implying... They hadn’t done… that... yet. Even with the house to themselves all day, they hadn’t actually talked about it, in part because Akira hadn’t even thought about it seriously yet. That nervous flutter hadn’t subsided and was starting to feel a little more like an anxious lurch.

Ryuji continued, oblivious to his boyfriend’s nerves with his face tucked against his neck. “We could maybe…” Akira’s hands flexed involuntarily around Ryuji’s hips. He didn’t dislike the idea, just-- His unsteady train of thought was thrown off again when soft lips brushed over his ear. “...watch One Piece together?” After a beat where Akira was left blinking stupidly for several seconds, Ryuji sat back on his legs with a grin that had gone from sultry to shit-eating on a dime. Oh. Okay, he could handle that. “I gotta get you caught up to me, plus I wanna see how much we can get through in one sitting.”

“...you’re truly a romantic for the ages, sunshine,” Akira responded flatly as his heart rate slowly returned to normal. He was teasing back now, because honestly that idea sounded just as good as the picnic, with a lot less effort to set up.

“I know,” he answered confidently, but his smile slipped a little. “Is that a no? I just thought maybe I could buy us dinner from your shitty uncle, and we can cuddle while we take advantage of that big TV with the fancy sound system.” Ryuji gestured hopefully to the flatscreen behind them that was nearly as big as Akira’s bed back at Leblanc.

“Sounds good. Netflix and chill, it is,” Akira declared. When he caught the way Ryuji’s smile and shoulders tightened slightly, he added, “y’know, in the most literal sense.” It wasn’t as though he was happy to see Ryuji nervous, but when his boyfriend relaxed at the reassurance, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that the two of them were on the same page as far as that was concerned.

---

Aki hadn’t been kidding when he said his cousin would hook them up. There was probably double what they’d ordered plus desserts in the bags the guy handed off.

“So, you must be the boyfriend, huh? He talks about you a lot. Y’know, for him.” Yuuta asked as he leaned on the doorway. Ryuji just grinned, because yes, that was him, he was The Boyfriend. Akira’s boyfriend. Akira’s boyfriend. It’d been months and Ryuji still got all giddy about it like it was brand new. Yuuta interrupted his thoughts when he called out past Ryuji to where Akira was sitting and watching TV, “Man, talk about punching above your weight!” Ryuji blushed and opened his mouth to object before Akira could start bragging on how amazing Ryuji was.

Apparently Akira had other plans, because before he could, two sharp whistles rang out behind Ryuji and he reacted basically on instinct. It was the signal Akira had always used to mean duck or you’ll get hit in the Metaverse, and Ryuji’s knees buckled with almost no input from his brain. He had just enough time to worry if he’d spilled the food--thankfully he hadn’t--when one of the couch throw pillows whiffed past his head and nailed Yuuta in the face.

“ACK! The fuck, dude?! See if I give you free dessert again, jackass,” the guy yelled and hucked the pillow back--and missed, from the sound of Akira’s laughter. Ryuji straightened up with a grin as Yuuta turned to him. “How the hell did you two even do that?”

“We’re just cool like that, I guess.” Ryuji shrugged. No need to explain how many times he’d accidentally taken a Lucky Punch or whatever in the back of the head because he got signals mixed up. “Seriously though, thanks for hookin’ us up, dude.” He held up the food and then added a little more quietly, “and, uh, thanks for havin’ Aki’s back while he’s here. It’s easier to not worry if I know there’s at least someone here talkin’ to him besides that damn cat.” That got a snort of laughter out of the delivery guy.

“No problem? I’d say obviously, ‘cause he’s family, but… Well, I’m sure he told you. Our family kinda sucks sometimes.” He frowned, shook his head, then brightened back up. “Anyways, sweet of you to worry. He really did luck out when he found you, huh?” Yuuta said as he stepped back from the door.

Ryuji shook his head. “You got it backwards, man. I’m the lucky one.” He turned back to where his boyfriend was watching TV, now fully absorbed in the show even if he didn’t really look like it. Ryuji couldn’t help the contented sigh that escaped him; he had his boyfriend again and he was going all in on one of Ryuji’s favorite things just because it was one of Ryuji’s favorite things, and it looked like he was actually enjoying it, too. When he turned back, Yuuta was halfway to his scooter, still loaded down with bags of food.

“You really believe that, huh?” He called back. “You keep that attitude, Sakamoto. Even when he’s bein’ a menace, alright? ‘Cause he’s a menace, but he’s my menace, and I’ll serve you up as dumplings if you hurt him!” The scooter rumbled to life and Yuuta added over the noise of the motor, “And you tell him the same thing. I like ya, so he’s gonna be the next lunch special if he’s an asshole to you!”

Ryuji waved in acknowledgment as he sped off, then closed the door and dropped the bag of takeout next to Akira. They paused the episode long enough to sort through the food; a double order of dumplings, pork miso for Akira, spicy vegetable ramen for Ryuji, ginger pork with rice that he was pretty sure they didn’t order at all, and half a goddamn cheesecake for them to split. It was an impressive spread that Akira was already calculating how much was going to be crammed into the fridge at the end of the night.

“Well. Anything we don’t finish tonight can go with us on the picnic?” He suggested as he started on his soup and turned the show back on. They hadn’t made it very far in just yet, and definitely had an uphill battle ahead of them.

Ryuji nodded, mouth already full of noodles. “Shoundsh good to me, dude.” Akira made a face at him like he always did when he talked around a mouth full of food, and Ryuji washed it down with some of the broth. “Family recipe?”

Akira hummed a confirmation around his own food, but paused to actually finish his bite. “Yup. Not as good as the place you took me, but I could just be biased.” Ryuji could hear the smirk in his voice that always cropped up when he was thinking about saying something sappy. Ryuji cut him off before he could, though. Butterflies wouldn’t leave much room in his stomach for ramen.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing. The Ogikubo thing, not the bias thing. Didn’t wanna offend, though.” Ryuji said and took another sizable bite. Even mediocre ramen was still pretty good in his opinion.

Akira chuckled. “Nah. Actually, the ramen there’s always been a little lackluster. I could’ve offered some advice to improve it once I got back, but now? Fuck that guy.”

Ryuji tried not to choke on his food with the laugh that threatened to escape. Scalding, spicy broth shooting out of your nose kinda sucked, especially if you got a noodle along with it. That was an experience he wasn’t keen on repeating. He swallowed down his bite and rasped, “could always pass it on to your cousin. He seems pretty cool when he ain’t threatenin’ to cook us.”

“Ah, you got the shovel talk, then--wait, us?” Akira nodded, but then froze partway and whipped his head around to Ryuji, who nodded in return after clearing his throat.

“Mhm. Said he likes me, ‘n if you break my heart you’re gonna be a lunch special,” Ryuji grinned.

“Asshole. He knows I can’t stand most of what’s in the rotation.” Akira grumbled and pouted into his soup. “What’d he threaten you with?”

“Dumplings.”

Akira’s eyebrows disappeared up into his bangs at that. “Damn, I think he likes you better than me. Uncle’s place is famous for its dumplings,” he explained as he picked the last bit of pork out of his bowl.

“I’m… honored? So is all your family this weird, or is it just you two?” Ryuji asked around another mouthful of noodles. The broth was definitely missing something, but the vegetables were pretty damn good; still pretty crisp but not undercooked. Good flavor on their own, prolly locally grown, too. “Also, how is a place in the middle of nowhere famous for anything?”

“Hey, we still have several other towns nearby, and folks will come here specifically for those dumplings. So you should be honored.” Akira huffed as he popped one of said dumplings in Ryuji’s mouth. Shit, it was pretty killer. Leagues better than his ramen. And of course his boyfriend looked as smug as Morgana when he caught the look on Ryuji’s face. “As for the weirdness? No idea. Around here it’s just me and Yuuta, but I don’t really know much about the ones that don’t live here. Might be because we’re in the middle of nowhere, might be because the ones who live here make a habit of cutting off any undesirables.” Aki shrugged and leaned up against Ryuji. “Maybe I’ll see if I can find any of them when I leave. I dunno.”

Ryuji leaned right back into him and planted a kiss against Aki’s temple, earning himself a pleased little hum from his boyfriend that he felt more than heard. “I’ll be right there with you if you do. I always got your back, babe.” Akira finished his soup and curled up against his side, tucked under one arm. It was nice, even if it meant now Ryuji had to figure out how to eat his ramen one-handed. Eh, he’d figure it out, it’s not like there was much left in the bowl anyway. “So, uh, earlier. You seemed a little tense when I was teasin’ you? And not like usual. I didn’t, like, push too much, did I?”

Akira had suddenly gone very still under his arm. Not the best sign.

“No. But, uh don’t take this the wrong way or anything, I was definitely glad you just wanted to watch One Piece with me. For a second there, I thought you wanted to…” He buried his face against Ryuji’s shoulder. God, his boyfriend was stupidly cute when he got all shy. “...y-y’know. Anyways, I was relieved when you seemed just as nervous about it? Not to be an asshole, but I’m kinda glad it isn’t just me who isn’t ready.”

“Right.” Well, that was that question out of the way, but now he’d paved the way for a new one that’d been rattling around in his head for a while now. God, best case scenario, Akira was probably gonna laugh in his face. Him? Ryuji Sakamoto, of all people, not interested in that? “What if…” He hesitated and tried again. “Well, how long would you be okay with that?”

“What do you mean?” Akira tipped his head up to look Ryuji in the eye. That really didn’t help things, ‘cause even on a good day Ryuji tended to feel small when Akira looked at him like that.

“Like…” Ryuji took a deep breath and steeled himself. “WhatifI’mneverready?” His stomach clenched. There it was, he’d finally said it. Years of wondering if his friends were just exaggerating what they wanted to do with the girls in their class; months of internet research and arguing with himself even when it was the only answer that made sense and trying to backtrack or minimize it with ‘well maybe I’m only kinda like that, maybe I’m that demi thing, maybe I’ll find someone’ to try and soften the blow; a whole year of slowly coming to the realization that that just wasn’t something on the table for him, no matter how attractive Ann was or how close him and Akira got, he just wasn’t wired for wanting that kind of thing, even if he wanted the rest of the sappy, romantic couple shit for as long as he could get it, ideally the rest of his life. All of that had built up to one rushed confession that could make this trip out to the country really effin’ miserable when he still had four more days of crashing at his boyfriend’s place.

“Didn’t... quite catch that?” Akira said after a moment of trying to process what Ryuji had just blurted out. Goddammit. Of course he didn’t.

Ryuji took a deep breath and tried again. “What if… I’m never ready for that? Would that be a dealbreaker?” His heart was hammering as he forced the words out a little more slowly this time. And Akira already looked annoyed. Shit. Shit. He couldn’t look him in the eye and instead stared down at his feet, trying desperately to swallow the queasy feeling in his stomach that threatened to bounce his lunch back up onto the floor in front of him. Ryuji opened his mouth to backpedal, to assure him that if he really wanted to then Ryuji would try for him even if the idea was kind of completely terrifying--

“Of course not!” The sharpness of his tone was what registered first and Ryuji was already braced for a breakup when the words actually hit him. It wasn’t a dealbreaker. It was okay. They were okay. They were... actually okay?

“Wh-- forreal?” Ryuji’s voice cracked embarrassingly and Akira shifted against him, one hand coming up to his chin to make him look at him.

“I already told you, you’re my hero. You…” Akira opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was looking for the right words and couldn’t find them. One hand cupped Ryuji’s jaw and ran a calloused thumb across his cheek, and Ryuji couldn’t help but press into the touch. “You’re everything to me. I could write books on all the things that make you amazing; your compassion, your kindness, your loyalty, your smile, all of it. So what if we never…” Akira blushed a little, but he seemed determined to power through the embarrassment. “So what if we never have sex? What do I care? I love you, Ryuji Sakamoto, I’m not giving up my sunshine, the best thing that ever happened to me, for anything.”

Ryuji swallowed hard around the lump forming in his throat and buried his face against Akira’s neck. Even away from Leblanc, he still smelled like coffee and curry, still smelled like home. Akira had called it home too, and had told him once that he made Boss’ recipes whenever he was homesick for the cafe, or his team, or… Or for Ryuji. Ryuji wanted to believe him so badly. “It’s easy to say that when you still ain’t ready for it, but--”

“I won’t change my mind,” he insisted so vehemently that no part of Ryuji could even think of an argument. Even the part of him that had been certain for months that even admitting he was asexual to himself would ruin everything. “It’s not like I can’t take care of things myself. And that just means more time for everything else.” Akira paused and pressed a kiss to Ryuji’s forehead. “More time to cook your favorite foods,” kiss, “more time to cuddle,” kiss, “more time to watch our favorite shows, all of it.” Akira dropped one last kiss on his temple and went back to running his fingers through Ryuji’s hair. Then he added, almost too quietly to hear, “for the rest of our lives if you’ll let me.” Let him? He’d fuckin’ beg him if he had to.

“Babe, you’re gonna make me cry,” Ryuji said thickly, as if they couldn’t both feel the wet spots forming on Akira’s shirt from where tears were already streaming down his face. Part of him was still scared he wasn’t going to be enough, and it probably always would be for one reason or another. But for now it was easy to relax into his boyfriend’s embrace and trust that he planned on sticking around a little longer.

Akira kept playing with Ryuji's hair the way he knew he loved and wrapped his other arm tightly around him. He pressed a few more kisses to the top of Ryuji’s head and then asked, “do you need me to stop?” Ryuji shook his head and got another kiss. “Alright. Take all the time you need, sunshine.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“We’re gonna need to restart the episode after, though.”

#persona 5 #pegoryu #pegoryu week 2021 #my writing #had the idea for ace ryuji halfway through this prompt and couldn't resist giving favorite characters the tenderness I have yet to find #so if you clown here I will physically fight you

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arhvste · 4 years

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TSUKISHIMA KEI - IMPOSSIBLE AND INSUFFERABLE PART 3

this is it y’all the chapter you’ve been dying for

hara bullying hour is officially in session bitches 😈

i will fix any grammar errors tomorrow my fellow simps now have fun reading about little bitch hara’s downfall

part 1 part 2

Tsukishima had exited his classroom after the last bell had rung still in the same foul mood he found himself to be trapped in as of late.

“Tsukishima!”

Hinata bounded towards the tall boy with a big smile on his face.

His foul mood had worsened in nanoseconds.

“What.” he coldly spat at the energetic ginger.

“You’re coming with me. Captain's orders.”

Tsukishima frowned and reluctantly obliged as he followed Hinata into the clubroom where Daichi was sitting on the table alone with what looked like an ipad.

Opening the door, Daichi welcomed him with a warm smile to which Tsukishima tried to reciprocate even though it was clear the clubroom was not where he wanted to be.

“Hey Tsukishima, I have a few people to talk to you right now. I need to run some errands before practice. I’ll meet you in the gym once you’re done, take as much time as you need though, I’ll see you shortly.”

“Thanks for the concern but I’m really okay.”

Daichi had already left Tsukishima and the ipad in the clubroom alone. Irritated, Tsukishima sat down on the table and picked up the ipad only to instantly pull a face of disgust.

“Why? Why you of all people.”

“And what an absolute pleasure it is to see you too Tsuki.”

There on the screen showed the captains and setters of Fukurodani and Nekoma. Bokuto sat there with a wide grin on his face, excited to be talking to one of his ‘students’ as he liked to call and next to him, Kuroo who was smiling smugly at the agitated middle blocker. Akaashi and Kenma in the background were seen keeping an eye on their captains to make sure they weren’t crossing the line of invasion for poor Tsukishima.

“Whatever you’re about to say to me I’m not interested, thanks.”

“But Tsukiiiiiiii!” Bokuto whined pouting through the camera.

“Let your wonderful and wise Senpais give you advice and take advantage of it.” Kuroo smoothly spoke, propping his hand under his chin.

“No.” Tsukishima wanted to end the call right there and then but, a small part of him felt bad for both Kenma and Akaashi having to waste their time being there too so he opted to not hit the tempting ‘end’ button just yet.

“Listen, we heard you had a rough break up and we want to give you some advice.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes before he spoke. “So enlighten me, my two most wonderful and clever senpais.” sarcasm dripping from every single word.

“See Kuroo! He does love and respect us!” Bokuto was beaming as he shook his fellow captain and friends' shoulders slightly.

“He might respect you but I can assure you Tsukishima-san is far from loving you.”

“Akaashi don’t say that!” Bokuto cried out pouting once again.

“Honestly Tsuki, you didn’t seem like the type that would suffer from heartbreak to me. Guess I was wrong.”

Tsukishima was ready to cut the rooster headed captain off right then and there but Kuroo began to speak again.

“You also didn’t seem like someone who disliked volleyball either at first but I was wrong about that too. Look, your ex-girlfriend obviously meant more to you than what you’re choosing to insist but if it’s affecting your plays I’m going to need you to do something about it. I quite enjoy playing against you simple country folk. You are good opponents I’ll give you that, but you won’t be if your playing ability starts to deteriorate.”

“Yeah what he said! Tsuki, how did you even get a girlfriend anyway? If I was a girl I’d run 7 miles from you with that mean glare. But anyway, snap out of your bad mood and go get her back if you’re still hung up on her. If she has this affect on you she must mean something to you right? Do it go get her back kid.”

“You two sure do have a lot to say for a pair of relationship virgins.” Kenma quietly spoke up.

“Kenma! If I wanted to be so brutally attacked I would’ve asked Yaku.” Kuroo feigned an offended look.

“He’s right though.”

“Akaashi stop or I will cry.” Bokuto turned and threatened his close friend only to have him roll his eyes back at him.

“Look, Y/N I mean L/N, had a long relationship with me I think it’s normal for me to be slightly off my game for a short while. Why is it such a big deal and why can’t you all just mind your own business. Focus on getting yourselves girlfriends, if that's even possible, before trying to get me back together with my ex one.”

“Listen here young one -”

“Oh here we go.” Kenma mumbled.

Kuroo paid no mind to him as he continued. “- Myself and Bo are ever so busy. We’re third years and captains. We have no time for girls but I can assure you we both have the option to have one if we want whenever we want.”

“No you can't. Girls find your hair stupid and probably don’t find chemistry puns funny or attractive.”

“Kenma! Are you here to help or to bully me?”

“Both.”

Bokuto snickered but was silenced by Akaashi’s sharp voice.

“Stop laughing Bokuto-san you’re no better. The closest you’ve gotten to a girl is our managers who babysit you if anything and you still owe one of them money.”

Bokuto’s face dropped as Kuroo’s smirk widened.

“Kuroo stop laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

The bickering between the Tokyo prefecture students went back and forth until Bokuto stood up to chase Kuroo around who had grabbed Kenma to help him.

Tsukishima had just about had it and had his finger hovering above the ‘end’ button.

Akaashi took it upon himself to pick up the device they were communicating through and leave the room Kenma was currently trapped in with the two child-like captains.

“My apologies for the two of them, they're a handful. But what they’re saying does hold some value. Tsukishima-san, you’re a talented player and sure this must be something you’re trying hard to overcome but, I do think Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are somewhat right. This girl clearly means something to you and keeping yourself in denial won’t help you. It’s important to keep control of personal issues as it will affect your performance in a match otherwise emotions build up and you’ll lose focus.”

Tsukishima was taken aback slightly. Akaashi was never one to speak up often, only giving his input when needed unlike his friend who would talk for the sake of it. Tsukishima had genuine respect for Akaashi and had decided that from their meeting at the training camp. He was someone Tsukishima found level headed and honest. Someone worthy of giving their opinion in Tsukishima’s head anyway.

“Yeah. I’ll give it some thought. Thank you for your time Akaashi-san I look forward to our next meeting.”

“My pleasure Tsukishima-san and if Bokuto-san bothers you, don’t hesitate to contact me and I’ll sort it out for you.”

“You’re like his babysitter.”

“He needs one. He has the mental age of a 5 year old. He is still a good captain with good intentions though. Same goes for Kuroo-san. They are concerned for you and want you to know that they are here if you need them. They’ve really taken a shine to you.”

Tsukishima almost smiled. Sure the two loud third years were irritating and provoking at times, they had changed his perspective on volleyball and it was thanks to them he found himself fall in love with the sport he played. He only wished he had the girl he loved too. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud though.

“I do somewhat appreciate them, I suppose. Anyway I had better go. Sorry for all the trouble Akaashi-san, please apologise to Kozume-san too.”

“No worries, take care and I hope to see the usual or improved standard of yourself when we next play.”

“I’ll try.”

And with that the call had ended. Tsukishima didn’t want to admit it but the points Kuroo and Bokuto had made to him did make some sort of sense and he was silently grateful to them.

Entering the gym felt good for the first time in a while.

Nodding at Daichi, Tsukishima participated in the usual drills coach Ukai was running. Keeping to himself, Tsukishima thought over the current situation and evaluated his options. He wanted to talk to you again but his pride wouldn’t allow it. Not while you apparently have a new boyfriend. That stupid Hara Itsuki none the less too.

