#i'll say use whoever you have the most muse for or who you believe would best work for this when you reply ??

[incarnaet]

              blood.  the iron scent is all too familiar to ceres, much like the rotting sight of death.  something was wrong.  she could feel it, somehow, and worries that someone could be in trouble.  following her gut, she had rounded corner, heels of her shoes quietly tapping upon the ground until she finally found the source of what had caught her curiosity.  body, slumped over  ..  whether it was their blood that she was seeing, or another's –  she's not quite certain.  she stands frozen, grey eyes wide and throat dry.  she wants to say something, but words remain trapped.  in truth, ceres even fears stepping too close, but she can't budge from her own spot to even move backwards, or search for help  ..  well, until her body does decide to move.  each step is careful, cautious as she approaches against her better judgment.  click  ..  click  ..  click  ..  she can see movement in the body : clear signs of life, but she doesn't know how grievous the wounds might be. 

          it's difficult to discern much from the dark shadows of the surroundings.     ❝ um .. ❞     ceres finally finds her voice long enough to actually speak.  she casts her gaze around, searching for any immediate danger before crouching and tilting her head to try and get a glimpse of their face.     ❝ h- hello .. ? ❞     courage has clearly escaped her grasp, and she keeps a bit of distance between herself and the body, her heart racing as she tries to form coherent thoughts.  if not for the obvious signs of blood  (  plenty of it, in fact.  )  she might have been able to react with less hesitation.

– @strdstd.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Battle Of The Knights Pt. 4: And The Winner Is...

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: nothin- you're safe

Genre: fluff- still just fluff lol

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

A/N: is anyone actually interested in reading the alt endings for this story 🤣 cuz ik nobody actually wants to pick

***

You took a week to mull it over. To really consider your options and what the best approach to this conversation with them would be. Eventually, when you've given yourself headaches from trying to predict the future, you cave in and text the trio knowing you can't continue to delay the inevitable.

Hey guys. I've made a decision. Meet me at our usual cafe for lunch tomorrow. How's 3?

You're not sure who responds to you. It's short and whoever it is doesn't sign off like they usually do.

sounds great. see you then

Maybe Marc or Jake. When the trio is anxious Jake usually has to deal with things but it's possible Marc is taking the wheel since he's known you the longest. You're almost certain the text isn't from Steven, he always uses full sentences with proper punctuation and capitalization when he texts. He's also pretty fond of exclamation marks and emoticons. A text from Steven would probably look more like 'Sounds great! See you then! :)'

Jake seems the most likely sender of the text, but it really doesn't matter either way. They'll be there and you need to address all three of them anyway. When you walk into the cafe, they're already there and they stand up when you walk over to them.

"Y/n! Hey!" It's Marc who greets you and gives you a hug.

"Hi, Marc. Thanks for coming." You say taking a seat across from him.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. We're happy to see you. Steven was starting to get super worried." Marc says.

"Oh was he?" You chuckle.

"Yeah, you know how he gets." Marc shrugs.

"How I get?! I wasn't the one checking our phone every ten minutes. He was way more anxious about this than I-"

"Steven. I know." You cut off his rambling with a chuckle even though the sudden switch caught you by surprise.

"You know?" Steven blinks at you.

"Of course I do. Marc isn't as subtle as he thinks he is." You muse.

"Oh- okay." He says.

"Would you like to stick around for this or do you want Marc or Jake to come out before I get into the details?" You ask.

"I- I take it I'm not going to like how this conversation goes? If you're offering me an out?" He frowns.

"I'm not sure actually."

"You're not sure? I thought you called us here because you made a decision?" He tilts his head.

"I did. Kind of. Actually, I have some questions to ask first. I'm only offering you an out because I know you don't like dealing with unfamiliar territory and I don't think this will be a very comfortable conversation." You say.

"Questions for who?" Steven asks.

"Well, technically all of you."

"I'll stick around then." He says hesitantly.

"Okay then. Well, I guess my main question is, out of curiosity- what was the plan? Like- long term, for the three of you?" You ask.

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head.

"If I choose one of you, even if best case scenario it doesn't alter my friendships with the other two- what about their romantic lives? Did you all plan to just have three completely separate dating lives for the rest of forever?" You ask. There's a moment of silence as Steven registers your question. You can tell from the look on his face he's never even thought about it before.

"Do you have a mirror?" Steven asks. You reach into your bag and pull out the compact you usually carry.

"Here." You hand it to him and he opens it and puts it on the table in front of him. You know it's so Marc and Jake can easier communicate with him.

"We- never really thought about it. I guess so." Steven says.

"See that's the thing. I was thinking about it and logistically how would that even work? I mean you guys are of course individuals but you do share a body. It's a strange situation to put someone in, sharing their boyfriend with one or two other people even if it's just physically because it's not like you can tell every first date you go on that you have a personality disorder and one of your alters already has a girlfriend but if you hide that information for too long it would totally screw up your chances with that person." You explain.