2 weeks had passed since then and to Tsukishima’s annoyance, both Bokuto and Kuroo made it their responsibility to contact him every few days to check on his progress and wellbeing. Sure he was technically their rivals, but neither Kuroo or Bokuto cared. They saw Tsukishima as a worthy and respectable opponent and someone they wanted to be good role models to.

The rumours had begun to die down much to your relief and you had decided to distance yourself from Hara ever so slightly to discourage people from getting the wrong idea. Hara noticed this and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

5pm at Karasuno highschool was usually a peaceful time. Volleyball practice had ended and very few students were left on campus.

Tsukishima had been making his way out of practice when his phone rang. Another facetime call came up on his screen and immediately his face scrunched up.

“Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Nope ~”

Tsukishima snarled as he made his way to his locker to grab his biology textbook before heading home.

“Hang on I’m gonna add Bo to the call.”

“Must you? I can just about handle you both one on one and I don’t even like doing that.”

“Such a sharp tongue Tsuki. I only hope you're working on your blocks and observations to be just as sharp again.”

“Hey, hey hey Tsuki!”

“Ugh.”

The two captains spoke to each other briefly as Tsukishima kept them on the call while unlocking his locker until a familiar voice piqued his interest.

“Shush for a sec would you.”

Tsukishima demanded the two third years as they stopped and stopped talking.

The blonde first year could hear your voice nearby and from what it sounded like you were in slight distress.

“Stop it you piece of shit!”

“Thats Y/N’s voice.” Tsukishima quietly muttered as the two captains listened carefully.

Quietly walking closer to where you were heard, Tsukishima noticed Hara had you cornered against the wall and it didn’t look like he was letting you go anytime soon.

“Listen to me Y/N. I’m fucking sick of waiting. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do anything with you? You’re so fucking naive it’s pathetic.”

Tsukishima was taken aback slightly. Hara had just insulted you? But weren’t you dating him? Deciding not to step in just yet, he decided to continue observing from a distance and then make a decision on what he should do.

“Hara, listen to me. You broke me and Tsukishima up whether that was your intention or not. I rejected you because I don’t want to date anyone. Especially not you and you know why. Let me go now.” Your tone was icy and your glare was hard.

Lowkey Tsukishima was proud of the tone you were using. Before the two of you had started dating, you were never nasty to anyone. You did start to pick up the habits of Tsukishima’s spiteful tone however a few months into your relationship and he was proud of that.

“Listen here you fucking slut. Your lanky boyfriend only got in the way. Poor naive little Y/N did you really think I was interested? Your personality is something I’ve been forcing myself to put up with for months and I still haven’t dicked you down yet. You’re a selfish brat.”

Your face twisted with disgust. You were furious, enraged even. Since your fight with Tsukishima you had built up your tolerance to harsh words so Hara’s insensitive language didn’t affect as much as it probably would’ve a few months ago.

“Who the hell gave you the confidence? As if I’d ever let a creature like you touch me. Did you really think I’d let you sleep with me after you drove a wedge between me and Tsukishima? You’re a sick little bitch an ugly one too!”

Now Tsukishima was proud of you. Harsh insults, cutting edge tone, dark scowl and a whole load of attitude. Whether you liked it or not, your time spent over the long months with your ex boyfriend had transformed you into his own Frankenstein's monster and he took a small hint of pride in that.

Hara grew angry and slammed his hand harder against the wall making you flinch.

“What makes you think I’m waiting for your permission. You’re helpless Y/N. A helpless little slut who’s about to get what she deserves.”

Your eyes clenched shut. There was no chance in you winning a physical fight with this boy. You had just about lost hope.

“AHAHAHAHAHA BO DOESN’T HE SOUND LIKE A GREMLIN!”

“BRO YOU’RE RIGHT HE DOES!! I JUST KNOW FROM HIS MID PUBESCENT VOICE HE SMELLS LIKE MAYO OR SOME SHIT!”

“STOP IT YOU CHEEKY BASTARD I’M GONNA PISS MYSELF!”

“DON’T BLAME ME, BLAME LITTLE PITCHY VOICE BITCH AT KARASUNO!”

Hara’s head snapped to face Tsukishima who was sighing in embarrassment at his two upperclassmen’s comments. Kuroo and Bokuto were currently having a field day mocking the ‘little bitch boy’ Hara.

You looked up as your eyes widened at the sight of your ex boyfriend stood there, phone in one hand, bag and textbook in the other. He was slightly sweaty from training and he held a dark expression to his face.

“What the actual fuck?” Hara spat out.

“I’m afraid you’ve been caught out Hara-san.” Tsukishima cooly said as the screeches of the two captains on the phone lowered down.

“Tsuki PLEASE show us what little bitch boy looks like I’m begging you!”

“Yeah show us Tsuki!”

“Ready to have your eyes burned?” Tsukishima snickered as he flipped the camera and pointed it towards the now raging Hara.

“WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THAT NO I AM GONNA PISS MYSELF!”

“IT’S THE EXPRESSION FOR ME!”

“Guys stop being so mean I think he’s going to cry.”

Hara snarled and glared straight at Tsukishima who had decided to give into Bokuto and Kuroo and encourage their provocative behaviour for once.

“You’re the one who’s going to be crying you lanky bit-AH SHIT FUCK!”

Hara was cut off by your knee making quick contact with his crotch with heavy force.

“Felt kinda small down there buddy.”

With Hara on the ground clutching his assaulted private area, you ran away from him and next to Tsukishima’s side.

“NO WAY DID SHE JUST SAY YOU FELT SMALL DOWN THERE THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD I’M SO GLAD WE CALLED TODAY AHAHAHA!”

“LITTLE DICK PITCHY VOICE BITCH BOY!”

Tsukishima made a mental note to not ever encourage the two captains to be as irritating as they were being to Hara now but since he wasn’t on the receiving end it couldn’t hurt to push them a little bit.

Hara began to move and both you and Tsukishima stood towering above him.

“Oi Tsuki I don't condone violence but… kick him if you’re bad.”

“Do it Tskui, do it for the boys.”

“Nobody is kicking anyone.”

A new voice was heard in the halls.

“Sawamura-san.” You bowed your head slightly as he smiled at you and Tsukishima briefly before turning his attention to the two fellow captains on the call with Tsukishima.

“I’d appreciate it if you two didn’t try to corrupt my players thank you.”

“Do you country kids not ever have a bit of rough house from time to time?”

“Not when I’m around no.” Daichi replied back to the bedhead captain who only smirked in return.

Now turning his gaze to the whimpering boy on the floor Daichi raised an eyebrow.

“What happened here.”

“Attempted assault.” Tsukishima swift replied.

“Attempted? That bitch did assault me!” Hara cried from the floor.

“Kuroo listen! The gremlin’s voice is even more pitchy!”

Daichi sighed and grabbed the boy up from the floor.

“I’m not stupid. Tsukishima isn’t the type to lie and L/N doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be in your presence either. I think me and you should take a little trip down to the principal's office and have a look through the cctv footage.”

“Get rekted.” Bokuto snickered as Daichi dragged the disgraced boy off towards the reception.

“Listen I think you two have some things to talk about so we’re gonna go now. Remember what we said to you Tsuki. Call you soon!”

“Get that cooch my son!”

Tsukishima immediately hung up after Bokuto’s last comment which earned a snicker from you.

“Look, Tsukishima, I’m really really sorry about what went down a while ago. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and it was wrong of me not to just approach you and express my issues I had with you. In all honesty I didn’t have a huge problem with your attitude, Hara got into my head a bit and would tell me my reputation was being dragged down by you.”

Tsukishima stared down at you as he examined your face. He could tell you were being genuine but he knew you both needed time to talk things through and be more transparent with each other before picking things back up from where they left off.

“I know Y/N. I’m sorry for what I said too. I know I said some hurtful things but I didn’t mean them. You’re worth more than what I claimed you were and for that I apologize. I just wish you had been more open with me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Tsukishima never apologised so this was a big deal to you. You gave the boy a soft smile.

“It’s going to take some time for us both to heal. A lot went down today but if you’ll let me, I want to give us a chance to rebuild things between us. I still love you no matter how much I try to deny it. We need to work on communication obviously but I do want to give us another shot, Tsukishima.”

“Kei. It’s Kei to you. And yeah you’re right. We do need to be more open with each other. I’m not saying we should get back together right now, but I do care about you and I suppose I do need you in a weird way. I’m happy to work on us if that’s what you want.”

Tsukishima smiled down at you. The first genuine smile in a while which you immediately returned back to him.

Hara had caused a lot of damage. But you had the time to rebuild it all and that’s just what the two of you did.

This was obvious to all 3 captains involved in watching over Tsukishima when they saw the improvement in his playing.

Sure Tsukishima found people irritating often, but thanks to their concern a weight was lifted off his shoulder. Hara was expelled for attempted sexual assault, and you were being more clear with him.

It would take a while for things to go back to what they used to be, but getting rid of Hara and having you back by his side was a good start.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei #oneshot #haikyuufanfic #fanfic

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emisonme · 4 years

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Camila's anxiety.......

The same Anon that asked me about Lauren's anxiety, also asked about Camila's. There was no way to integrate the two posts, so I decided to make then separate....Again, I'm not a professional anything. Everything you read is strictly my non professional OPINION.

There are also some touchy subjects that I will try and give my honest opinion on, but be as sensitive as possible. This one is most likely going to be longer than Lauren's, because Camila's anxiety stems from her early childhood. So, I'll most likely concentrate on that area, because it was the most profound, in her young life, and shows sign of still affecting her today. Here we go...

Camila has had anxiety issues, since she was knee high to a grasshopper. It first became noticeable, when she would have to go between Cuba and Mexico. That in itself tells me, CHANGE is a major catalyst for her anxiety. Better explained as FEAR of CHANGE.

(Disclaimer: All anxiety is fear based. There are simply different fears, with different levels of anxiety.)

When Camila was six years old, a major change turned her whole world upside down. IN MY OPINION, the root cause of Camila's severe anxiety, and eventual OCD, is the CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, suffered due to her Immigration to America. It caused the underlying issues of, fear of ABANDONMENT and LOSS among other things.

The manner in which she came to America, would have been traumatizing, for any young child. The experience was based on a lie, and resulted in loss. It was an experience, that resulted in issues that are still present, to this day.

Her parents DID NOT mean for this to happen. They thought they were doing what was best for their daughter. They didn't mean for the lie to create lasting issues. She was 6, she wouldn't understand. Her dad didn't actually "abandon" them, and she didn't actually "lose" him, but her six year old mind couldn't comprehend what was actually happening. So, they lied to her, and figured she'd understand when she got older.

The problem is, six years old is one of a child's formative years. What they learn and experience at six, stays with them for the rest of their lives.

What was Camila's actual experience? She was basically told, to pack a few of her favorite things into her little Disney backpack, because Mommy was taking her to Disneyland. That Daddy couldn't come, YET, but he'd meet up with them as soon as he was able.

One day, Camila was a happy 6 year old, living at home with family and friends, in Mexico City. The next day, with nothing more than her mother, the clothes on their backs, a little Disney backpack, an overnight bag, and a few hundred bucks, Camila was crossing the border to a foreign land...WITHOUT HER FATHER.

Camila and Sinu spent several hours waiting for their paperwork to be processed, as they were requesting asylum from the Castro regime, and applying for a green card. Being that they were both Cuban born citizens, their request was granted fairly quickly, and they found themselves on a two day bus ride to Disney.....Miami. There was no Disneyland!!!

Camila's young reality had changed, drastically. She suddenly found herself a legal resident in a foreign country, living in some ladies house, that wasn't her own, and being enrolled in a school with a bunch of strangers. No friends! No family, other than her mother. No father.

Literally, the only familiar thing Camila had to cling to, at that time, was her mother. That is a consequence, created by the trauma, that is still present today. Sinu is more than Camila's mother, she is her best friend and confidant. She feels lost and alone, without Sinu with her. She NEEDS her mother with her. (With the Industry she's in, that's actually a good thing)

The traumatic experience caused Camila to have major abandonment issues. She fears losing her mother. She basically has a co-dependent relationship with Sinu.

Camila loves her father, dearly. She knows he didn't leave or abandon her, but for almost two years, of her formative years, he simply wasn't there when she needed him most. Her mother was always there. Her one true north. Camila's safe place!!!

Another clue, that particular time in her life was very traumatic for her, is her obsession with everything Disney. In her little young mind, Disney is what brought her to America. It's what took her father away from her, for almost two years. It's what would bring him back to her.

If I remember right, I read somewhere, that Camila would mark the days off a Disney calendar, waiting for her dad to get there. She pretty much ate, slept, and breathed Disney, waiting for him to get there, so they could go to Disneyland. That's how her young mind rationalized what was happening.

She watched the Disney channel a lot, to help her learn English faster. The Disney movies she was obsessed with, helped her to discover her passion for music. Disney became an important part of her life, because of an unfortunate lie.

Those two years, also helped her to discover, that living in her own head, was safer than her reality. She learned to basically sleepwalk through her reality, and live in her fantasies. She would daydream about the day her father would come back to her, and her mother. It helped her cope with her reality. Even with her current success, she still prefers her fantasy-land over her reality, sometimes.

That leads me to another issue that was born by the experience, and that is her own EXPECTATIONS. As she got older, and began to better understand what happened when she was 6 years old, she began to put pressure on herself, to live up to her parents sacrifice, for her.

They immigrated to America, so they could give her a better life. So, she could grow up with more opportunities than they did. So, she could be whatever she wanted to be, if she worked hard enough for it.

I don't think she thought, being a "Pop Star", would live up to their sacrifice. The little introverted Karla, who only concentrated on her education, was wide awake, when her parents were home. Probably expecting to go to medical school and be a bad-ass doctor, or something important like that.

But, when the parents were away, she would put Karla to bed, and wake up Camila, the famous Pop Star. For me, that's the main reason she was to "shy" to sing around her family. She was afraid, they would be disappointed in her, for "wasting" her time on music, instead of concentrating on her studies.

That's a good segue to yet another issue of hers, and that's GUILT. It's more of a current consequence, but it's still tied to her past. She feels guilty for following her passion. Not because it wasn't what her parents expected of her, but because she is basically putting her little sister through the same shit she went through as a child. The consequence of Camila's fame, is her need for her mother to be with her, and therefore, keeping Sinu away from her little sister.

I'm almost certain, she fears the day she pisses off her sister, and she gets blamed for taking Sinu away from her. Camila loves Sophi, dearly. She is doing everything she can, to make sure herself, and Sinu get to be home as much as possible. She knows exactly what it feels like to have an "absent" parent. She doesn't want Sophi to go through that, because of her.

Fuck, I haven't even gotten to her sexuality, yet. I'll put it this way...I think Camila had more issues with her sexuality at school, than at home. I think, about the time she decided to introduce Camila, the Pop Star dreamer to her parents, she also introduced Gaymila to her mother. I really don't think she hid it from her mother, for long. Maybe from her father and sister, longer, but not her mother.

I bet, as close as Sinu was/is to Camila, she was simply waiting for the day Camila felt comfortable enough in her own skin, to tell her mother her truth. There's no way Sinu hadn't already figure it out, IN MY OPINION.

(It also caused subsequent issues between her and Lauren, as well, But I have to edit it out. Maybe in a future Camren post, or something.....Plus, this post sounds like a disjointed mess. I've had to edit the piss out of it. Sorry folks)

Anyways, this is way to long. I'll summarize with this...The root cause of Camila's severe anxiety and subsequent OCD, is due to the consequences of her Immigration to America. She is still trying to fight through some of the underlying issues, but with the love and support around her, I think she'll be able to overcome them. Again, I wish her all the love and luck in figuring out how to live her life.... WITHOUT FEAR!!!!!

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rosesisupposes · 4 years

Text

Mist Connection (Sleepxiety)

read on ao3

Virgil's always been told to be careful in the fog. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!” He's sure his Aunties are just superstitious. And yet...

pairing: Virgil/Remy (Sleep)

content tags: brief mention of parent death/disappearance; fae-like setting; Remy Is A Flirt; kissing, background best friends analogical

word count: 4,072

⁂

Virgil has always hated the fog.

He stomps down the country road to his house, trying to make his footfalls louder.

He knows it's superstitious, but the thick, cloying clouds make him feel claustrophobic, like anyone or anything could leap out at any time.

And then, of course, there are the stories.

All his village Aunties talk of disappearances, a last sighting of a poor soul walking into a thick bank of fog and never being seen again.

“Be careful, lad,” they warn him. “Never stray from the path, no matter what you think you see or hear!”

Virgil rolls his eyes at them, smiles indulgently are their old tales. His friend Logan is always quick to point out that all these stories happened just before he was born, so it can only be passed down in rumor.

But a part of him believes, and so he dons his heaviest combat boots, zips his bomber jacket over his hoodie, and he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, watching each step to stay on the path.

He’s sure the legends are really about caution- the woods here are dense, and difficult to navigate even when it’s clear. It’s all too likely those sad disappearances were just folks who got disoriented and blundered in all the wrong directions.

But then again, one can never be too cautious.

It’s probably because he’s dwelling on those tales that he hears it.

“Virgil...”

Distinctly, a voice. Saying his name. It sounds... familiar, somehow. But who?

He pauses, listening hard. He hears nothing, though, and keeps on. He’s close to home.

He looks up, peering for the porch light. But then he sees- eyes? No, not quite eyes. They’re far too big, for one, but they also look too... blank.

“Virgil!” The voice says again, and now there’s a mouth along with the maybe-eyes. He’s not imagining- there’s certainly a face, of some kind, and it’s speaking to him. By name.

Virgil hesitates. He’s had several nights in a row of not great sleep- maybe he’s just tired and seeing things? But all the voices of his Aunties are yelling in his ear to look away, to keep moving.

The only problem is, the face is directly in the path where he needs to walk. He can only avoid it by going off the road. And that, he knows, is a far worse option.

So he takes a deep breath, looks down, and keeps walking forward. He keeps his eyes fixed at where the cloud meets the ground, at the edge of the little circle of visibility he has in each direction. It moves with him, as fog always does.

But when he chances a glance up, the face is still there. And now it’s more defined, a head shaped in the mist. And now he sees that the large eyes are in fact glasses. That makes sense.

Why am I trying to apply logic to a trick of my eyes in the fog? he asks himself angrily, and he firmly roots his gaze to the ground once more, stomping on.

“Virgil... wait, please!” the voice says again. More words now? Can he still call that just a trick of a tired mind?

Through the mist, he can make out the slightest nimbus of light from his porch lantern. He knows where home is, and it’s close.

So it can’t be too risky, right?

“Who do you speak to?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to confirm that this hallucination knows his name.

“I speak to you, Virgil!” the hallucination says, and its mouth is defined enough now for him to see a smile. The mist is rippling, more and more forming into defined shapes, giving it a neck, and shoulders, and a steadily-growing torso.

“Who are you? What are you?” Virgil asks. He tugs at his hoodie until the hood is free from under his jacket, draping it over his ears and head.

“You don’t remember?” the form asks, pouting. “Am I that unmemorable?”

“And what am I supposed to remember?” Virgil asks guardedly.

“How we met, babes! It seems so recent, but you’re so much bigger now...”

Virgil frowns. Something deep in the recesses of his memory stirs, like a whisper of a dream from many years ago.

The form has grown enough to have arms and the beginnings of legs. “Take my hand, you’ll remember,” it says, extending its newly-formed limb.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember, and what else? Do I look dumb enough to go around shaking hands with every fog-creature I see?” Virgil crosses his arms resolutely, and the form droops slightly.

“I mean you no harm, hon. I just want to talk.”

Virgil says nothing, just taps his steel-tipped toe.

“Fine, no, sweetie, you don’t look dumb. Just familiar. Hm, do you have an older brother or father who looks like you? Did I skip a generation again?”

The more defined the form becomes, the more human its voice sounds, no longer an ethereal echo but a drawl. Virgil’s not quite sure if he should be reassured or more freaked out by that.

“Can’t help you there,” he replies. “If I have any siblings, I’ve never met them. And ditto on the dad.”

Finally, the form is complete, head to toe. It appears to stand on the ground, but it clearly cannot detach from its cloud completely. “Then clearly, introductions are in order.” It looks at Virgil for a moment, then grows a very similar jacket around its torso. “You may call me Remy.”

“Okay, fog-boy,” Virgil replies, arms still crossed. “You’ve been calling me Virgil, feel free to continue.”

“Virgil. I’m glad to have found you. I’ve been looking for you, you see. Or at least, I think it was you. You haven’t always been this big, right? Humans are weird.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Strong words for a - man? Entity? - who just grew a body out of a cloud. But yeah, I grew the human way. I was a kid. Now I’m not. Are we done?”

“No, please!” Remy says, arms raising as Virgil starts to walk forward. “I can’t- if you go too close to the lantern I won’t be able to speak to you. I- if we did meet, touching my hand would bring the memory back, nothing more. I swear I mean you no harm. Please?”

Virgil hesitates. It’s a risk, for sure. But haven’t the aunties always said the fair folk cannot lie?

“Does it have to be your hand?” he asks.

“No, any part of this form will do.”

“Then turn around,” Virgil orders.

Remy obeys.

Virgil steels himself, still considering the possibility that he could just run to his house now. But curiosity takes hold, and he reaches out to lightly brush Remy’s shoulder. It feels odd, still a cloud, but gives more slowly, like memory foam. And then- he remembers.

He’s a child again, no more than five or so, and he’s lost on the way home. Auntie hurt her leg and couldn’t walk with him. He’d insisted he was able to walk the quarter mile himself. But then the fog had rolled in. He’s cautiously proceeding, staying on the path, but he’s terrified.

He hears a voice, calling his name, and follows it. A smile dances in the mist around him, and the voice tells him it will guide him home, only take its hand.

Virgil wraps chubby fingers around the cloud hand dangling from the mist, and true to its word, the porch light is soon visible. Another Auntie is on the porch, looking frantic, but calms when she sees him.

Virgil lets go of the hand, and he’s back in the present, hand dangling in mid air behind Remy’s back. He frowns in confusion.

“So I met you. And you helped. Why? Everyone not a child knows the mist isn’t friendly.”

Remy turns back around, looking hurt. “And did Everyone ever try buying me a drink first?”

In spite of himself, Virgil snorts in laughter.

“You’re a cloud, can you even drink?”

“No,” Remy replies, pouting, “but they could have made an effort!”

“Fine, so you’re not that bad. Can I go home now?”

“No- please, you’re the first one to hear me in... Goddess, even I’ve lost count.“

“So what,” Virgil asks with a shrug. “Did you just want to chat? Cause small talk ain’t my jam. I have a date with a conspiracy theory marathon.”

Remy droops. “I can’t keep you. Go, then. I’ll return to being alone and formless, reviled by the locals, my reputation cruelly smeared!”

“Holy shit, drama queen much?”

“Why yes, I am a queen! Thank you for noticing!” Remy replies, perking up.

Virgil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but be a bit charmed by this odd creature. He dusts off a stump at the edge of the road and sits. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. Why can’t everyone hear you? Why does everyone think the mist will make us humans disappear?”

Remy’s feet leave the ground as they wriggle in happiness. A flick, and a chaise starts to melt into being out of the fog next to Virgil, giving them a place to elegantly flop down.

“I don’t know why they can’t all hear me,” they admit. “It only seems to be people who are... special, in some way. I think there’s been one a generation, but time’s a bitch and I don’t like her.”

Virgil smirks but doesn’t reply, nodding for them to continue.

“The disappearances... I think time might be an issue again? Time or space. One of those. Maybe both. I thought all humans were returned to the same moment and spot they left, but apparently I’m not the only one who gets messed up?”

“So... wait, what are you, exactly? Are you of the gentle folk?”

Remy sniffs. “How dare. My manners are so much better than theirs. Did I ask for you name? Have I whisked you off to my court? No ma’am!”

“Jeez, touchy! If not fae, what are you?”

Remy ruffles their hair, and it wisps around as if in a breeze. “I think you humans would call me, hmm, a spirit? Elemental? I’d tell you my actual name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

“Try me.”

Remy smirks, then makes a sound like the wind over a heath, the dampened noise of waves lapping at a shore, and the tiny sound of goosebumps forming in the clammy air.

“Okay, you’re right, I can’t pronounce that.”

Remy smirks deeper. “So anyway, I keep waiting to find one of you who can hear me properly, but most people just hear echoes I think? And that freaks out the poor lil human brains.”

“Wow, can’t imagine why,” Virgil replies drily.

“Hey, it’s not easy being ignored and invisible to everyone who passes you! Not that I’d expect you to understand-“

“Of course I understand,” Virgil says with a shrug. “That’s most of my life since the Aunties decided I was raised enough.”

Remy pauses. “What are ‘Aunties’. Are those... food?”

“...they’re people. Why would you think food?”

“Humans do weird things, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Aunties are all the ladies in town who collectively took care of me when I was a kid. Because no parents.”

“And parents are- the ones who made you?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Well, how can you not have them then?”

Virgil shrugs. “They didn’t stick around, I guess. I was dropped off at the wardlings house when I was a baby. I’ve only ever had the Aunties, and my best friend Lo.”

“Low?”

“Logan.”

Remy scratches their cloudy head. “Have I seen this Logan?”

“Nah, he was a pen pal, now an internet pal.”

Remy smiles, bemused. “I will pretend I know what any of those words mean!”

“I’ve never met him face to face,” Virgil explains.

Remy’s own face falls. “So you are also lonely.”

Virgil, about to shrug philosophically, pauses. “I- yeah. I am. It’s mostly fine, I’m an introvert. It’s fine.”

Remy sits up from their lounging position and stares at Virgil, or appears to. The glasses over their eyes are opaque, and the gray clouds of their face are hard to read.

“Do you think, maybe- I was so excited to be able to talk to you, Virgil. I would like to do so again, if you would allow it.”

Virgil looks down. The Aunties would absolutely screech in dismay at this entire situation, let along agreeing to repeat it. But- it hasn’t been unpleasant. It’s been intriguing. And Remy saved him, all those years ago.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replies, looking up with a smile. He’s rewarded by a smile on Remy’s face that’s so bright, it almost seems like a second lantern.

“Until next time, Virgil- wait, humans have family names, correct? What is yours?”

Virgil is standing to walk home, but smiles wryly. “You need a family to have a family name. I was found in the doorstep in the middle of thunder and rain, so they’ve always called me Virgil Storm.”

“Until next time, Virgil Storm!” Remy says. They hesitate, then move through the mist closer to Virgil. “This is how humans say goodbye, I believe,” they say, and then Virgil feels that odd sensation of dense clouds touching his cheeks, one that distracts him so much that he’s barely aware of Remy leaning in until lips of clouds are pressed against his.

When Remy finally withdraws, Virgil’s mind has come to a complete stop, and it’s not until his body has fully faded back into the swirling mists that Virgil is able to make himself move.

He walks into his house, shucks his layers and boots robotically, and collapses on the couch. He stares at the TV as it plays his conspiracy marathon, but his eyes don’t take in a single minute of it.

A fog person just kissed me. The thought, with no useful additions, circles endlessly through his brain, even as he falls into a restless sleep.

⁂

Virgil pays an unusual amount of attention to the weather after that... well, unusual night.

He checks the humidity every day, looks for fronts coming in that might bring in a bank of fog, asks the local farmers their predictions. He never mentions why he’s so interested. Certainly not to the Aunties, but also not to Logan. His friend can tell he’s a little distracted, but not enough to be a real concern.

Virgil’s not quite sure why he won’t even hint at it, but he knows it’s at least partly because, well. He’s not convinced it was real.

He had been very tired, so there’s a non-zero chance he did imagine it all. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

But when he’s lost in thought, he keeps realizing that his hand drifts to his lips and the sensory memory they still hold.

A week later, the forest eases under a coverlet of soft clouds curling close to the ground. From the minute the mist gathers, Virgil is sitting on his porch, peering into the growing fog with anticipation and nervousness.

When he can barely see the first tree, he double checks the porch lantern and walks out, checking over his shoulder until he’s fully surrounded by dense, swirling clouds.

He waits, looking around him, but sees nothing, and hears nothing.

“Uh, Remy?” he says aloud, feeling self-conscious. “Fog-spirit? It’s, um. Me. I mean, it’s Virgil.”

A weight in his stomach is insisting that it was all a sleep-deprived hallucination, and that he’s speaking like a fool into empty air. The rest of his stomach not currently sinking through his knees twists into elaborate pretzels.

Just as he’s giving up hope, turning to go, he sees smooth orbs sticking out of the amorphous clouds. The smile follows, already smirking.

“Oh babes, don’t tell me you mist me!” Remy drawls.

Virgil wants to run to them, to reach out and confirm that they’re really real, but he restrains himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says with a deceptively noncommittal shrug.

Their body forms faster this time, and they lower their glasses to stare at Virgil for a moment. “Oh hun, don’t even try, I know what it’s like to be waiting breathlessly for someone to return.”

Virgil finds himself breathless anew, caught by the sight of Remy’s revealed eyes. They glow softly, like the hazy haloes of twin lanterns somewhere in the distance behind them.

He coughs, finding his thoughts again. “Do you even need to breathe? As an- elemental, was it?”

Remy sniffs. “No, but I can if I want to. I’ve made myself lungs before! It was weird. I don’t know how humans do it.”

“We don’t exactly get a choice,” Virgil replies drily.

“And yet, Virgil Storm,” Remy says, drifting closer, “I think it’s really you who’s taken my breath away.” They cup Virgil’s cheek again, and this time Virgil’s sure his brain has absolutely ceased functioning.

“...erm. Uh. Yes?” he stammers, his cheeks flaming in stark contrast to the cool, humid touch of Remy’s fingers.

“What is this color, Virgil?” they ask softly. “It reminds me of- lady slippers. Early spring peonies. But with the warmth of a midsummer rain.”

“It’s called a blush,” Virgil mutters, still demonstrating the affliction.

“You didn’t do this last time,” they comment, still holding Virgil’s cheek in one cool hand.

“Last time, you hadn’t already kissed me,” Virgil says to the ground, the heat in his cheeks bursting out even more.

“Did I upset you?” Remy asks, a dark line of clouds showing a crease in their forehead.

“Not- upset, no,” Virgil manages. “You surprised me, though. Kind of a lot.”

“Surprises can be good or bad, yes? Was it a good or bad one?”

“It was, uh. A good one.”

“Would it be better if it were not a surprise?” they ask, and there’s mischief in their misty smile.

“Absolutely,” Virgil breathes, veins thrumming.

Remy leans in, and they’re kissing him again, and he’s... god, this is objectively the weirdest thing he’s ever done, and yet he can’t bring himself to care even a bit.

He kisses back, this time, feeling the odd, pleasant sensation of cool lips giving under his without dissipating. He reaches up and finds he can cup Remy’s soft, cloudy cheeks too.

A tiny, insuppressible voice in the back of his head wonders if an elemental has a tongue, or if that’s something they’d have to grow for the occasion.

The question definitely interests him, but there’s a second, louder voice.

Breaking off, it’s the second voice that tumbles out of his mouth. “Do you kiss everyone who can see you?”

Remy pauses. “I- well. Technically, yes?”

Virgil steps back, arms coming up to guard himself off. The heat in his cheeks feels like ice now. “So, what. I’m just another human conquest?”

“No!” Remy says, and there’s clear distress in their voice. “No, not at all, it’s just- I admit, I have not been... entirely honest?”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “Start talking truth now, then. Or I’m walking away right now.”

Remy holds up their hands in defeat and surrender. “I was mostly truthful, I swear. I don’t know why some people can hear me, but I know why you can. And only two people ever have.”

“And why can I hear and see you?”

“Because of the last person who could.”

“And who was that?”

Remy takes off their glasses, meeting Virgil’s eyes with theirs. “I believe it was your parent.”

Virgil’s ears roar as his brain struggles to process this announcement. His parents? The ones he never even looked for, since no one had any leads? There’d been no note, no memento, no witness of who’d dropped him off. And he has his Aunties. But he’s never stopped wondering, fantasizing about dramatic backstories that he’d never confess to in a million years.

“Who are they?” Virgil asks, in a small voice.

“They were- unique. They heard us, after generations in this village who couldn’t or refused to. They lingered and talked, and didn’t run away in fear.”

“You talked to them?” Virgil asks, hope bursting out of his throat. “What was their name? What were they like?”

“I didn’t, no,” Remy replies with a small shake of their head. “Not until much later. No, they talked to a different elemental, a mentor of mine.”

Virgil stares. "There are... more of you?"

Remy smirks. "Not of me, hun, I'm one of a kind. But yes, there are other elementals. Fog's not the only thing in the world, sadly."

"What was your mentor's element, then?"

Remy sobers, and reaches out to clasp Virgil's shoulder. "Thunderstorms. They were the Thunder Spirit."

Virgil stiffens. "Wait, does that mean- the rain, when I was dropped off?"

"It was them, yeah," Remy says softly.

"What-" Virgil's voice is rough. "What happened to the other one? The human?"

Remy sighs deeply. They drop their arm to their side, and their body follows, falling to sit suspended in their soft clouds. "They disappeared, having you. None of us knew it would happen. They just... melted into the storm. Your parent, the elemental, they were able to save you, but they couldn't save their lover. And my mentor, Thunder- they couldn't care for you, not the way you needed. So they dropped you off and saw that you were picked up safely."

Virgil feels his legs giving out. His parents- not in any of his daydreams had they been, well, magic. He'd thought- maybe if they were, they wouldn't have left him. Or they would have come back.

Distantly his brain wonders why he's not on the hard ground, and he realizes Remy has sent solid clouds to hold him up despite the jelly his limbs have become,

"...why didn't they come for me?" he asks his knees, tears leaking down his cheeks. "Thunder- why didn't they find me, all these years?"

The clouds of Remy's cheeks have grown darker, and small raindrops drip from them. "They were devastated, Virgil. They loved your parent, truly and utterly, and they blame themself for their death. And we experience time differently - it hasn't been that long, for them. They haven't recovered. But they asked me to watch over you, to make sure you were safe."

Virgil swipes at his cheeks. "Doesn't that make you a creep, then?" He glares at the foggy entity in accusation. "Watching me since I was a kid, then kissing me?"

"I was barely a 'kid' myself when they asked me to, I swear," Remy protests. "They were like my- what was your word - Aunties? They looked after me, showed me the ropes of my powers as a new being. I promise to you, I wasn't leering then, I was new and young and, perhaps, interfering more directly than the elders wanted by taking your hand all those years ago.

"There'd been too many oddities of humans and the mist," they continue. "Disappearances. Our cousins the fae causing mischief when we weren't watching. So the elders created me, to survey all that the mist touches."

"So. What. Your love is pure or some shit," Virgil drawls, acid dripping off his words.

"Yes," Remy answers simply.

If they'd qualified, or justified, Virgil could be more defensive, could refuse to believe it. But they just stare at him, glasses off, glowing eyes sincere.

"Oh," is all he can manage in response. Maintaining eye contact has a strange side effect of making his cheeks heat up, so he has a staring contest with his boots, instead.

"Babes, please look at me?" they ask gently.

Virgil can't ignore such a polite request, can he?

But it's a dirty trick. How can he maintain a tough, self-righteously angry exterior when Remy is smiling at him with so much liking in their eyes that the orbs might as well be glowing hearts?

"Can you forgive me, Virgil? For not telling you everything sooner?"

Virgil resists for all of a second before breaking into a broad grin. "You could convince me, somehow."

Remy grins, and lifts Virgil off his feet, fully suspended in the low-hanging clouds. "I'll do my best to be very convincing."

Virgil, the son of a Thunder Spirit and their human paramour, laughs, and pulls Remy in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts remy #ts virgil #omg look y'all i finished something #and it's sfw #fog spirit remy #half-human virgil #urban legends #country legends #roses writes fanfic

166 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter One): I'll let you in if you say it's okay

Notes: So, I’m taking inspiration from more than one lifepath start for my V and overall, I’m not sure how I feel about this first chapter. I’m not as confident in it as I have been in some of my other works and it’s undergone some heavy rewrites. But I’m officially sick of looking at it, so lets go. Still getting a feel for writing the cyberpunk characters too, tbh.

Word Count: 13083

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Internal Feels and struggles, (Aidan/V is very conflicted and struggling), Morning after sex

If you haven’t yet, please read the prologue: link here

Four years, a million miles, and a new alias later, not Aidan but V is standing in a motel bathroom, fresh from the shower. There’s a bruise forming on her chin from what she can’t remember. She touches up the two shaved slits in her left eyebrow, a pointless aesthetic choice given she wears a mask, she knows. But, she likes it and that’s what matters most. She pulls her bleached blonde hair back into a little ponytail, before brushing her teeth and changing.

She fastens her mask, a repurposed scav mask that she uses, not only to hide from her former family but to help her function in this world. No longer the green with red and pink faces the scavs use, it’s now black with white x-d out eyes and a wicked toothy grin. Vaguely cartoony and ominous, not her choice, but she’s far too nostalgic to ever change it.

Data and logistics flash across her vision, optic tech coming to life now that the mask is on. Finally, she puts in her hearing aids, the noise of the world coming back to her, the hum of a broken AC, the beat of a song coming from the radio, and a woman’s snoring drifting through the paper-thin walls. V pulls up her hood before she leaves the bathroom, ready to begin, her throat tight as she thinks of what the day holds.

I saw in you what life was missing

You lit a flame that consumed my hate

I'm not one for reminiscing but

I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace

The radio plays an old song from Ava’s favorite band, V knows the heavy drone of them anywhere, though she never can quite recall their name or song titles, only reminded of the days she pretended to give a shit about them in hopes it’d earn her at least a pity kiss. Why the hell the radio still plays music that old is beyond her. She turns her hearing aids volume down a little lower.

Music brought down to a hum, V’s attention turns to the bed, a woman who’s name she can’t remember is tangled in the sheets. Sun streaming through the window to shine on a bare freckled shoulder, the woman is around V’s age, maybe a year or two older with a pixie cut of dyed lilac hair. She fits in well with V’s track record of bedmates; unable or unwilling to give even half of what she got, leaving the nomad to take care of herself. But, as much as she’d appreciate an orgasm from something other than her own hand, she gets what she wants from them in the end; a glorified body pillow that helps her sleep.

“Mmm, you up?” The woman asks, stirring from under the blankets, she pushes a hand into her hair. She blinks her eyes a few times, before taking in V’s outfit, “you’re leaving already?”

V’s mask optics quickly reads lips, giving the world subtitles, essential when she wants to forgo hearing aids. The tech is far more advanced than the human eye when it comes to lip reading. The only downside is the mask requires someone to be facing her as they speak. So, the hearing aids are still necessary unless people are kind enough to accommodate her; which they never are.

“Gotta get back on the road,” V signs, a modulator translator in her mask speaks it in a monotone AI voice.

“You don’t wanna get breakfast or…?”

“No time,” V crouches down beside the bed, so she can properly meet the woman’s eyes and, “you remember what I told you, don’t you?”

“About not telling anyone what you look like or whatever…?”

“No whatever’s to it, if anyone comes around asking about me, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

“Yeah yeah, crystal clear, asshole.” The woman groans, not liking the aggressive tone V’s picked up, but it’s a serious matter. Most people get it, everyone nowadays seems to have enemies, but apparently not everyone understands. More flies with honey as they say.

“I’m sorry,” she signs, “it’s just important to me, life or death. I’ll order some room service for you before I go, sound good?”

“Hmm…I like pancakes.”

“Alright, I’ll put the order in then head out.”

“Okay…I won’t tell anyone, about you, promise.”

“I appreciate that,” V signs, putting in the room service order on the tablet provided.

Thankfully, pancakes are enough to earn the woman’s silence on the matter. The less people who have a bone to pick with her, the better. Though, she still hopes The Herd can’t follow her where she’s going anyway. Dufflebag thrown over her shoulder, V leaves the motel, stepping out into the dry heat of California. Even in the early months of 2077, the desert is burning hot, though it will be freezing by nightfall. The joys of the Badlands.

Yucca is a little nothing town south of Night City, surrounded by long agonizing stretches of desert. Not a place she’d give another thought to if not for her vehicle breaking down. The cargo in the trunk, locked up so the mechanic can’t get nosy, is meant for a client in Night City. The job came with forms and docs that’ll get her past the border.

She rolls up the metal garage door to the shop, seeing the older man in a trucker hat and flannel working over her car. The old Thorton Galena “Rattler”, bought off a Bakker nomad, who thankfully had no idea who her birth family is. It’s put together with rust, duct tape, and luck, bought for fifty eddies because it’s a walking tetanus trap; but it’s hers.

“Hey…drifter…” He greets her with a weary expression.

There’s two kinds of folks in these small towns that are scattered across the country like stars. Those who are weary of outsiders, know the dangers that lurk across the Badlands and have their guard up the moment someone they don’t know shows up. And for them, her refusal to show her face or speak with her own voice only adds to the suspicion.

And then there’s the other ones, the ones like that lilac haired girl still curled up in dusty sheets, eating shitty motel pancakes. The ones who see her, the people like her, the nomads, the drifters who travel the country and they see someone who can bring a moment of excitement to their dull little lives. The ones bored to tears with watching tumbleweeds all day and will climb in bed with V and their own preconceived notions of who she is just to have a night of excitement.

Each sees danger when they look at her, chaos in human form, someone who may just disrupt the status quo of their piss-pot of a town. An idea that terrifies or excites them. Then the realization hits that she’s just breezing through, a ghost without a trace. And for a moment they’ll be relieved or disappointed, then they’ll forget she was ever there.

“You got my car fixed?” she signs before she rolls the garage door down a foot or two shy of the ground.

“Not quite, electric coupling module is shot to shit.”

“You said it was an easy fix.”

“Guess I was wrong,” he turns to face her, arm crossed over his chest, “you could always find a new shop, find someone else who won’t question some scav lookin’ nomad why she’s hugging the border.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ scav, move,” she signs before shoving him away from her car engine, if he can’t get this thing up and running, she’ll do it her god damn self. She needs to get to Night City, yesterday, she’s already frustrated and him acting like he’s doing her a favor by staring at her engine for an hour isn’t helping.

“Got any idea what you’re doing?” Condescension drips from the mechanic’s words.

“Gonna, rig a hotwire, bypass the coupling.” She switches out some plugs, trying to find something, anything that will save her heap.

“Compressor will run on and on, could seize up.”

“Better than standing around scratching my head.”

She walks around her Rattler, pulling open the driver side door and climbing in. Please, any god listening right now, don’t fuck this up for her. V presses down the ignition and tries to rev the engine; sputters but doesn’t start.

“It’s like I was telling you,” the mechanic grumbles, so she tries again and another sputter.

“Fuck off,” she signs, wishing the tone of the AI voice would better convey her frustration as she begs her car, her baby, to start.

Come on baby, she thinks and her hands twitch to sign, her voice catching. Her desperation nearly making her verbal. Her rattler, her baby, her beautiful heap of rust and luck has carried her through three years in the Badlands. Just a little further, into the city, and V will find her a decent mechanic to give her vehicular child the treatment she deserves. She presses the ignition and revs the gas.

And that engine roars to life and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, her baby lives, she fucking lives! V can’t contain her smile, thankfully hidden behind the cover of her mask, she could scream. She’s starting the next chapter of her life with her baby by her side.

“Not too shabby, question is how long will it last you,” the mechanic rains on her parade as he shuts the hood.

“Better than whatever you were trying.”

V rolls her eyes and gets her walkie talkie radio out, hooking it to a jack in her car to try to boost a signal; she needs to let her client know she’s coming into the city, so they can prepare to pick up the cargo.

“Antennae on this heap don’t look like it packs much of a punch, doubt you’ll hear much.”

There was a broadcasting comms tower outside of the town, she saw it as she made her way in, she’ll get in and boost her signal with it. Should be fairly easy. She just wants to make it into the city, her chance at a new life. Seventeen years with The Herd, under her father’s thumb. Three years running, never able to settle down, never knowing when her family would find her when she’d be put down. Years wasted, she’s ready to live, to really live on her own fucking terms.

A flash of khaki fabric, visible through the opened gap in the garage door catches her eye and a chill runs down her spine. Trouble. Black cybernetic hands catch the bottom of the metal door and roll it up; an older man in a sheriff’s uniform with a cowboy hat comes strolling in.

“Hey, Mike, didn’t know you had a customer…” He draws out, looking over V as if she was carrying the plague.

“Just rolled in a few hours ago, I, uh, thought she would have told you.”

“Now, don’t you worry, we’re gonna hash this out,” the sheriff says, strolling over to her, he puts an arm up on her car roof, leaning against her open car door and looming over her, “Don'tcha know you owe the sheriff a word when you pay his town a visit? To tell him what brought you here, maybe even over a cup of coffee.”

“You that hard up for dates?” She signs in return, catching a muscle twitch of annoyance, and she smirks behind her mask. Five seconds in and she’s getting under his skin.

“Names Andrew Jones, you probably heard of me.”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Served in special ops in the last war, silver shoguns, ring any bells?”

“Can’t say that it does.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles, “don’t like to get along, do you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He scowls at her as he shifts his weight off her door and moves to walk in front of her vehicle, looking it over. His foot raises up, dirty boot now on the grill of her car and she wishes nothing more than to just drive forward and run his dumbass over. She doesn’t have fucking time for this; her client is waiting. She doesn’t even want to be in his dumbass little town; she already fucked the only good thing here and found nothing but disappointment.

“That a nomad vehicle? I might have figured. Scav mask, nomad car; what that make you?”

“You got a problem?”

“I’ll tell you what my problem is, nothing boils my blood like a fuckin’ stray. Where your clan pitch camp?”

“No camp, no clan, just little ole me, aren’t you lucky?”

“Don’t buy it, nomads always stick with their pack.”

“Got no pack, they don’t suit me much.”

“Makes you an outcast among outcasts.” He sneers at her, looking down his nose at her, like he’s something special and she’s gum stuck on his shoe.

“Let me guess, you’re the type of guy who believes every line of shit the corps feed you, that nomads are the world’s greatest evil.”

“No, I’m a man who respects order, corps brought us that order-”

“The corps pay you and have you on a leash like a dog, you know that?”

“And you don’t wanna see me bare my fangs.”

“Try and I’ll put you down,” V’s fingers move before she can give another though, no interest in making peace with this asshole.

“You threatening me, girl?”

“No more than you are me, stay out of my way and I’ll get out of yours.”

“Big talk coming from a misfit.”

She lets out a short laugh, the sound layered with her modulator, making it louder and doubled.

“Look, I’m not scared of some shithole town’s sheriff who thinks a badge is a crown,” she signs, hands moving so quick and hurried that the sound of skin hitting skin rings out, “I want to leave your town, you want me gone, move your ass and I’ll make us both happy.”

“Get going,” he moves out from in front of her car, “I got no mind to see you drifting around these parts.”

“What part of this conversation made you think I want to?” She finishes signing before slamming her car door shut.

“What was that drifter?” His voice fades away as she guns it out of the repair shop, rolling her eyes behind her mask.

Though, maybe breaking into the communications tower is technically drifting, but she needs to radio her client. Sinclaire will need to know she’s coming into the city, so they can meet up, exchange eddies for cargo, and she can figure life out from there. She takes a road that goes north and cuts through the desert, her Rattler practically born for off roading as she takes the heavy bumps of the sand dunes and drives through cacti, pulling up to graffiti covered bumpers just outside the fenced in tower.

It's an amalgamation of latticed rusted metal with satellites on top, graffiti decorating the buildings and chunks of the tower itself. It clearly hasn’t been used or maintained in years, but it should still boost her signal. V climbs out of her vehicle, trying to open the door to the fencing. It doesn’t budge at all and she pouts, then kicks it as hard as she can. Her steel toed boot works as well as a key, making it swing open.

It’s a quick little journey, two little flights of stairs she jogs up with ease. Then it’s a ladder, the peeling yellow paint sticking to her palms. And then she’s as high as she can reach, transmitter box in view. But with the view around her, wind whipping through, she takes a moment to peel off her mask and breathe. Sun beating down and warming her face, the breeze cools her skin under it’s rays, wicking away sweat that sticks to her brow.

A deep inhale of air before she forces herself to move again, the rusted front of the transmitter box breaks at the hinges when she opens it, she pays no mind and throws it aside then jacks in her walkie-talkie radio. V leans against the tower railing, radio in hand, but not ready to let go of the quiet.

The smell of rust and paint surrounds her as she takes everything in. She’ll miss this, she realizes, the open road and the Badlands have always been her home. But it’s not safe, not really. The Herd has shown no signs of letting this go. For four years, she’s dodged her sister and Ava; the two tasked with being her trackers, repeated close calls over all this time. They’ve interrogated and demanded answers from the folks in these sleepy little towns she breezes through. The mask has helped, but every day the feeling of them nipping at her heels gets worse. Her stomach churns at the lengths they’ve gone to. V’s father wasted no time in turning her sister against her, turning Eira into a weapon to do his bidding, to put down the defected child who never should have made it past nine.

He’ll kill her for not falling in that same line, for refusing to be his soldier. Forced to choose between death or conformity, practically one in the same, she tries to seek a third option.

Night City has its own rules, laws, restrictions; a city completely controlled by corps. It’s disgusting in its own right. But The Herd isn’t allowed in the city, border control of Night City has strict orders to keep all known or identifiable members of the Raffen Shiv clan out. Corps hate Nomads, as a general rule, but they really hate The Herd. A Nomad family with no respect for anyone else’s laws, a strong anti-consumerism, anti-cyberware, and anti-corp attitude; The Herd might as well send a personal fuck you to Night City. Its not perfect, not even good, a crime infested corp run cesspool, but it’s the safest option. More security, more boundaries, more faces so V can blend in. Even if Eira and Ava make it into Night City, which she’s not naïve enough to believe impossible, they’ll have six million folks to work their way through. Nomads stay in pack because groups provide safety; a sea of city faces is just an extension of that.

But that safety comes at a cost. It means no more open spaces, no more serenity, no more campfires with burnt marshmallows, or driving down dirt roads as fast as she can with her windows down, and screaming out in excitement as she takes on every bump and turn with reckless abandon.

There’s no perfect choice, every decision carries a sacrifice, but if the cost of staying in the Badlands could mean her life, her freedom, her identity… the city is the better option… she thinks…

A pessimistic or perhaps realistic part of her can’t help but feel like he’ll get his way, her father will have her head on a pike, will slaughter his own daughter like cattle. And his power over The Herd will only grow. After all, if he’d go this far to put down his own child for an act of betrayal, how could anyone else ever think to be spared his wrath. The already loyal army of followers will be further forced into submission by fear.

Maybe this is all a waste of time, she wonders, often does. Maybe it’s just dragging out the inevitable. Hell, a part of her wonders if she’d be better off begging for mercy, if he’d offer it just to maintain control. Would she be safer if she just gave in? Is she really the kind of person who needs to be half of a whole to function, to feel safe?

But, is it wrong to want something more? To be able to look back at her life, no matter how long or short it may be, and know she lived, that she gave it all she had. That she stayed true to herself, whoever that is. To prove that she doesn’t need them, that she isn’t a burden depending on others to carry her weight. She can make something of herself in Night City, can live on her own terms, even if only until the inevitable comes knocking at her door. It will be a bit of breathing room, a chance to just be, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder.

Family was meant to be her security, her safety, but were they ever really? V shakes her head, if she goes down every thought pattern, every reason, every doubt, every feeling; she’ll be here forever.

She pulls her mask back down and radios her client after another moment of soaking in the breeze, it's odd they didn’t go through a fixer, but frankly she doesn’t care. A middleman who takes part of the cut isn’t ideal for her either. She’s looking for the past possible new start and the more eddies in her pocket, the better that’ll be.

“V?” Sinclaire speaks her alias once she gets through.

“Speaking,” she signs, as always thankful her mask spares her voice in moments like this.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Hit a snag, but I’m on my way into the city now.”

“That’s what I like to hear, once you’re through the border radio me and we’ll talk meet up.”

“The docs you sent,” she signs, thinking to the falsified passport docs he had sent out her way, “they should get me through border check.”

“Absolutely, border control barely checks ID on customs, but that little pamphlet will breeze you through.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Don’t worry V, this is a piece of cake. You’re gonna love Night City, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah? That so?”

“Mmhmm, once we finish the trade off, I’ll show you around. There’s a place in Wellsprings with synth steak to die for, I’ll treat you.”

“Sounds like a plan, I’m heading out now.” She agrees easily, it’ll be better to have more connections in the city, people she gets along with well enough and know the place better than her.

“See ya soon.”

Her client doesn’t know her exact clan, just knows she needs papers to get into the city. There’s more than one group of Raffen Shiv that aren’t allowed in city limits; hell she’s pretty sure Wraith’s aren’t. Though, corps make special deals to let them in when they need work done. As shitty as they are, The Herd has yet to whore themselves out to that degree, one thing she can still respect about her father. She fiddles with the leather cuff bracelet around her wrist, that hides the small crown shaped brand that he placed on her skin as a child, his way of marking his blood family. She’s considered taking a knife to it, but some part of her isn’t ready to.

V’s steps are hurried as she leaves the comms tower, heavy boots stomping over metal as she makes the quick journey back to her Rattler, the red beast of a car waiting where she left it. She climbs into the vehicle and twists the vehicle around. She follows the dirt road back out to the highway, headed out to the city.

She races back through the little town, picking up as much speed as she can, wind whipping through the open windows. Yucca is a blink and its gone, V having cruises right through the nothing town and continuing down the highway. Empty stretches of desert decorated with cacti as she races down the expanse of roadway.

Then the signs warn her of border crossing, nearing the city, her heart rate picking up as she grows closer to changing her life. A border checkpoint, enclosures and offices with an overpass above the divided lanes of the highway. Each lane leads to a border control officer with holograms labeling what each lane is for based on why someone is coming into the city; whether or not they have cargo to check. She slows down, so she can pull off her mask, the less suspicious she looks the better. Border guards aren’t going to stand for being questioned by The Herd, so its minimal risk.

She switches over to the lane for customs check, pulling up to the raised blockade, beyond it another car coming through is scanned. An armed border guard not far away and she waits as the vehicle is giving the go ahead to leave; blockade coming down and guard ushering her to drive forward. V drives that little bit forward; cement yellow blockades raise before and behind her vehicle. Locking her into place makes her uncomfortable, like she can’t escape.

“Stay in the security check area,” a guard tells her over the intercom, like she would have tried to drive through the blockade without his warning. A beat i silence, a minute or two passes as the scanners run along her car.

“Would the owner of the vehicle please report for further questioning.”

V grabs the falsified passport, manifest marked LOA, and the bribe chip for good measure. She keeps her head down as she gets out of the vehicle, makes her body language small as she walks into the office building. Maintaining a non-threatening demeanor in order to ease any friction that may come her way. The door automatically opens, a waiting room of people and a desk behind bulletproof glass where a worker stands. A map of the New United States across one of the walls.

“If you’re armed, leave your weapon here.” The worker behind the desk calls out and V unholsters her revolver, allowing him to check it and put it in a drawer, “report to room two.”

She nods, feeling naked without a weapon on her hip, but she knows this is the way of things. V turns the corner, finding the door with a two marked next to it. She opens the door and a lump forms in her throat. It's a small cramped little excuse of a room, a guard already at the rinky dink desk and a chair in front of it. She takes small timid steps to the chair, discolored with either dried blood or rust, she can’t be certain. The man is dressed in a neon vest; some sort of either goggles or optic implants over his eyes that scan her over as she sits down. He wastes not a second in lighting a cigarette and her nose wrinkles as smoke billows to fill the small room. She can already feel the stench of it clinging to her clothes and wishes she could snatch it from his hand.

“Papers?” he asks.

She hands over the manifest, her falsified passport, and the credit chip without a word. Metallic implant augmented fingers put the cred chip aside to look over the little blue document, then he places the paper over the cred chip, hiding it from prying eyes that may peek into the office. Meanwhile, V tries to maintain her most innocent of expression, puppy dog eyes primed if any issue arrives. Small and adorable has few benefits in this world; but she plans to take advantage where she can. Being underestimated, assumed to be weak or docile, as much as it hurts does have perks.

“What are you transporting?”

“It’s all in there,” she signs in response, because frankly she has no idea what she’s transporting. Some corp crap.

“Hmmm, tell me, who do you ride with?”

“Bakkers,” she lies through her teeth, her car was bought off one, so it seems like an easy enough excuse.

“They stop installing personal links?” He asks, puffing out a plume of smoke, his gaze on her linkless palm.

“Religious reasons, most of the clan has them, but my mom raised us to stay ‘ganic, god given, ya know?” She signs, a practiced excuse for when she’s asked about her lack of implants. Same as the excuse laid out in the passport.

“Is that so…” he takes a deep drag off his cigarette and V bites her lip not to say anything she’s hit with another face full of smoke, “you know, times like this I’m so glad not to be on the other side of that table.”

“Feelings mutual,” she signs before she can even consider stopping, aggravated by this man’s entire existence at this point. She gave him all the documents, this should be done with by now.

“Go on now.”

She jumps at the chance to be excused, taking in a deep fresher breath of air when she’s released from the smoke box of an interrogation room. V runs a hand through her hair as she turns the corner. There’s another armored guard standing beside the desk now, his eyes doing a lazy look down of V’s frame.

“Don’t forget to collect your personal items.” The worker behind the desk tells her and she stops there, giving him a raised eyebrow before he goes to collect her gun, “be careful with that toy and welcome to Night City.”

As much as she’d like to gripe about the toy comment; as if she’s a child, she can’t help but find herself smiling at the greeting. She’s finally here, finally getting into the city. A life on her terms; a little breathing room between her and the clan. V holsters her gun, grin playing on her lips.

“Those little shits all imagine Night City to be some sort of paradise,” the armored guard comments about her, but not to her, looking over her to the worker behind the desk.

“What are you gonna do they’re all young, naïve, which is just another word for ignorant.” The worker replies and V’s grin has died, maybe that’s the case for others, but Night City is exactly what she needs. Her situation isn’t the same. She doubts those young ignorant kids they’re talking about were running from their own death.

She shakes her head, not worth the effort it’d take to respond, V leaves the building. Her Rattler a short distance away, she’s nearly bouncing as she rushes towards it, climbing into the driver’s seat. Even the overpass above her has words welcoming her to the city, she’s sure she won’t find paradise, but there...she’ll make this life her own.

There’s barely a blip of distance between her and the border check when she sees them. Black corporate vans coming towards her, her heart jolts into her throat and sweat edges along her skin.

“Fuck!” V curses out loud, border fucker tipped off the corp.

“Stop the vehicle! You are transporting corporate property!” A voice rings out from the vans and V takes a sharp turn off the road, her baby is meant for off roading after all.

“I repeat, stop the vehicle!” The corporate voice yells out again.

“Stop the vehicle,” she murmurs in a whiny voice to herself, mocking the corpo, “give us back our stuff, stop committing crimes, wah, wah, wah.”

She rolls her eyes, amused by her own bullshit as she punches in the keypad of her Rattler, starting up the automated turret attached to the roof. It’s not the most high tech system, but it has a lock on function and should get the job done. The sounds of bullets pinging off metal creates a cacophony around her as she careens through an abandoned rural area, taking sharp turns to try to shake them. V takes out her hearing aids to stop her forming headache and focus on what she’s doing. The rumble of her turret shakes the car as it fires, letting her know its still working fine. Glass break out of the back of her car, a bullet piercing through, her back sprayed with the shards. She’ll be digging a bullet out of her dashboard later, she’s sure.

A bright flash of orange, flames enveloping a van as her turret hits a gas tank the right way. One down, two to go. She keeps the pedal to the floor, speed topping out as she races away from the approaching vans. Another sharp turn and she watches as a van crashes into a wall, one last stubborn fucker.

There’s a slight tense to the vibration of her turret overhead, bullets hitting the top of it, aiming to disarm it, as she goes through another turn. A shot bursts through her side mirror, assholes, do they have any idea how much it’s going to cost her to repair this heap. More than it’s probably worth.

The vibration that shakes her car settles down over her head, turret no longer firing, but the van is still chasing her. It fucking jammed, her turret fucking jammed again, of course it did. V hauls off and punches the roof of her Rattler, right beneath where the turret is, used to this issue at this point. As always, the hard punch manages to spur it back on and it fires up again, blasting at the last van at full speed.

A bullet hits the corpo van’s front tire, knocking it off path; final one down.

“Suck my dick, Arasaka!” She screams out for no one else to hear.

She’s grinning as she finds a collection of abandoned trailers and garages, pulling into one, she’ll need to call her client, figure out a meeting place. They may want her to lay low for a bit until Arasaka calms their tits about this. But she’s in Night City, finally, what could go wrong from here. Cut out a nice living for herself, solo work or maybe something else, who knows. Get herself a place and do whatever the fuck she wants from there. She slides on her mask, puts her hearing aids back in, and rings her client.

“Sinclaire?”

“V, you make it over the border yet?”

“Yep, out just south of Pacifica according to the GPS, little run in with the corps but I shook them. When and where you wanna meet?”

“Little China, you know where the old Club Atlantis is?”

“Not remotely, but ping me the coordinates and I’ll find it.”

“Sending it to you now, think you can get there by three am?”

“Yeah, no problem, prefer to do this under cover of darkness?”

“Much prefer, see you soon, V.”

V hangs up the call and punches in the coordinates he sent, GPS map firing up to tell her where to go. She pulls out of the abandoned garage and gets herself back out on the road, driving further into the city.

She doesn’t like driving in the city. V determines about a minute into being into the actual bulk of the city. There’s neon signs and adverts everywhere she looks; most displaying someones ass or tits. She wouldn’t consider herself a prude, far from it given just how many people she’s spread her own legs for, but she does appreciate some decorum… These are sleazy, dirty…

And there’s traffic. Even at the late hour, people are on the roads, and they’re slow. So, fucking slow. Move, your asses. A motorcycle might be a good investment, she’d be able to just ride between traffic or weave through the other cars.

She manages to reach the spot before three am, though she wants to scream by the time she arrives. The building blends in easily, just another large shuttered up structure with graffiti covering its outside; symbols for the Tyger Claws, because correct spelling is a bad look for a gang, apparently.

V lets out a huff of air as she gets out of her car to wait; examining the little bloody scratches on her shoulders and arms where the glass hit her. Nothing serious, a splash of rubbing alcohol to disinfect and she’ll be fine. But there is a slight sting to the injuries that make moving her arms and shoulders uncomfortable. Corpo fucks. V leans against her car, taking in her new city.

And she shouldn’t be amazed, she knows that. The traffic drove her nuts and she’s been in landfills that smelled nicer. But despite it all, she finds herself impressed at the buildings that stretch on into the heavens. The bright lights and neon against a dark sky is gorgeous; a high vantage point and she’s sure it’d look like something out of a movie. She finds herself in awe as hope nestles its way into her chest.

Not perfect, nothing ever is, but she can work with it. She can build something here.

A sharp honk gets her attention, disrupting her moment of reverie. The street and road have been abandoned mostly; only her and the limousine coming to a stop next to her. She gives a slight wave to the driver, then forms a V with her fingers, as if they needed any more indication of who she is.

The driver is not her client, instead a big bulk of a man with gorilla arms implants, black metal for fingers, he gets out of the driver’s seat and a similarly sized man steps out of the back seat. Her client’s got muscle around him it seems, maybe he just wants to make sure she doesn’t get squirrely and try to pull something.

Both guards out, they open the backseat door close to the street and her client finally emerges. He’s not a particularly tall man, though as with most adults, he is taller than her. Sandy slicked back hair and unnaturally bright green eyes; likely optics.

“V, darling, nice to see you in the flesh, you got the goods?”

“Right here,” she signs before moving behind her car, opening the trunk so he can see the Arasaka cargo crate.

“Fantastic, load it up, boys.”

“Woah, woah,” V signs and sits on the crate before the two bodyguards can grab it, “eddies first, then you take the cargo.”

“Oh, V, honey…” His voice drips with condescension and a chill reverberates down her spine, “you did good work, only a shame you’re so naive.”

“The fuck do-”

Pain cracks through her skull, knocking V off the cargo crate and onto the ground. Another sharp thwack of pain across her head and back; something blunt striking her before she can get up. She groans out as she rolls over onto her back, looking up at the bodyguard who’s holding a baseball bat, what looks like blood staining it. Her head and back hurt; her head spinning and she’s unable to get her bearings.

“Load the cargo into the car.”

“What do you want us to do with her?” One of the guards asks Sinclaire and he looks down at her, like a cockroach.

“Eh, no one will come looking for her. Might as well throw her away with the trash,” he kicks her side, sneering when she grunts in pain, “give her another hit for good measure.”

“Got it,” the guard nods and starts to raise the baseball again, high above his head for a hard swing and she instinctively twists to give him the back of her head again.

“We’ll scrap the car, ge-”

And then the bat comes down on her, a rush of pain before consciousness slips from her grasp.

Time loses all meaning when the world is blacked out, but eventually the light filters back in and her senses return. She can feel her hearing aids still in and its reaffirmed by the sounds she hears, the faint murmur of people. The smell around her is awful, disgusting, and she can feel stuff around her. Plastic bags scratching at her skin, something wet touching her arm. Her mask shifted and she forces herself to move, she pulls it back in place, blinking.

Garbage bags, some intact and others shredded. He actually had her thrown into the trash, that son of a bitch. V pushes the trash bags off of her, city lights starting to glimmer through, neon against a black sky. She finds a metal edge of the dumpster and pulls herself up, body still aching in protest as she emerges from her would be grave. Cold air hits her bare arms, the city far colder in the early months than the Badlands. She’s in an alleyway dumpster and she hears gasps of shocks, turning to see civilians shocked to see someone climbing out of the trash. She’s be ashamed if she weren’t so furious.

V punches the side of the dumper, feeling it reverberate with the force, this was supposed to be her shot at a new life and now she’s in a god damn dumpster.

She’s going to kill Sinclaire, she’s going to fucking kill him, son of a bitchfucked her over and he’s going to pay with blood. But how the hell does she even reach him? He never gave her details of where he spends his time or let alone where he lives. Hell, she doesn’t even know where she is. She needs her car back and her luggage from it, she doesn’t even have a change of fucking clothes as it stands right now.

“What time is it? Where am I?” she signs at the civilians, still straddling the edge of the dumpster, maybe they can be some help.

“Uhhh, like 10pm? And Heywood…?”

So, he dragged her away quite a bit, so...maybe he frequents the area. Still doesn’t tell her much, she needs to find him. And she needs to find her car, but how the fuck does she accomplish that?

“Don’t suppose you have any idea where I could find Luke Sinclaire, do you?”

“Uh, no,” the stranger kind of raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the whole situation, “but uh, you could always talk to Padre. He’s the local fixer.”

Of course, she’d have to get a fixer involved, not using one is probably what got her in this mess in the first place. Sinclaire knew she had no ties to her Nomad family, new to the city, and no fixer involved. He basically had license to do whatever he wanted without fearing someone would come for him or come looking for her. V touches the back of her head, fingers coming back red, dried blood matting her hair. He meant for her to die, she’s sure, but the blunt trauma wasn’t enough to do her in.

“Where’s Padre?” she signs, she doesn’t have money to pay a fixer but maybe they can work something out. She doesn’t want to lone wolf it and end up in a dumpster again.

“He has his own parish, but he’s usually at the El Coyote Cojo right about now, might be able to catch him if you hurry.”

“El Coyote Cojo, which would be…where?”

“Bar a little north of here, you really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Thanks for your help and stunning observational skills; I’m off.”

She pulls her hood back up over her head, hiding her bloody matted hair as she leaves the alley way and goes vaguely north. New chapter of her life, she’s injured, alone, broke, and smells like garbage.

Honestly, sounds about right for her luck. But, she’s far from given up. She navigates the Night City streets, stopping to ask a stranger where the bar is again before she finally finds it. She keeps expecting to get weird looks, like the ones that were usually sent her way in the small towns she’d visit on the road. But even with her mask, no one pays her much mind. And why would they?

V passes at least four more outrageous looking strangers along her way to the bar. People’s who’s entire body is made of gold cyberware, a woman with skin that looks like plastic, a cowboy with cybernetic arms and legs, and a girl with what looks like cat ear implants on top of her head. Things that make her stop and give a second glance, but no one here even minds. Night City has its own weirdness limit and her mask doesn’t even come close to hitting it. There's an anonymity she’s never known before and its kind of nice. Even bloody, mask on, trash covered; she’s just one face in a sea of millions.

El Coyote Cujo is a lowlit bar with traditional Mexican decorations across it and as expected in the evening, it has a fair number of patrons bustling around. People shooting pool, downing tequila, and chatting amongst themselves. And for the first time, she finds eyes landing on her. Not necessarily weirded out by her masked appearance, but more so wary of a stranger. She pays them no mind, employees here should know where Padre frequents or if he’s still here. There’s two she’s able to find right away; the bartender and a busboy. She starts with the bartender, walking herself over to a stool, he’s an older man with dark hair and a golden arm. He walks over to her once she’s sat, a smile bringing out the crows feet at the corners of his eyes.

“A new face, what can I get for you?”

“I’m actually trying to find someone,” she signs, “someone told me the local fixer, Padre, is a regular here.”

“Ah, he’s probably at his usual table upstairs, not sure he’s interested in taking on any new clients though.”

“I’ll see if we can figure something out.” She steps away from the bar and heads upstairs, its mostly vacant, making her task just a little bit easier.

Her gaze is drawn to an older man with sparsely any hair and age spots along his skin, a gold cross around his neck. A few men in tacky gold jewelry around him.

“Padre?” The AI modulator voice calls out and she sees the older man’s eyes land on her. His guards around him seem to tense, prepared for if she sends up being a threat.

“I’m not sure, I know you,” Padre comments, looking over her disheveled appearance. Being beaten and thrown in a dumpster doesn’t do much for your looks.

“You don’t, but I’m looking for a fixer, need help if you’re interested in hearing me out.”

“Come, sit.”

“Thank you, sir,” she signs before sliding into the booth seat across the table from him.

“How can I assist you, child?”

“So, a guy named Luke Sinclaire contracted me to smuggle corp cargo into the city, I go to meet up with him and he tricks me. Stole the cargo, sent my car to be scrapped, and had his gangoons drop me. I need help finding him so I can get the cargo, my car, and my dignity back. Maybe kill him too, depending on how I feel, but we’ll see.”

“You didn’t use a fixer, I take it?” He raises an eyebrow with the energy of a dad chiding a child for making a stupid mistake.

“No, I was desperate and it bit me in the ass, so I’m doing what I should have done in the first place.”

“And I’m to assume, you have no money with which to do this either?” He says, having read her like a book.

“I’m sorry to be asking favors the first time we meet and I don’t expect you to do this for nothing, of course, but I was wondering if we could work out an arrangement instead.”

“And what sort of arrangement would that be?”

“I’ll do a merc job for you, your choosing, I’ll take no cut of the profit; a completely free job in exchange for you helping me with this.”

“And how can I trust you to do this job well, I do not know you or your work.”

“Well, I’d do the job for you first, so if its crap you could not help me. I fully expect to get back what I put in, if I do quality work, you do it in return, I’m desperate here.”

“Come with me, Marcus, get the car,” he tells one of the bulky men who walks off.

Padre stands and follows behind Marcus, V follows suit as they leave down the stairs and out of the bar towards a dark little alleyway. Marcus pulls up a car and parks it for them. Once parked Marcus gets out and comes back to one of the backseat doors, Padre gets into the back on his own, Marcus opens the door for her. He silently beckons her in and she does what she’s asked, sliding onto the leather seat. Marcus shuts her door before going back around to the driver’s seat,

“Embers, pull up to the back where the ramp is,” Padre instructs Marcus of where to go.

And then the car pulls out onto the road. V fiddles with a curl of hair, fidgety and unsure of what to do, why they’re driving out away from the bar. Padre has a far away look in his eye.

“You’re new to Night City, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“And what is your name, I’m afraid I didn’t catch it earlier.”

“V.”

“V, I’ve lived in Heywood all my life, it’s roots are strong and watered by blood. Family is what pulls us through, no one is purely independent. The city is ecosystem, each individual playing a vital role that impacts those around them. The relationship between fixers and our mercenaries is an important one, not only is it mutual beneficial, but we keep each other safe. A lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way.”

“Can’t really argue with that…”

“People who-“

Padre pauses in his words looking out of the window and through it, V can see a car coming up alongside them. The car begins honking furiously at them. Nerves alight and chills slinking up her spine; she has a bad feeling about this. It has to be someone with a bone to pick with Padre.

“Shit!” Marcus curses, the first word she’s heard him say.

“Stop the car,” Padre says, with a calming hand on Marcus’s shoulder.

“What’s this?” V signs, worrying speeding up her hands.

“Business, you carrying?”

“Yeah….” V checks her waistband and her revolver is gone because why did she think Sinclaire wouldn’t take her gun, “No.”

Padre blinks, surprised she’s sure, because who the fuck would be unarmed in Night City. Marcus pulls to a stop, the car once beside them pulls around to park in front of them and a man comes out. He’s dressed in what appear to be green fatigues with a bullet proof vest. As he comes close to V’s window, she sees his gold implants catching the neon lights.

“Sebastian Ibarra,” the man says in a low voice, as V’s window is rolled down by Marcus, “looks like it’s my lucky day.”

The stranger leans into the window, his left hand is carrying a gun and he casually puts it into the window. Both arms are metal in nature, but they look far from top shelf, at least from her glance.

“What do you want?” Padre asks him.

“To settle our biz, once and for all. Got an offer for you, Paddy, so listen up. Get the fuck out of Vista, pull your boys off the street! I’ll give you the Glenn, done deal. No more restless nights, see how generous I can be?”

A beat of silence and V gives a glance at Padre, he seems far from amused with the man’s bullshit.

“Well, Paddy?!”

V lurches at his impatient yell, she doesn’t need this wannabe soldier turned gangbanger fucking up her deal. Her right hand grabs the back of his neck, below the base of his skull and her left grabs the gun. She slams his head against the car roof, his forehead gushing blood at the impact, the shock and pain makes his grip loosen and allows her to steal his pistol before letting him go.

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses as he stumbles back, seeing stars and touching at his forehead. She aimed for the soft flesh just before his golden mohawked implant began, blood now steadily streaming from the wound, “you’ll fucking pay for that.”

She points his own pistol at him, cocking the gun, asking the silent question of if he intends to be shot today.

“It seems our conversation has come to a close,” Padre speaks calmly, but when she turns she can see the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Careful Padre, never know who’s got a barrel at your six,” he threatens with blood coating his face like paint, “you neither shitbucket!”

“Now, I’m armed,” V signs to Padre, as she watches the man climb back into his car, defeated for the moemnt.

“Marcus, please.”

The driver pulls out and away, getting them back on the road, as if the exchange had never happened. There’s a moment or two of silence, as V tucks her new gun into her waistband. If Padre takes her up on her offer, she may need it, plus you can generally never have enough firepower.

“Many people come through the city,” Padre speaks after a beat of silence, “little shits who’s spines go soft the moment they’re looking down the barrel of a gun. And sometimes you get the odd soul, one who can truly hold their own.”

“Who was that?” She asks, unable to help but smirk behind her mask at the compliment. That she’s one of the odd souls, different from those little shits, that she can hold her own. V is far from incompetent, even if some shitbird got the jump on her.

“No one important, he’ll be gone in a week’s time. Another will take his place.”

“The ecosystem will take him out?”

“People who don’t know their place, soon find themselves without one. He’ll pay for what he’s done. You… paid for your misdeeds, for your misstep, but you’re finding your place now and within it you may thrive.”

“You got my place in the ecosystem all figured out?”

“Here,” he hands her a screamsheet, a magazine with an animated ad for a car, high-end The Legend of Aerondight, “only four in Night City.”

“That so?” It looks slick, she guesses, though certainly not her aesthetic. Its that weird rich person sort of design where it’s oddly shaped and proportioned, perhaps to be aerodynamic. All sleek silver and black, no character to it. She’d take her Rattler over it any day.

“First belongs to the Rayfield regional direction, second belongs to mayor Rhyne, third to a rental service. And my client aims to be the fourth.”

“Klep the car and you’ll help me?”

“Yes, I have a contact who works inside the parking structure near Embers, a club the current owner likes to frequent. He’s there tonight as well. My contact will cut the security camera feed and open the security gate for you.”

“Current owner, anyone I need to worry about?”

“An Arasaka corpo,” Padre informs her, because apparently, she hasn’t fucked with Arasaka enough in the past day or so.

“So, just hotwire it or?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’s hotwired a car, but fancy ones like this usually have a more complicated security system. Usually takes more than a knife and luck, which is her usual method.

“Not quite,” Padre pulls a little gadget, a silver and black device that he hands to her, “this should work like a key for the car, matches the ones used by Rayfield tech. Should open the lock and bypass identity authorization.”

“That sounds convenient…” Too fucking convenient, she resists adding.

“Kabuki has some excellent tech workers, but I won’t lie, it is a risk. I assume one you’re willing to take?”

“Got it, I’ll get the car.”

“Marcus, pull up here,” Padre tells the driver and they come to a stop, “you can jump down below, and before you go, take this V.”

He hands her a card, marked with his name and phone number, golden in color with a sword surrounded by roses. She rubs her thumb over the embossment, glad for her first contact within the city. Connections help.

“Your number?” She points out the obvious, not sure what else to say.

“Bring the car back to El Coyote Cujo and call me when you arrive, if all goes well, I’ll have your intel by then. And, I may just call on you for work down the line.”

“Understood, I’m off then.”

“Go with God, V.”

The guardrail drags along the side of the highway but there’s a breakage where it allows her enough space to easily jump over. Peering over it leads to an alley way, a closed dumpster just below. She hops over, dropping down onto the dumpster, she intends on last night being her last trash nap, so she’s more than a little thankful for it being closed. She hears a civilian let out a little exclamation but pays no mind as she jumps down onto the pavement. A quick walk down a graffitied alleway leads her to yellow road signs cutting across an open structure. Glowing vending machines beckon her to spend ennies she doesn’t have on energy drinks and burritos, a turn past them brings her to an elevator.

Slick glinting silver encompasses her as she steps into the alleyway; impressively clean compared to the absolute grime of the city. Likely to impress any corpos who come this way to get their cars. A quick tap of a button and the doors shut, elevator rattling as it descends down to the garage.

A beat of silence and the elevator opens up to a hallway; black, gunmetal gray, and teal accents. The wall declares which sector she’s in and an arrow on the far wall tells her where to turn, as if there were anywhere else to go. The turn around the corner puts her directly in front of two large black double doors; PARKING over them in clear bold lettering.

They slide open when she gets close and open up to the large parking garage, lights coming on as she sees all the slick fancy corpo cars. Sleek blacks and eye popping reds, none with any taste for design if you ask her. But nomads and corpos have...different aesthetics.

“Eh, something I can help you with?” A male voice rings out, bringing her attention to the little station next to the blocked off exit for cars. The contact, she presumes. She comes over to his open window, the man dressed in uniform.

“Padre sent me…” she signs, keeping things vague just in case this person has no idea why she’s here.

“Gotcha,” he hits a button, “cameras are blind, you got twenty minutes.”

She nods and goes looking through the cars, it’s the glow of neon that brings her to it. A parking spot marked off in the vivid blue glowing lights, they frame the Rayfield, and spell VIP on the wall behind it.

Time to test the tech, she holds the device next to the door and presses its button, a blue light flashing. And then the Rayfield’s door opens, sliding back and up in one fluid motion, exposing the deep burgundy leather seats. Shit may actually be going right for once.

She climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling wholly out of place in the plush designed car. The seat automatically adjusts to accommodate her, no doubt shorter than the owner, and the blacked-out windshield and window turn to crystalline clear glass. All that’s left is bringing the baby back to the bar and then she can get her intel on Sinclaire.

A red caution symbol flashes in the windshield and her body tenses; a bad feeling creeping in. No, her luck can’t be running out already.

Then the door opens and there’s a gun in her face.

“Get the fuck out!” A Mexican accented voice yells out.

If there is a god, he personally hates her, there is no other explanation, and she will fist fight him for his shenanigans. She looks up at the man standing before her, barrel at her forehead. He’s leaning down against the car, not unlike how the sheriff did to intimidate her back in Yucca. However, unlike the sheriff, this guy has the build to pull it off. He’s easily over a foot taller than her and wider than most doorway, all pure muscle with dark hair in a top knot, gold cybernetics adoring his face. She puts her hands up in mock surrender for a moment.

“Nothing personal, jaina, just biz.”

V goes to gun it, to stomp her foot down on the gas, but before she can the man has the back of her hoodie and is unceremoniously ripping her out of the vehicle.

“You fuckin’ deaf, chica, fuck out of the car, now!” He’s able to manhandle and pack her around like it’s nothing, like carrying a housecat.

She grabs the hand on her hood and digs her fingernails in, swinging her foot out to kick him while her other hand goes for her gun.

Then there’s a steady rev of engines, tires squealing and growing ever closer. Confusion coloring her assailant’s face and he drops her, looking around.

“The fuck…”

He starts to say and then there’s two police cars rushing into the parking lot, skidding to stops in front of them. And its fucking overkill, if she rang 911 because she was shot, they’d maybe send an officer out in three weeks. One fucking corpo has someone break into his car and it’s the end of the universe, need a full brigade.

The headlights of the cruises are blindingly bright and she struggles to adjust; putting her hands up as police officers come out with guns at the ready. It’s a car for fucks sake.

“Don’t move!”

Her attacker carefully slides his gun across the cement, to show he’s not a threat and maybe she’d consider doing the same if she cared; but she doesn’t.

“You’re under arrest!”

“Stay where you are!”

The police continue barking orders, as if the two hadn’t piece together what was happening or what was being asked of them. They’re not stupid.

“Hands where I can see them, nice and slow!”

He can already see them, why must they go through the rigamarole. She doesn’t have time for this shit.

“On the ground motherfuckers, right now!”

V is able to watch for a second, as a female cop cuffs and pushes the big guy onto the ground. Then in the next second she’s down there too, but they don’t cuff her like they do him. The officer only holds her hands down to the pavement, maybe they think because she’s smaller they don’t need the cuffs, at least not yet.

“Jackie Welles, my old pal from the hood,” a voice rings out, “See you haven’t grown an ounce wiser.”

“Hey,” big guy, apparently Jackie, responds and she shifts her head against the pavement to see him being held down in addition to the cuffs, “argh, Detective Stints, been a while, huh?”

“Inspector Stints,” the man responds now stepping out where he can be seen in front of the bright lights, he picks up the gun Jackie put down.

“Same shit,” Jackie says with a laugh.

“But you, you’re new,” Stints comments as he walks over and crouches down in front of her, looking over her face.

He waits, anticipating her to say something, but she talks with her hands and they’re currently pinned behind her back. And sure she possesses the technical ability to speak, her vocal chords do function. But she doesn’t, unless she’s alone or highly emotional. She used to talk to her mom, sister, and Ava…but those days are gone.

“Spit it out? Cat got your tongue?” Stints taunts and she still remains silent.

“Think her voicebox might be broken, Stints,” Jackie comments, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Pfft, probably just another piece of Heywood trash, another termite who’ll live and die here. Just like you Welles.”

“Fuck off, just tell us what you got planned,” Jackie grumbles.

“Gonna be booked, gonna do a stint, heh, get it?” He says with a grin.

“C’mon Stints, cut us a break, huh? You lock us up, we’ll just jerk off till trial and then what?”

She has no intention on jerking off anywhere, but alright.

“Worst case,” Jackie continues, “we get a few months, standing room only nowadays. In el bote. Hell, we’ll probably be out early.”

“These the thieves? Ordinary street trash,” a heavily accented voice comments, a Japanese man in a shimmery golden colored vest comes walking over.

“Shit, he’s here,” Inspector Stints groans before standing, “got them in custody Mr. Fujioka. We’ll be taking them, now.”

“It’s a waste of effort, I have no time to testify or play at an investigation.”

“Suggesting we let ‘em go, sir?”

“I’m suggesting you throw them in the sea; cuffed, legs broken, so this trash doesn’t float.”

And with that the man starts to walk away, making his way back to the club, she’s sure, continuing his night of debauchery as if he hadn’t ordered the murder of two strangers just because he could, because he didn’t have time for a trial. And god, she knows she probably has no room to judge anyone else’s morals, but just fuck corpos.

“You heard him,” the inspector says, because corpo cash pays his salary, she’s sure.

“Fuuuuck….” Jackie curses as they start to drag him up on his feet by the cuffed hands and she her own arms are wrenched back and cuffed.

V gets her feet back under her, moving with the pull as they manhandle her off the ground, she kicks back at the officer behind her. Her foot connects with their calf, causing them grunt out in pain as they’re knocked off balance loosing their grip on her wrists. She jumps as high as she can and brings her cuffed hands under her feet to her front.

Jackie follows suit, kicking the officer off of him, but with his size it knocks them flat on their ass. He shoulder checks another pig as V makes a dive for the Rayfield, it’s door still open amongst this chaos. She lands herself in the drivers seat and hits the ignition.

“Stop resisting!” Officers yell, fingers on the trigger, and no, that’s not happening.

“Wait up, chica!” Jackie yells out and she hits the button to open the passenger side door; he’s an asshole, but she’s not leaving him to be thrown in the fucking ocean.

He throws himself down in the passenger side and she guns it, doors shutting on each side as she takes the turn out the parking exit. She watches from the corner of her eye as Jackie, who’s barely able to fit in the bougie car, brings his cuffed hands down as low as he can. He grunts and curses, not quite as flexible as she is. With effort and twisting, he’s able to get the chain of the cuffs under his foot and then he stomps down while yanking his hands up. The little chain doesn’t stand a chance, breaking into pieces and pinging about the interior as it does so.

“Much better,” Jackie comments, looking at his wrists which now just have the manacles of the cuffs.

She rolls her eyes, bringing her attention back on the road and she expects to see sirens chasing after them, but it never happens. Are the cops not chasing them? They should be chasing them? Is she not getting in her second high speed chase since coming here?

“Honestly,” Jackie starts to talk again, he talks a lot, “I was just gonna let Stints free us, but I like the way you think, this way we get the Rayfield too.”

“What?” She takes a hand off the wheel to sign.

“Oh shit, you’re actually….my bad…” He awkwardly apologizes for asking if she was deaf earlier because, yes, yes she is.

“What do you mean, free us?”

“Stints is a softie as far as pigs go, got Heywood in his blood, would never throw us in the fuckin’ ocean cause some corpo said. And, you can slow down, he won’t chase us, chica.”

“Oh…okay,” she signs, pulling up to a curb, something else to take care of.

“We stopping here?”

“You are,” she signs before pulling her gun out and pointing it at him, signing with her other hand, “get out of the car.”

“Really, chica?” He rolls his eyes, like he didn’t pull this shit on her five minutes ago.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if I knew Stints was a softie, I got a job to finish, get out.”

“A fixer line this up for you?”

“Yeah…”

“Padre?”

“Yeah…are you gonna get out of the car or…?”

“Listen, I was gonna klep the car and then find a fixer to sell it for me, but if you already got Padre involved, we’ll go halfsies.”

“You pointed a gun at me!”

“You’re pointing a gun at me, right now!”

“You did it first!”

And he laughs and she does too, because they sound like children bickering over who pushed who on the playground. Its dumb and ridiculous and why does she like him? His smile is warm and kind, something about him, welcoming. She drops the gun, tucking it back in her waistband. She press her hand under her mask, trying to suppress her giggles. The tension that’s been clinging to her has snapped. Her body feels lighter, like she can breathe a bit better. She closes the passenger side door, he may be chill, or she’s just easily charmed. But, she’s still going to fuck with him, just a little.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go halfsies.”

“See, now you’re making sense,” he grins as they pull out back onto the road, “Jackie Welles.”

“V…it’s…nice to meet you? I think?”

“Heh, not from around here, right?”

“Nah, but, from the sounds of it you’re a local.”

“Heywood in my veins, chica, where we meeting Padre?”

“El Coyote Cujo.”

“Of course.”

“You know the place?”

“I’ve heard of it,” he says, grinning wide, a joke she’s clearly not in on, “Ah, I got a good feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“Us, you and me got chemistry.”

“Do we now?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you feel it too, heard that laugh.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she teases as she pulls into the El Coyote Cujo parking lot, pulling the slick corpo car into a spot, “got a phone on you?”

“You don’t?”

“I literally have lost everything I own, alright? Call Padre and put it on speaker.”

“Fine, fine,” Jackie gets out his phone and calls Padre, phone in one hand and the other stretched across the back of the seats.

“Jackie? To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Here with your newest find, V, we got the Rayfield.”

“You helped her out?”

“Well…”

“He pointed a gun at me and nearly had me thrown in the ocean.”

“Seems like I have a car and a story waiting on me, I’ll be there shortly.”

A pain aches in V’s head, migraine spreading across her temple as Jackie hangs up. She rolls the car window down, allowing the chill of the winter night seep in, hoping the fresh air will ease her pain. V wants a shower, there’s still blood in her hair and she’s sure she still smells like trash. Though, no one’s been cruel enough to point it out. But, she has no idea where she could grab a shower. Why the fuck does her head hurt so much? The pain a steady throb across her entire head. She pinches the bridge of her nose, it didn’t even ache this much when she first came too in the dumpster.

“You alright V?”

“Head hurts,” she signs, before turning off her hearing aids, hoping that shutting out the city sounds will help.

“When’s the last time you ate, chica?” Jackie says, making sure to stay in her eye line as he leans over the middle console, though his biceps nearly touch her even when he isn’t. Her mask reading his lips to give him subtitles. .

When was the last time she ate? She didn’t eat all day because she was in a dumpster passed out. The day before was the smuggle run and she didn’t eat before she left Yucca.

“Two days ago.”

“Fuckin’ for real, no wonder your head’s wonky, once we finish the deal we’ll get some grub.”

“What made you think that was why?”

“Ah, my mama gets those migraines when she stops eating from stress, Vik and me keep telling her to take care of herself, but she’s too busy taking care of everyone else.”

“You and your mom close?” V can’t help but ask, thinking about her own mother for a moment.

“Oh yeah, family’s important, gotta have people you can turn to out here.”

“Yeah…”

“What-”

Headlights shine in through the back glass of the Rayfield, bring their attention to Padre pulling into the parking lot. His arrival ending whatever question Jackie was about to ask, which may be for the best. She’s not ready to answer questions about family. Not when her head is throbbing, she’s filthy, and her stomach is empty. Padre’s driver comes to a stop and they see Padre gets out of the back. V turns her hearing aids back on, knowing it will make the conversation flow easier as her and Jackie get out of the Rayfield. Her arms collecting goosebumps from the air.

“Jackie, it’s nice to see you again, how have you been?” He greets Jackie warmly

“Ehhh, can’t complain, same old same old, making new friends,” he says with a grin, nodding his head towards V.

“Never can have too many of those. It’s always nice to chat once business is done.”

One of Padre’s bodyguards has already climbed into the driver’s seat of the Rayfield. Enging revving up and then fading off into the night as he leaves. Officially finishing up their business.

“Uh,” Jackie raises an eyebrow, “you getting senile on me, Padre, this is usually the part where eddies change hands.”

V’s smirking and trying not to laugh behind her mask. Padre gives a look at V’s direction and she looks down at the ground, pursing her lips so she doesn’t laugh.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Ah,” Jackie nods, like he gets it, “no worries, V agreed to go halfsie with me on the Rayfield gig.”

“Halfsies?” Padre raises an eyebrow, smiling at V, he seems to find her joke at least a little funny. V can’t help the giggle that spills out.

“Am I missing the joke here?”

“Well, I’m afraid, this was an unpaid job for V here.”

“What?” Jackie shoots her a sharp look, disbelief coloring his expression.

“Don’t spend it all in one place,” she taunts.

“Fuck you!”

She bursts out laughing, holding her stomach as she cackles behind her mask, the sound echoing strangely through it. But, she can’t stop.

“You stole a million eddie car for free!? The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“No, no,” she furiously signs, “I needed info.”

“Speaking of which, I have your intel here,” Padre says, handing her a shard.

“Give me a moment, my lungs hurt.”

“I’m glad you're entertained, that info better make you a billionaire.”

“Nah, personal shit,” she collects herself, “thanks, Padre, it means a lot.”

“You’re a good kid, make him pay, V.”

“Oh, I will,” V confirms, slotting the shard into a little opening on her mask, info displaying across it.

The name of a chopshop that rumors say had a nomad vehicle come in, her Rattler no doubt. Sinclaire’s address and regular hang outs, exactly what she needs. Hopefully, he hasn’t had time to sell the cargo yet. If so, she’ll axe him and klep all his shit.

“What happened?” Jackie asks.

“Well,” she signs, before taking the shard out, “Sinclaire contracted me to transport some cargo, no fixer, so he fucked me over the second he got a chance. Bashed me over the head, threw me in a dumpster, scrapped all my shit, and took off with the cargo.”

“So, that’s what that smell is?”

“I will throw you,” she threatens, but she’s rolling her eyes and smiling.

“I’d love to see you try, chica.”

“The chop shop won’t be open until morning and it’s late. It’s up to you, but I’d recommend resting for the night.”

“Yeah…” She signs, but she can’t help the slight pout. She has no money, no clothes, no food, no shelter. She’ll be sleeping on a bench or something tonight, not much rest.

“You did good work V,” Padre pats her shoulder as he leaves,” I’m sure I’ll have more jobs for you in the future, paying ones, of course.”

“Thanks again, Padre.”

She rubs a hand down her face, migraine still thumping around in her head. Between not eating and having her hearing aids in all day, her head feels on the verge of exploding.

“So, what’s the plan, jaina?”

“My plan, why do you wanna know my plan?”

“Because, you and I both know you’re up shit creek without a paddle here, V. No home, no family, no one to turn to. Night City ain’t a place that will let you get by on your own. Need people you can turn to, if you wanna survive.”

“And what, you wanna be my friend?” She raises an eyebrow, taken aback by just how kind and friendly he’s really been.

“Told you already, we got chemistry,” he grins again and it makes her smile, “be a crying shame to waste it.”

“Okay, friend, what do we do now?”

“You like chili?

“As a concept, sure.”

“Settled then, get you a hot meal, change of clothes, a shower ‘cause you fuckin’ need it, and crash with me tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“And tomorrow, we teach that pendejo a lesson, sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They’re all grins and smiles as they leave the parking lot, knocking shoulders together as they go, walking side by side down the neon lit streets. And she can feel it returning, that little buzz of hope she had in her chest when she first came here, the one she thought was beaten out of her by Sinclaire’s goons, it’s back and brighter than ever. Though not half as bright as Jackie’s smile as they turn a corner towards his mother’s house.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #c2077 #female v #fem v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #can you feel the sun

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sole-cuore-amore-e-droga · 3 years

Text

Bulgaria brings a mentally reassuring anthem to Rotterdam 2021

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I’ve said so that VICTORIA herself sort of agreed to have done “Tears Getting Sober” if she was allowed to, but for one I have to thank that EBU said that the artists can’t have their 2020 songs back? You’ll see why when I get to the review after two boring paragraphs of text with technical info, for the country that is Bulgaria!

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Victoria Georgieva (or VICTORIA, but I can’t be arsed to continuously capitalize her name so I’ll just say Victoria from now on) was born a singer, for she started to sing at the age 11, went to a specific school of angel voices (no really that’s what it was called), and tried to go to the X Factor while a liiiiiittle too young until realizing that she needed to wait for a few years, and wait a few years she did, and went on to the X Factor again.

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She didn’t win, but she still got to sign a contract and sing some stuff in Bulgarian before she decided to rebrand, started singing in English, and completely decided that ballads is her style. She cannot really do upbeat most of the time. So you can’t really have a bop from her in the future. (Well except that there’s a couple of songs in her discography that I personally classify as “bops” but they’re more like... idek sad bops?? but they can be danced to, but I get her, she doesn’t do anything that’s more loud and upbeat and clubby and summery kind of - in short, nothing you can go “YAAASSSS QUEEEEEN” over to.)

The entry she ended up singing, “Growing Up Is Getting Old”, is what I can describe to be about overcoming the emotional twists and turns inside of you as you grow older, because as it turns out, it ain’t what you thought it would be - but if you push just a little further, you realize that if you’re growing up, maybe the life isn’t so bad, afterall - you are able to get up. Somehow. It was written as part of Boris-Milanov-led songwriting camp held during summer, and a lot of people seemed to be a part of it because multiple different folk have songwriting credits on the potential Bulgarian entries this year.

REVIEW

Let’s get this out of the way immediately. I prefer “Growing Up Is Getting Old” to “Tears Getting Sober”. The former sounds a lot less irritatingly underwhelming and a lot more positively overwhelming you with warm emotions and sunglow. “Tears Getting Sober” was a song I could never really connect with - maaaaybe the last chorus is much better on there, but it doesn’t do much for me either, I guess.

Their 2021 forray however is a much different kind of thing - once again, going for lyrical non-cliches, Victoria tells a tale about her inner turmoils and continuing in life, in a way that’s personal to her and also kind of relatable to all of us. We all have these moments of fear and anxiety and nervous systems aching. If only there was someone who’d tell us that we’re worth saving... thanks a lot Victoria, you’re the MVP. Filling in the void that Netherlands from last year had brought us but not anymore - another personal song about getting old and having those kind of feelings inside - and doing a great job at taking the baton in the right way (even with featuring the word “grow” in both of the titles, neat coincidence).

Not only the lyrics feel like a hug, the song just emulates ray of sunshine and golden glitter coming down from the sky, Molly Sanden style. The violins in the G major key playing so precisely, building up momentum throughout the entire song, slowly but surely - starting with the ticking clock in the first verse that may have subtle violin in there; and the first chorus is just so simple piano, and then the second chorus has a tinge of electronic something, and the last chorus goes full in with the backing vocals boosting the song, after Victoria performs the quite magnificent bridge... now I don’t have synesthesia but I associate music keys with colors, and to me G major would always come across as something yellow or orange - “Growing Up Is Getting Old” is a perfect example of why’s that for me. And obviously, Victoria’s love for harmony-humming (even if there’s just one instance of it after she sings “star crossed soul”) complements the song to a T.

And it turned out to be a much better choice than last year’s. Maybe finally a female ballad I am getting behind.

Now I wanna know why the bookies don’t appreciate THIS entry as much as last year?

Granted, now it’s 2021 and the environment is so much different, and the songs have changed, and the dynamics have changed, and now there’s suddenly more competition at stake. And for Bulgaria it fares quite much more underwhelmingly - well, at this moment they’re like 6th, which isn’t bad, but there’s a lack of sung praises coming its way, not quite a feat that “Tears Getting Sober” actually achieved, being the bookies fave right before the cancellation of last year. In general the year has been pretty dry for the previous winner picks like Iceland, Lithuania and this, but I can’t say that the previous winner bets from 2020 are all that dead either? Though I gotta say that Bulgaria wasn’t gonna win 2020 anyway, so it’s a lose-lose in this case.

Also I just can’t at that music video being a little dramatic at the beginning, with the cancellation of Eurovision being presented as if it were a worldwide disaster during which we all shall lock ourselves into bunkers and wait until the better days, eventhough the panini is not war and war supplies kit is not just enough to survive it. But it seems like that the world is quite literally falling apart, as evidenced by Victoria going through all kinds of pathways away from her living room, meeting a (presumably) mini version of her somewhere in between, and literally surrounded by the shaking environment by the last moments of the song

before we realize it was just reality recursing from the TV’s point of view that Victoria was watching all along, and then she leaves the living room again, but in her world, everything is normal and she could just go wherever she wants by car. Even I can’t come up with a storyline ending that’s somewhat intertwined and all plot-twisty and more confusing than that. But props to her team I guess

Approval factor: Let’s say I somewhat approve this message. Follow-up factor: For the sake of argument let me just say that Bulgaria is moving on a great path, eventhough the former entry leaves me cold, at least the current entry keeps me warm at all times, like a cup of cocoa and a good blanket. Please Bulgaria, never run out of sponsors. Qualification factor: I’ve seen one or two people throw around the “surprise NQ” tag for this song and I don’t get why??? There’s no way that the tense atmosphere of semifinal 2 would sure-fire-ly kill Bulgaria, even if they have a lot less chances to win this year than they had the last one. There can be some shock NQs indeed though, and if there are, I am paging... uhhhhh Finland? Idk why but you might see what I mean if I ever get around to reviewing “Dark Side”. Bulgaria? Never. It may not win the semi but it will cradle around the top 7 somehow.

INTERNAL NF CORNER

That’s right, Bulgaria managed to do both.

At the time when one other of Bulgaria’s songs got released, within the *Special* Eurovision September 1st-onwards range, people naturally succumbed to their primal instinct of asking whether that’s her Eurovision song... only for Vic to probably announce this early on that no, it’s just *one* of potential ESC entries she’s harbouring. And the remaining potential ones were all on her debut EP. Who actually got a more well-orchestrated schedule for everyone to follow, and yet, people were much more keen to cling on the first EP song out of the gate, “Imaginary Friend”. Now I get that the fans of that song were super upset at the revelation that IF is not going, but it is a technically strong song for the sake of being a technically strong song, and I don’t want to think that Victoria is only forced to choose the songs that can win for her, so she’s such a sweetheart for gravitating towards a song she could dearly care about. So props to her team saving the initial winner for last to be revealed, lol.

Though wasn’t her personal favourite a Billie-Eilish-lite-upbeat-kinda-track Phantom Pain?

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Which was also my personal favourite?

Look, I know that favouring the only non-ballad in the whole lineup (well “Ugly Cry” is also not quite a ballad but its beat is kinda so-so, so I tend to ignore it) is kinda sus, also, y’all are sick to death to Billie Eilish comparisons, but I do believe that Billie would never be able to do an “Imaginary Friend” while Victoria could do a “Lovely”. This makes me remember the cover art of Billie’s debut album where she sits on her bed, dressed in white, and so is Victoria on this very MV, with strange shit going on behind her in the mirror. To the mirror, her reflection acts creepy, back again.

The other 2 I don’t feel like caring about enough, sure they got their cred, sure there’s one entry properly crediting Milanov (who seems to not have an actual entry this year that’s purely attributed to *him*, as opposed to 3 last year, 2 of which were performed by acts that returned this year????), sure there’s the funny thing about having a funeral song where out of this and Finland only Austria managed to send a quote unquote “funeral” song, but I think the funeral song would’ve sounded better if the pre-section of it on the “Phantom Pain” video was THE “funeral” song itself, and not whatever was that other funeral song.

In between there was a public sort of survey where people could submit feedback and positive words to Vic’s choices to help her decide - I didn’t get to vote but I feel fine with the winner eitherway, and that counts for something! And the end result was revealed at the very end of Victoria’s very own rooftop concert.

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The colors on the circle thingy of this, they were meant to symbolize all Bulgarian entries up to Victoria’s 2nd one, in pictograms that kind of reminded me of Coldplay attributing every song on ‘Mylo Xyloto’ its own little symbol.

The concert was not only full of music and also adverts for the inaugural sponsor iCard (that also included some element of foreshadow in between the suspense, you’ll see why), but also the Bulgarian folk talking before each song, saying all the positive nice words they can for Vic; that she’s talented, and that they were so excited that Bulgaria was doing well in the odds last year prior to cancellation, bla bla bla... also some people were proud of voting for Bulgaria outside Bulgaia, and they made puns about the forthcoming songs on the concert that they were introducing, and so on, and there was also someone called Dara, whom I really want to be sent by Bulgaria one day to show off that they’re not afraid of doing trashy-esque bops that don’t necessarily win

Also they reminded me that Lucy from No Angels (aka the sole reason Bulgaria 12′d Germany in 2008) still exists.

Also Azis.

There was also an intermission where Eurovision 2021 acts could say all the nice words to Victoria on their own part. And several artists chose to... how shall I put it... use up their several seconds rather interestingly. Like how The Roop would say something real quick only to delve into more of their usual “let’s dance, let’s discoteque! *hand scissors* ;P” self-promo, and Senhit carelessly being allowed to say whatever she wants in Italian without subtitles <3 Sorry sis, they’re only given to people from another white-green-red flag-color country.

About the iCard foreshadow... so there’s their advert about Victoria waiting in the line to get something in the Soft Vocals Store, and people ahead of her giving her money the standard oldfashioned way, and the old lady at the counter is... slow, to say the least. After a good amount of time spent waffling around, Victoria finally pulls out the iCard application and pays for the imaginary items she wants, then narrates some stuff about said application, and a Eurovision entry of hers plays when the old lady is at home, spending time in front of TV enjoying the music. Before the concert, the song that played was “Tears Getting Sober”. The advert played once more before Victoria’s big entry decision and entry MV reveal, and in place of the 2020 entry, “Growing Up Is Getting Old” was the one that sounded out loud... Now you may think that there were attempts at some sort of spoilage here, but after that ad before the concert EP NF result, there was this other advert starring Victoria that played “Imaginary Friend” at the end, a last-ditch effort to trick viewers into going “see? just because that ad played the chosen song doesn’t mean it’s the chosen song!! this song could as well be a chosen song as well!!” yeah no shut up GUIGO IS the chosen song kthxbyebye.

ANY LAST WORDS?

Having said all that praise, I actually have “Growing Up Is Getting Old” fairly low on my ranking. It’s just because the year is so damn good and I have a lot more songs to care about more than this, but I appreciate the gesture that this singer is sending very much. Good luck on your road to conquer Europe, Victory-ia, I’m sure you get the best of the experience and all, because you would deserve it.

#eurovision #eurovision 2021 #rotterdam 2021 reviews #bulgaria #victoria georgieva #victoria #growing up is getting old #i was planning to publish this review on the same day as borisbubbles dropped his review of bulgaria #but my timing is lazier than his i gotta admit #so yeah #gif

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners, chapter ten - Steve x Reader

chapter ten - how soon is now?

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: In the aftermath, you and Steve find comfort in each other.

warnings: swearing and an overwhelming amount of fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. this is it, folks. we have the epilogue left. if you stayed with me this entire time - thank you. this is my first longfic and it was a blast. thank you for the kind comments and interactions with this story. it means everything to me. one more chap to go babes. hope you enjoy this one <3

===

Steve has a lot of housekeeping to do.

He talks to your parents on a payphone at the hospital once a day. They’re in Europe and it’s taking them a while to get back, so they communicate this way. It’s awkward and weird for Steve to introduce himself, stumbling over his words – “Hi, I’m Steve Harrington. I’m your daughter’s partner. Like, at the station? But we also – we might – yeah. Anyway, she’s hurt pretty bad.” They tell him how much they appreciate him though, and he figures he’s had worse “meet the parents” scenarios before.

In between waiting to see you and sleeping on the floor, Sam Owens takes him into an empty conference room within the hospital. Steve tells him everything – the gut feeling that something was off about the Chief, the meddling of the evidence, the underground base, the bar, the building permits, everything. Owens nods solemnly as Steve speaks. It’s a lot to get through, and by the time Steve’s done explaining, his throat hurts.

“It’s taken care of,” Owens says simply, patting the top of Steve’s hand. “And we are looking into other properties to make sure they aren’t infiltrated, too.”

Steve nods. He doesn’t know if he can even trust Owens right now, but he’s too exhausted and worn to put up much of a fight.

“Are you doing okay?�� Owens asks.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. Finally, he says, “I haven’t been doing okay for a long time.”

Owens nods sympathetically and pulls out a paper pad and pen. “We have some of the best therapists in the country, if you’d want to take a look at the programs. I’ll give you the information.” Owens pauses to write, then looks back up with a smile. “I’ll prescribe you some Ativan, too. Just to take the edge off.”

Steve nods weakly. Owens shoves the paper towards Steve who takes it and folds it into the uniform he is still wearing. He’s been asked numerous times to go home to clean and change, but he refuses, scared to lose the chance to see you if he’s gone when you wake. Owens leans back in his chair now, hands crossing over his chest. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Steve nods again.

“You exhibited… phenomenal skills when dealing with this case,” Owens starts. “Your attention to detail and drive to continue is something to be admired. The willpower you have and how strong you’ve been –“

“I haven’t been strong,” Steve interrupts. “I just… hid the pain very well.”

Owens shrugs. “You’re still a tough son of a bitch.”

Steve laughs.

“Your expertise is something that could really be helpful in the FBI, or CIA.”

If Steve were drinking, he would do a spit-take. “Are you serious?” he asks incredulously, leaning so far forward he almost falls out of his chair. “Me? FBI? CIA?”

“Just something to think about,” Owens says. “If you think you’re interested, give me a call. But before then….” Owens eyes shine. “We need an interim police Chief until we can get someone better in there. What do you say?”

Steve blinks. “Are you asking me to be acting Chief of Police in Hawkins?” Owens nods and Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Bullshit. I’m just a kid.”

“A kid with a hell of a lot of knowledge on all the things that have happened in this town. A kid with the will to keep going and do what’s right.” Owens sighs. “Look, you’re not going to have all the power – you’re just a sitting Chief. You’re already part of the force, so see it as a promotion. Just until we can find someone new.”

Steve swallows hard, his head racing, but he can’t help the smile that curves the ends of his lips. “Jesus.When do I start?”

He can’t wait to see his dad’s stupid face when he tells him.

===

Steve eventually does leave the hospital, because he wants to change and shower and buy you something nice. The thought didn’t even cross his mind until the Party showed up, all sporting either flowers or chocolates or movies for you. Robin and Dustin hug Steve tightly, and Steve’s eyes beam when he tells them of his promotion.

“He even said I could be part of the FBI,” Steve says lowly.

“Congrats,” Robin says. “Now please go change your clothes.”

And so he does, changing into the same outfit he wore the first time you both hung out. He grabs the most expensive bouquet at the florist, knowing full well he was about to be broke, then uses what little he has left to spare to buy you chocolates. He goes for a card but decides that he should probably use his words. Also, you probably couldn’t really read right now, what with the enormous concussion you’re sporting.

He’s sitting on the floor with the bouquet in hand – he insisted it was personally delivered – when the nurses tell him he can see you. He jumps up and pauses – his palms are sweaty, his heartbeat is through the roof, and he feels dizzy. It’s like being on a first date, or something; but he figures that’s what happens when the love you’ve been suppressing for months comes to you in one night.

You’re sitting up in bed and eating Jell-O when Steve bursts in, holding a huge bouquet of every flower known to man and a box of chocolates. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was Valentine’s Day.

“Hey,” you say, smiling broadly and taking him in. Last time you saw him was in a dimly lit bar lounge. He looks a lot more handsome here.

“Hi,” he says back. He stills before kicking into action, walking towards you. He awkwardly places the bouquet beside the other flowers people had brought and he sits the chocolates on your tray. “I figured maybe you’d like something that wasn’t hospital food.”

“I don’t know,” you beam. “Hospital Jell-O is pretty good.”

Steve laughs quietly as he sits on the chair next to you. You’re looking pretty rough – sporting a black eye, bruises and cuts over your face, your ribs wrapped up and your legs bandaged. Every movement hurts you and the concussion has you feeling dizzy and downright miserable. But all you did when you woke up was ask for Steve, and now he’s here. The sight of him adds ten years to your life and subsides the pain.

“You, uh,” he says. “Still look beautiful.”

You snort. “Okay.”

“I mean it!”

“Hotter than Mia Sara?”

“Always,” he grins, but it falters. “I need to talk to you.”

You put your Jell-O cup down. “Steve, we –“

“Please.”

You sigh and nod curtly. He sighs as well and runs a hand through his hair before starting. “It’s the worst feeling in the world to know that I got you into this. This was all my fault. And… and if I was just straight with you from the start, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He swallows hard and fights off the painful feeling in his throat, signaling tears. “I was a dick. A total, complete asshole. And I don’t deserve for you to accept my apology. But I will tell you every single day for the rest of our lives that I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you for this,” you say. “I’d die over and over again if it meant saving you and your cute ass.” You pause to let Steve roll his eyes, then continue. “I’m mad that you told me you didn’t love me. I’m mad at the mixed signals. I’m mad that you used to – you used to pick me up and twirl me, hold my hand.” You bite your lip. “Steve, you looked at me like I was the only girl in the world.”

“Because you are,” he says, reaching out and clasping your hand. “You are everything to me.”

“Then why did you say you couldn’t love me? Because you didn’t want me to get caught up in everything?” Steve nods, avoiding your eyes. You laugh. “Steve, here’s the thing. When someone loves someone, they’d go to the ends of the earth for them. When you told me you didn’t love me, it just spurred me on. It made me mad, yeah, but I still loved you. Nothing you could say could change that.” You laugh again and gesture to yourself. “Dude. I’d literally die for you. I almost did.”

Steve can’t stop the tears now, and they feel warm as they run down his cheeks. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I thought that if I acted like I didn’t love you, they couldn’t hurt you.”

“I understand,” you say gently. “I know. But no evil can stop love, Steve. And you’re kind of an idiot for trying to think otherwise.”

Steve laughs sadly. “Calling me an idiot, just like old times.”

You gently grab his chin and tilt him towards you. “If there’s one thing I have learned in the past – however many days I was out – it’s that you’re not an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fall downward. “Then what am I?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking.

“You’re smart,” you start. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re funny. You’re caring. You’re kind. Fast learner. Wholesome. Helpful. Inspiring.” You don’t notice that you’re leaning forward until you’re right at his lips. You smile softly. “Devilishly handsome.” You rest your forehead on his, your thumb caressing his. His hand cups your face and your eyes brim with tears. “You’re incredible, Steve.”

When your lips meet, it feels like everything lost has been found. It feels like the missing pieces are finally set into place. Like the void within your chest has been filled. It’s warm, gentle, adoring. Steve’s thumb caresses your cheekbone and he melts into it, a smile forming on his lips. He feels like everything is right. He feels like he’s home.

When you part, you both can’t help the comically large smiles that form on your face. Steve’s thumb continues its course on your cheekbone as he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked into the station in that stupid blue uniform.”

You shake your head. “Bet you tell all the girls that.”

The next kiss is passionate, hands touching wherever they could reach. It’s intoxicating – Steve is a better kisser than you thought. Your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you. Despite the dizziness in your head, you continue – it’s been entirely too long of a wait. He gets up, ready to climb on top of you, when a voice behind him shouts, “Excuse me!”

Steve whirls around and finds a nurse, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, I’m – helping her – with her Jell-O.”

“Helping her with something, alright,” he huffs. “Hands off. I don’t care if you’re her partner or not.”

Steve blushes deeply and you do, too, biting your lip and trying to hide your bashful smile. Steve sits again, grabbing an unused pillow on your bed and using it to cover himself. Yeah, it’s probably a bad look to get a boner when the girl you love is lying in bed, concussed and broken, but this is Steve. What can one expect? The nurse checks on your vitals and gives you some painkillers, leaving with a stern look towards Steve.

You look to him, holding his hand again. “What now?”

Steve sighs. “Now you sign about a hundred documents saying that you won’t tell anyone what you saw. And then you get better and we both go to therapy.” Steve smiles softly. “And then after that, I have a thousand dates to take you on.”

“Just a thousand?” you tease.

“I’ll take you on more if you’re good.”

There’s a comfortable silence. You both just want to be near each other, hear each other’s breath, the rustling of clothes.

“Steve,” you say quietly, playing with his fingers. “I love you.”

It’s music to his ears. Softly, he says it back. “I love you, too.”

“Partners?” you ask.

Steve smiles. “Partners.”

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr@sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem@mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394 @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el @troop-scoop

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #my fics #the partners #the epilogue will go over a lot more of the aftermath dont worry <3 #im crying@!!!!

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sazzafraz · 3 years

Text

dropped a cup of coffee on myself at breakfast lets gooo

nodus tollens is my favourite chapter its not even close

like i actually LIKED writing it. i like writing in general but its about being someone represented with all the scary sword cards in tarot readings not actual fun. still annoyed i didn’t think of anything better than fucking HEMMINGWAY

A year and a half into working for Giri and Sasuke is sitting cross legged on top of a boulder looking out at a clear blue sky. They’re sitting by the edge of a huge cliff in Fire Country resting between assassinating some small time village leader and their next mission which promises to be heavy on full contact fighting. The sun is dipping towards the horizon, warm air ruffling their hair. Yumi is trying to throw Hiki off the cliff into the lake below, Haru is defleaing his dog and Sasuke is debating his next move in the long distance tactical game he’s playing with Juugo and Karin. It’s an Uzushio classic, like shogi but the board is made of three interlocked spirals and the movements of the pieces are based on the tides. Karin is slaughtering him.

fun fact: literally started designing that uzushio game because i’m a psychopath. it’s also the first of three references, two in the same chapter, of sasuke and his teams, and then one at the end where everyone gets together. to make fun of sasuke. as they should.

There are seven graves by the edge of the sea with a bright blooming flowers planted in the centre spilling over the cliff. Tall markers stand as high as three metres in the air wreathed with ribbons in the colours of dawn and day... Sasuke spares a look back as he enters and sees those graves and flowers. The flowers have colonised the side of the cliff, growing strong and sure halfway down the rocks, slipping into crevices and tangling around each other as they race towards the ocean. Huge blooms of colour, bright reds, light pinks and creamy yellows are knocked about by the waves crashing against the cliff.

if fuyuki even knew how much this colours sasukes opinion of her she’d beat the shit out of him. i think this was the second bit i wrote for her, after a few pieces of her and itachi. actually if she knew how much both of them are coloured by knowing her past she’d commit a crime. its pretty apparent to sasuke that these are memorials to children/those that died young and unfair. how would he know haha. i always intended the hashira and the uchiha as parallels. i think the lack of depth given to other clans sucks, especially when they have literally a thousand years of interaction. the only other one we have are the hyuuga which might have been an intended one but like. i’ve never bought it.

anyway, back to sasuke. dude loves kids. he doesn’t figure it out until he has nine of ‘em, but he has a view of children that’s incredibly sincere. i pretty much decided that on my own cause: a) its funny, b) he was fucking SWEET as a kid and i’ll kill you before i let you tell me that kid went away, c) he’s from a huge close knit family/community and liking kids is the only way to get through that,

oh. also fuyuki does cotton on to his emotional compromise and IMMEDIATELY lies so he likes her more. morals who?

“It seems,” Fuyuki says into the silence, “that Sunagakure has decided we have a problem. I sent Mamoru as a goodwill ambassador to Wind a few months ago. It went well, and as Suna is a largely neutral player in most conflicts I did not see the problem in allowing a small ambassadorial group into Oto to further the relationship. At the fourth meeting one of the Suna delegation proved themselves to be a puppet and assassinated Mamoru. They were in the process of trying to loot us when they were killed.”

haha oh my god gaara fucks himself so hard here. we’re gonna talk about it.

Now it’s leaving time and Sasuke is walking fast downtown, faces passing him as he’s bound for home base.

only two people ever commented on this. vip behaviour.

Shikamaru raises a hand and waves.

Sasuke waves back.

Shikamaru looks at him expectantly across the crowd. Distantly Sasuke notes that he’s the taller of the two. Head’s bob and weave around the marketplace, someone drops an avocado which is swept up a child and her friends, the scent of cooking spices drift down from the top of one of the buildings. Sasuke and Shikamaru stare at eachother.

i never wrote the short for this but this is shikamaru’s nightmare scenario. finding sasuke when naruto is not with you is the k12′s personal hell. because konoha and giri are tentative allies it would be poaching to bring him back and thats something people still take seriously. shikamaru goes and gets FUCKED UP so no one trusts his report and he can claim that it was ONLY MAYBE THE PRETTIEST MAN IN THE FLEA MARKET. naruto finds out like a decade later and is extremely pissed even if he gets it.

It’s a tale as old as the dust of the desert or the mountains that divide the nations. There is a boy who loses something. His honour, a cow, a sword. He has to leave his home to find it. He has to grow strong enough to do what has to be done. In the Son of Nobody the titular Son has to journey to the city to meet the princess and while he is away his family is murdered by a group of wandering bandits. Along the way he meets a beggar girl, the princess in disguise, and he allows her to tag along. There are many twists and turns, the Son becomes a noble shinobi protecting the princess and falls in love with the beggar. He finds the bandits that destroyed his home and avenges his family. But! Disaster strikes! The samurai have been told a lie about the princess and feel that their honour must be avenged. A group sneak into the princess’ room one night and defile her. One of the samurai is late to the scene and feeling so sick and ashamed of their actions kills them and ignites a real war between samurai and ninja. The disgraced samurai takes his own life in front of the princess as appeasement. When this doesn’t work the Son goes on to win the war and marry the girl.

this is just hatake sakumo. some creative liberty but its just the story of how he died embellished. i think some shinobi stories filter out and become like folk tales? like we’re gonna get to it. but there's no way they can have that kind of presence and no cultural impact.

‘Heart, liver, eyes ’ Kabuto says when he’s done, ‘and put the rest in the garbage.’

for sensible reasons kabuto is the scary one.

. Illuminated in the light of the lone flickering candle, bundled in odd cloth and grime, Kabuto looks faceless and formless. His skin has no color, his hair is limp, his eyes are turned completely inward searching himself for an some answer, some lodestone for the next leg of his journey. He looks like an orphaned version of himself. Sasuke has a brief moment of complete self-awareness. He stands above himself and looks down at the length of his hair, the uneven tan on his hands. His own eyes look at his boots, his non-descript travelling coat, the way he is never carrying more than enough money to carry him to the next town. He recognises nothing original, nothing remarkable. He’s as interchangeable as any soldier capable of swapping hands at a moment's notice. Many tools, many masks, many uses. He realises that that shifting formlessness is as much a part of him as his burning rage. It forms him just as fully.

i remember having a moment like this and it was so shocking it took me years to write about it. this nearly got cut, even though i now think its important. becoming ‘just a knife’ is important to sasuke’s development towards being just a guy. relating to kabuto is so personally disturbing that its sort of his turn towards leaving giri. kabuto actually disgusts him. unlike orochimaru.

“We called her the Fruit Eater after the foul seeds she planted in others which grew into giant poisonous fruit trees. When they’d plundered and destroyed the world enough for her foul tastes she’d eat the fruit from the trees and crush them to bone and blood under her feet. Her own children plucked out her organs one by one and cut them up into pieces. What they couldn’t eat they threw to the animals who turned into nine ravenous demons. They brought the demons together and sealed them into the form of a beautiful princess who was coveted by all.”

goddamn space aliens. i hate it less than most. i think i was still deciding if they’d show up at the end. either way i thought i’d just put them in in case i did. again, there SHOULD be a cultural footprint.

The problem is that the Uchiha are predisposed to have thick hair and the main branch, the one that descends directly from Madara’s betrayed brother Izuna, comes with a tendency for...unruliness that Sasuke has gotten threefold. At this length it seems to be largely growing up and out, gravity be damned.

aww my loving rendition of his stupid duck butt. i have unruly hair so his maintenance is essentially mine. its such a distinctive thing i think people should take more advantage of. i wrote in crashing tides that he’s just an awful fashionista and i think that holds true. he tries new hair oils ALL THE TIME.

#the author is present #part one part one

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paulieshore · 5 years

Text

Obey Me / SCM Au Series

Words: 4789

Warnings: I don’t know now to rate this, be advised? May take some time reading.

Characters belong to:

- Obey me – Shall we Date

- Voltage: Star Crossed Myth

Mc is Y/N, I have written her as female. Can gender bend if you please. ENJOY!!

Chapter 1: Goldie

Just another typical day, well typical in the last year of your life anyways. Not many humans had the opportunity you did to study in another realm. You were recruited to study in Devildom under an exchange program to prove, demons, angels, mortals etc can live and respect each other side by side.

‘Diavolo’s dream’

To say it had been a pretty hectic few months would be an understatement. Luckily everything seemed to have worked itself out, you’d finished the exchange program (and passed!) even with all the ups and downs. Thankfully making it through alive, Belphie hadn’t killed you; hell, even Lucifer’s faithfully devoted and very scary temperament hadn’t killed you…. Yet, anyways.

Also adding that you found out you were a reincarnated, descendent of Lillith. The brothers’ sister not weird at all or something like that, to be honest there was a lot to take in for a simple human like you. Here you were though, furthering your study under the permission grant of Diavolo. Proving that, even when faced with adversity, when we (demons/humans/and angels) work together; we can get through anything.

Praying this year was going to be better, for all of you.

Beel seemed happier and hungrier with Belphie back, Mammon was still up to his usual antics to get rich quick. Lucifer working away and keeping order within the house, Satan reading away his life. Asmo as conceited as always, and Levi being Levi – going to school, gaming and anime.

Yup, another typical day in the House of Lamentation.

“Hey Y/N, next week there’s a school trip. We’re traveling to the outer limits of the city to study some of the earth for our essays regarding remedies. Want to be study partners?” Satan quietly sits next to you, prompting you to look at the D.D.D notification.

“Yea sure, I have yet to see the outside of the city! Is it like, devildom’s country side to human world country side?”

Satan shakes his head, “No, it’s barren waste land. Not even safe for low graded demons to be out in. So, with that said try not to wonder, yea?” he quirks his eyebrow up.

That was a dig at me wasn’t it?

You give him a pouty look, before laughing it off and nodding, “yea, yea, thanks for the warning.”

“Ah man, normally another school trip wouldn’t be so bad, but the outer limits are a bit boring!” Asmo folds his arms in exasperation. “Were literally going to spend the day, looking around stinking areas for rocks! Just to write about it, so dumb. I just done my nails, and the smell is going to take weeks to come out of my uniform.”

“Smell?” You curiously ask Asmo.

A voice jumps in the conversation, from behind “Ever smelt burning flesh of hundreds of rotting corpses?” Belphie inputs as he and Beel take their seats at the table.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head ever so slowly, the only thing you could imagine was that one time the candle flame lit a couple of your hairs on fire. That smell was bad enough, but burning flesh? Hundreds of rotting corpses? You had seen and smelt a lot of things but that would be a first, and you couldn’t exactly say you were curious to find out.

Just as you were sinking into a mind fuck, Lucifer appears at the head of the table, “Enough, no need to worry Y/N. Belphie is exaggerating.”

Your pulled from your thoughts with a look of relief.

“It’s just the smell of burning flesh, now no more talk, let’s try to have a peaceful breakfast.” He calmly states as he picks up his folk and knife unbothered.

WHAT!?!

The school hours passed by rather quick, you couldn’t help but to wonder, why in the hell did the outer limits smell of burning flesh? Was it like the bible stated, sinners burned in hell? All day your thoughts were plagued by this. When you ran into Simeon and Luke on your way out of school, they too were granted another year to study. Which was strange Luke couldn’t wait to go back to the celestial realm? Another year?

“Hey, you guys got a moment?” You didn’t mean to sound pathetic but your voice came off almost non-coherent.

“Y/N dear, what’s the matter?” Simeon gently caresses your cheek, “You look pale, has something happened?”

Head shaking side to side, before turning into a nod, “No not really, it’s more about what’s going to happen. This trip our class is going on later this week, the outer limits…. I was told of the smell…” Your voice getting quieter and quieter.

“Ah, you’re wondering why it smells of burning flesh? Luckily you were told before going, at least you can prepare yourself for it.” Luke pipes up beside Simeon, shaking his head in thought.

Nodding, “Yes, why exactly?”

“To be frank, we don’t ‘exactly’ know ourselves, this whole place has a variety of smells. The out skirts of the city are forbidden to even us, unless granted otherwise. It’s dangerous, If I were to give an educated guess, I assume hells fire. Creatures out there getting to close? Like moths to a flame.” Simeon grabs his chin, looking down to the floor.

Is that it? Guess I’ll have to ask one of the brothers, they might know; you think. “Hm, okay thanx a bunch. I better be going; I’m supposed to meet Mammon and Levi at the gates.” You turned and left.

“You’re not going to tell her?” Luke looks up at Simeon.

“No, didn’t you see her face? Its best if she didn’t know…” Simeon watching as your figure disappears.

“Where have you been, keeping me waiting with this scum.” You were approaching the gates of the school when Levi walked up to you.

“Sorry, I bumped into Simeon and Luke on the way.”

“The goodie two-shoes and the chihuahua, and stop calling me scum, I’m your older brother. Show me some damn respect.” Mammon joins, walking on the other side of you.

You debated bringing up the question but failed to, Levi was going on about another anime Solomon suggested. Mammon ridiculing over how dumb amines are, maybe another time you thought. The walk home was noisy but good, kept you from overthinking.

Days went quick, before you knew, it was the morning of the school trip. Oh shit, and you failed to find out, why?! Frantically getting ready in your room, it was like you didn’t even know your own room. Couldn’t find anything you needed, and even better, a bad hair day. Great way to start your day.

Just as you were rushing around the room, a light knock at the door caught your attention, “Come in!”

Lucifer appeared, “Y/N, breakfast was ready 19 minutes and 3 – no, now 4 seconds ago. Why are you not down yet? It’s going to be cold at this…” He scanned you over and sighed. “Your nervous about todays events? Don’t be, there’s no need to concern yourself with things you can not control. Here...” In his hands a small tin. “These are a special devildom coffee bean, open the tin and hold it under your nose if the smell today becomes a bit too much.”

You accepted and cracked open the tin, the smell was pleasant and strong. The smell exploded into your room, let alone your nostrils. “Thank you, Lucifer, how did you know?”

He slightly chuckles and ruffles your hair, “You look like a ‘hot mess’.”

“Hot you say?” Giving him your best flirty smile.

“Yes, but you seemed to have ignored the mess part. Now, quickly go brush your hair and straighten your uniform. Breakfast and then school, no more stalling.” Shutting you down and exiting with a shake of his head.

The tin was a nice thought, and he called you hot. Yes, you heard that right. Ha, ha, today worries seemed like yesterdays, you felt much better after Lucifer’s visit.

The trip towards the limits was full of chatter, Asmo sat behind you and Satan on the bus. Leaning over the top of the seat and filling in the silence with conversation. You subconsciously found yourself tapping the tin in the pocket of your uniform.

“Watcha got there?!” Asmo points. Satan’s attention follows the direction of Asmo’s finger.

“Lucifer gave me some coffee beans, to help deal with the smell.” You pulled the tin out and gave a gentle shake.

“Wow, that ass hat actually gave a damn about some one else rather then Diavolo.” Satan says with a scowl on his face. “is hell freezing over?”

Asmo and you slightly giggle, Satan’s calm persona really clashed with his temper. One would think he was a Gemini, hard to believe he was a Libra.

The bus stopped at its destination, after the class head gave a simple and short instruction, off you two went.

When they said barren waste land, you imagined nothing but rock for miles. No, the sky was dark shades of red, green and blues. There were trees, or dead ones anyway, every hundred yards; scattered about. Far and in between the trees and nothingness, was pits of crimson flames. The ground was a peculiar orange/brown colour, unlike the dirt at home, this felt of sandpaper. Near trees, and the pits you seen giant cliffs of rock. Minus the burning souls and demons dancing around with pitch forks, this was the perfect envision of what you were told hell looked like. Nothing like the realm of Devildom, which actually deemed lively and civilized.

The smell was overbearingly grotesque, is this the smell of burning flesh? You wanted to vomit; the tin of coffee though did help. Satan joked about shoving a couple of the beans up your nose to stop you from the dry heaving, every time you caught your breath.

You thought seriously about what he joked, anything to help with the smell.

So, you did.

Satan was first stunned and then fell to his knees in a fit of laughter. “You really are something else, Y/N”

You honestly couldn’t care how stupid you looked, at least the smell wasn’t so strong. You walked along the areas permitted, examining and collecting rocks and soil samples. When in the distance you swore you heard voices. You scanned the lands before you, nothing, you were about to return to collecting.

“Can you hear me?”

There it was again! The voices, were more of a voice, over laced like an echo.

“Satan, can you hear that?” You scoot closer to him crouched nearby.

“Hear what?” He asks not even looking from the rock and book in hand.

Maybe you were freaking yourself out, I mean there’s nothing out here.

**FLASHBACK** Hadn’t Belphie contacted me similar before? No, there’s definitely something out here with us.

“Satan, I think we should make our way back to the group.” Not breaking eye contact with the eerie terrain ahead.

“Yea, we just need a fire toads pebble. They’re usually found near the cliffs, just there. Come on.” Seemingly ignoring your warning, he grabs your hand and walks towards the cliffs which seemed soooooo far away from were you wanted to be right now.

“Can you hear me?”

No, no, no. The further out you two walked the louder the voice seemed.

“Don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm my dear~.”

Just like that, the anxiety that was growing was gone, like a spell had been casted over you. You looked around again, nothing.

Who are you?? You thought to yourself.

“Who am I? There are many things here my dear, I am just one of many...” it replied to your thought! The voice sounded soft, calming and cooing.

Finally feeling at ease, your feet started to walk on their own accord. Straight out towards one of the pits, Satan quickly grabbed your arm, breaking you out of your trance. “Yo, best not wonder, remember?”

Shaking your head, “Right, got the pebble?”

“Yea, thanx for all the help by the way.” He sarcastically counters.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to… well this” You gesture your hands around.

“It’s fine, but you’re not using that same excuse too when it comes to writing the paper, just so you know.” He smiles as he drags you back to the bus.

Back at the house, you stripped from your uniform and ran yourself a bath. Asmo was right, it was going to take some time to rid yourselves of the smell.

You slumped into the warm, lavender scented water.

“Can you hear me?”

You bolted straight up, covering your chest and rapidly looking around your bathroom. Again? But how?

“It’s alright, don’t be alarmed, my name is Daz.”

“I don’t mean to come off as rude ‘Daz’, but I’m a little busy at the moment could you possibly not!” You spoke out loud, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. It sounded right by your ear.

A knock at your door. “Yo, Y/N? You alright in there? Who are you talking too?” Mammon’s voice sounds from the other side of the door.

“No-one, go away! I’m bathing!” You quickly slump back into the water.

“Weirdo, your hanging out with Levi too much, starting to talk to yourself now too!” Banging on your door before exiting your room.

“Why didn’t you tell him my dear?”

You closed your eyes and whispered, “Look, I’ve seen and experienced a lot of weird things here. Today being no different, go away, id like to bath in peace.”

The voice did not respond, thank god! You took your time bathing, trying to unwind, accidentally falling asleep.

** The dream started off back at the bus, that same voice, echoing.

- Can you hear me?

You turned around and found you were all alone, no one on the bus. No driver, no classmates, just you.

- It’s alright don’t be afraid.

Your attention drawn to what looked like a trail of grey light, leading out into the barren land… You followed it.

- That’s right, come to me. I’m alone, I could use a friend, just like you. The voice seemingly getting louder by a few nots.

You ask, - Daz? That you?

- Yes dear, I am here, or near I should say.

- Daz, where are you, or who are you sorry?

- I’m a soul dear, but I’m afraid I need your help. I’m stuck.

- Stuck? Where, why can’t I see you?

- Keep coming my dear, you’ll see.

The trail ended near a cliff drop, you had never been here before but yet it felt familiar to you.

- Daz? Where am I?

- You’re here.

- Here?

- Yes, look over, I’m here.

You glanced around and found a huge boulder, engraved into the stone a large black bird? Finely detailed, behind the black bird was a ring of flames, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You reached out to touch the mark, and in that moment a loud and powerful voice boomed like thunder –

DON’T!!!! *****

You woke from your dream startled, sitting in now cold water. Shivering you step out and wrap yourself with a towel, glancing at the time.

3 Hours, you’d fallen asleep for 3 hours?!

Luckily you didn’t drown, quickly getting dressed, you decided to go seek out one of the brothers. Any of the brothers, this feeling and this dream really had you bothered.

Wasn’t hard to find anyone though, you could hear banter back and forth ringing from the kitchen. You approached the doorway, and pushed open the swing door. Mammon, Beel and Belphie were chattering and cooking. Upon entering they all glanced your way and froze.

“Oh my, are you alright!” Belphie asked with eyes as if he’d seen a ghost.

Mammon rushed to you next and placed his hands on each side of your cheeks, “By Diavolo! Y/N, you’re ice cold and your lips are practically blue. Did you fall asleep in the tub after I left?” He whipped off his sweater and draped it on your shoulders.

“I’ll make you tea.” Beel turned to put the kettle on, Belphie eyeing you suspiciously.

You wanted to speak, but felt as if you couldn’t. Even though you slept 3 hours, you felt so tired, too tired to even speak. Mammon guided you to a stool next to the counter, you sat and nuzzled into his sweater. Mammon lectured you on how easily you could have died, during which you could feel Belphie’s eyes staring into you.

As if he could sense what was going on, “Y/N, speak.”

You looked at him and tried.

Nothing.

The three of them looked at you in shock. “You can’t speak, can you?” Belphie reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nod, you didn’t understand why, as if your voice was gone. You felt this overbearing weight in your chest when you tried, a force stealing away your energy.

Belphie barked out, “I’ll get Lucifer.” He scurried out of the kitchen. Beel and Mammon gave each other a look, before Mammon said he’d take you back to your room for rest.

Not long after, Lucifer, Belphie and Satan appeared in your room. Lucifer was given a quick run up about the trip today, Mammon explained you falling asleep. You couldn’t even tell them about the voice, about Daz or the dream. You watched helplessly, shaking and nodding when prompted with questions. When an idea popped into your mind, you tried to get up to get paper and pen.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there crazy lady, you’re obviously sick. Stay in bed” Mammon tries to push you back. You shake your head and point to the direction of your desk; Satan catches on and retrieves a notebook and a pen.

You summarized everything they spoke about only including, the voice, Daz, the dream, and the marking followed by yet another more powerful voice. You ended the page with how you believe its related to how your feeling. Then handed it to Lucifer, he immediately began reading it. His face hard to read, until.

“Who’s Daz and…...” His eyebrows knit together; face plastered in anger. “I need to speak to Diavolo immediately! You are all to watch over Y/N, I will send a medic.” Then he was gone, he took the notebook with him.

“What the hell was that all about?” Mammon observes.

“Y/N, this has something to do with the voice you mentioned today isn’t in?” Satan looks at you pitifully.

You nod your head.

“Wait, were you talking to this said voice earlier when I came to your room?!” Mammon grabbed a hold of your shoulders and gave you a shake. Belphie silently pulled Mammon from you, still looking over quietly.

You nodded again; silence followed, everyone looked to be thinking about something.

“I think its best we take turns watching over Y/N until Lucifer gets back, and Y/N if you hear that voice again, be sure to say… or write, sorry….” Satan reaches out and places a hand atop of your head.

You closed your eyes, was this a dangerous soul? What was with that dream, why was Lucifer so angry then?

You began to ponder; you should write your own ‘Guide for Dummies’, what to do and what not to do. Would save future students or visitors from all the troubles you seemed to have always found yourself in.

A medic came to the house along with Solomon, Simeon and Luke. Everyone was whispering outside your door, only you, the medic and Satan remained in your room. After a thorough assessment the medic gestured Satan to follow him outside. Solomon, Simeon and Luke entered.

“Oh Y/N, we’ve heard, I’m sorry you’re not well.” Solomon places a get-well card at your side table, along with a fruit basket.

Simeon takes a seat next to you on your bed, “Whatever happens, just know you are safe. They are watching.” He takes your hand, cold, oh so cold.

They? Who are they? You wonder.

“Liars, all liars, so many secrets... This is not my doing my dear, do believe me.”

Your hand grips Simeon’s tightly, Luke and Simeon exchange stares. Luke opens the door and ushers one of the brothers in, Belphie. He grabs another notebook and pen and places it before you. As you write, a striking headache befalls you, enabling you from finishing. All you could write was, ‘He’s sayin-‘, the medic rushing in next, using weird tools and gadgets around your head.

“How strange, I can not detect any black magic, or any sorts of soul tampering.” The medic removes the tool from your chest, and turns to the others. “I need to report back to Diavolo with these results.”

You pick up the pen with what little strength you have, ‘what’s going on?’ and place it for Simeon to take. He gently graces your hand before taking the note, “It’s going to be alright; I promise.” He said no more and left, Luke following close.

Answers you just wanted answers.

“You won’t get answers, can’t see you the secrets before you”

You closed your eyes, and decided to speak to the voice, the only one who answered to your questions. – what do you want?

“Answers, and Justice. Just. Like. YOU.”

Daz? Is that even your name? What justice?

“I’m known by many names, but Daz is fine for now. Free me, I was wrongly imprisoned… Diavolo is a liar, his father is a liar, THEY’RE ALL LIARS! Free me, and I will help you dear. Anything you want. Help me, help you.”

Next thing you knew everything went quiet. Everything was dark.

You saw visions of black and white lights vigorously smashing one another, then a great light illuminated. You felt weak, a fading feeling, cries… you heard sobbing. You saw Belphie and Beel, only briefly, then another figure. He had blue hair, a uniform of white and gold. An angel? No, he felt much stronger than the presence Simeon and Luke gave off. The figure turned to you, holding one of the lights in his eyes in hand, the other spilling over with tears. - Who are you? “It will all be alright, my love...” He said this and reached out his free hand.

In that split second, your eyes opened. As your head cleared, you felt increasingly better.

“You’re awake!” Asmo jumped on the bed peppering you in kisses.

“I’m fine.”

YOU SPOKE! You looked at Asmo, I have a voice again!!

“Yayy, that pretty little voice of yours is back.” Wrapping you in a hug. “Best not over do it though, we don’t quite know why or how. As much as we like to hear it, let’s not push it.” Tapping the sides of your arms.

You agreed, and slowly got up, even your energy was coming back too.

After a quick wash up, a meeting was held. Diavolo had ordered Lucifer to keep you home for the time being, each one of the brothers had a privilege duty to stay home with you throughout the week. Taking turns each day, today you had Asmo, he didn’t mind either of the latter. Lucifer collected study materials and notes for you to be occupied with, and instructed you not to communicate with the voice in your head.

“Why, who is he, is he dangerous?” You just wanted answers.

“I can not discuss this with you. I’m sorry, just heed my order.” He gives you a stern look before turning and taking his leave as well.

“I told you”

You take a deep breath, and sit at a dining room table to work. Asmo was painting his nails opposite of you, chirping away about colour contrast and matching his outfits. His D.D.D rings and he leaves to take the call; you paid no attention. Mid reading, you heard Asmo scream, you darted from your seat and sprinted to the direction Asmo walked out of. As you passed through the doorway everything warped, you felt dizzy; falling to your knees. Sight moderately blurry, you forced yourself up and looked around.

You were no longer in the House of Lamentation.

You were standing on the out skirts of the city, in exactly the same spot in the dream, where the bus should have been. You looked around and seen a trail of footsteps heading into a direction, your foot prints. How? Was it not a dream? Or is this another dream…

“Y/N, you came.”

The voice returned, sounding sickly sweet.

But how? I was just at home.

“Home? How touching, do you think they care for you as Y/N? or perhaps they care about you because of Lillith.”

No, that’s not why… What he said stung a little, you wanted to deny it but apart of you festered. A part of you agreed.

“Come to me dear, help me, help you.”

You were off again, following the previous path you had set. Until you stood just before that very same boulder, with the very same marking from the dream. You reached out and touched it, no voices were heard.

The ground began to rumble, shaking with an earthquake force, the boulder before you began to crack.

“That’s it, just a little more!”

An image began to appear in your mind, a dark figure, with pitch black hair. Dark markings on his forehead and eyes, and a black robe covering his body. His skin was sickly pale and his voice churning from the calm and cooing state to dark and haunting one. He gave you a creepy smile and a blood curdling laugh, which pierced your body and soul like electric bolts of energy. Some bolts began to curl and strangle within you, like a snake, strangling your organs of life. Fear took hold, spreading in your mind like wild fire.

Darkness embezzled you, “Lucifer! Satan! Beel? MAMMON?! SOMEBODY, ANYBODY!?!” You screamed their names for dear life while you fell into the abyss.

“Your life is now mine former goddess! I’m free at last, I will destroy all of you for placing me here! Foolish girl, don’t you know not to go talking to strangers!”

His face contorted, an even wickeder smile ripping into his higher cheeks, up to his ears.

How were you supposed to know though, the voice calling to you sounded, calming? Cooing you to obey and come, so you did.

How were you supposed to know, there wasn’t a sign saying do not touch!

How were you supposed to know, nobody told you anything!

You felt the life slowly leaving your body, death. This time there’s no going back. They didn’t come, no one’s saving me this time. So many secrets, so many lies.

With the last of your thoughts, the last of your hope.

Please, oh please, I wish this would end quickly.

Just as you accepted your fate, a blinding and powerful light engulfed the area.

Tears welled in your eyes, “You came, you guys actually came!”

….

As the light dimmed, and your vision cleared, 6 figures stood before you.

…..

Weakly, “Wait, who are you?”

“If we would have waited, you would have died filthy human.” The one with black hair styled a little like Lucifer’s spat out. He frightened you!

“Be kind Scorpy, can’t you see she’s been through hell, like literally! Ha-ha” The one with soft brown hair chummed in, like a happy child.

“Silly Goldie, were gods obviously.” This one who spoke had beautiful blonde hair, and flashed you a charming smile which caused your pulse to quicken.

Not exactly listening to what was being said, to engrossed in what they were wearing. They had on white uniforms with gold, some of white, gold and black. You scanned the men before you –

One stood out most, he seemed familiar, like you’d seen him before. The blue haired one from you vision! Your eyes widen, suddenly another light and a voice that followed.

“Welcome to Paradise Y/N, daughter of Man.” That same voice, the one that warned you like thunder, spooling across the sky.

You squinted your eyes to get a better look, he looked just like the wicked monster in black. Only he was not him, this man was surrounded by light, warm light. His hair long and almost a white gold, laying upon his head, a crown. Beautifully draped in white and gold attire, he was stunning, prettier than any man or woman alive.

“You flatter me child, but we are no mere man.” He didn’t speak out loud but replied directly to your thoughts, warm and inviting “We are gods.”

Gods? Oh, okay…

Wait.

GODS!?!?

That was the final straw, you had fainted. All your energy gone, the last of your strength exasperated from the crippling events.

To be continued….

CH2 - CH3 - CH4 - CH5

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