"So- instead of focusing on the decision you were supposed to make you've been worrying about what your choice could mean for the others?"

"Well, yeah. I care about all of you was that not obvious?"

"It's always been obvious but-"

"What are you suggesting muñequita?" Jake interrupts whatever Steven was going to say with his question.

"Jake." You say as a way of acknowledging the switch. 

"Before you ask, Steven didn't run off, I took over because he's gonna beat around the bush and I want to get to the point already."

"Well it wasn't nice of you to cut him off like that Jake." You frown.

"He'll be fine. Y/n, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you learn how to share. All three of you."

"Share?" Jake raises an eyebrow at you.

"The best chance for all of you to have a happy, healthy, fulfilling, long-term relationship is to date one person. That or you- take turns for the rest of your life for who will be able to pursue romance. This separate but equal life y'all have been trying to maintain will not work here. You date one person, who knows all of you and loves all of you or only one of you gets that happy ending because you can't expect three women to date three minds in one body. In that scenario, nobody is getting it all and you are spread entirely too thin." You sigh.

"So, what does that mean? For you." Jake crosses his arms.

"For me? Nothing. It doesn't have to be me that you choose. I just think it would be better for you all to find one person that you're willing to go through that kind of experience with. I mean clearly, despite having very different personalities there are interests that you share in a partner evidently. So I think you should look for- for somebody that could love all of you because you are a system- you work best together even if you don't think so. I've seen it."

"So you will not make a choice? Is that what I'm understanding here?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I won't choose one of you. I can't do that because it creates a very complex situation for everyone involved. Have you even thought about dating the same person before?"

"This is as intertwined as our dating lives have ever gotten. I mean- you know I don't date for a myriad of reasons and Steven can hardly start a conversation with a woman and Marc- he's equally as hopeless in a very different way. We haven't talked about dating really because we don't think about it. Too much else is going on." He shrugs.

"Are you against it?" You ask.

"Sharing a partner? We- we have never thought about that until just now when you brought it up." Jake says. You watch his eyes flick down to the mirror and he makes a face at something Marc or Steven said.

"What if we wanted to do it- with you?" It's Marc that asks you this question. You're surprised they switched out, since Marc was really only around to say hello you almost thought he'd stay inside for the whole conversation.

"What?" You blink.

"What if we wanted to date you? All of us. I mean- you've already been on dates with each of us, you've always cared for all of us- do you think, do you think you could be that person we choose to try that experience with? You said you won't choose one of us over the others so- what if we didn't want you to choose?"

"Just to be clear I didn't bring this idea to you as a loophole for me. You don't have to date me. I want you all to be happy and this just seemed like the most reasonable way to ensure that." You say.

"I know. We know. But we also don't want to look for someone else. We- our hearts, heart? Our feelings are for you. We have no interest in suppressing them or trying to replicate them with someone else. We think- we, us and you, work well together. Plus I honestly don't think Jake would consider dating anyone else anyway." Marc says and you can't help but chuckle at the last bit.

"And you're sure? This is what you want? All of you?"

"Do you want to hear each of us say yes?" Marc asks. You pause for a second trying to decide if his suggestion is serious.

"That would help honestly." You nod.

"Okay. I dunno if you wanna hear me say it since I'm the one suggesting it to you but I want this." Marc says.

"Yeah, I gathered." You giggle.

"I hate to admit it but he's right I have no interest in dating anyone else. It's you or no one. At least for me." Jake says albeit a bit grumbly.

"Just so we're clear, you understand I'd be not only your girlfriend but Steven and Marc's too, right?" You ask.

"It was me you brought up the sharing a partner thing to in the first place muñequita, I get it. I think you're right, but I'm only in if it's you. We are best with you." Jake says.

"I don't think you need me to be your best, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Do not start with me." Jake warns but before he can say anything else, Steven nudges his way to front.

"I'm in as well. I'm not- assertive the way Jake is or smooth like Marc, but- if you'll have me-"

"Steven I have never thought of you as less than Jake or Marc. I care for you the same as I do them and you don't need to be like them. I want you to be you. I don't need two Jakes and I certainly don't need two Marcs. I do need one Steven though. Okay?" You look at him and hope your eyes show the sincerity of your words.

"I can definitely work with that."

"I hope so- I've already hand-picked you for it." You smile which Steven returns.

"So, will you be our girlfriend? Mine and Jake's and Marc's? Now that it's clear we're all on the same page about being with you."

"I would love to be your girlfriend." You giggle.

"We should take you on a date. As a unit this time as opposed to what we did before." Steven says.

"Sounds good." You nod. "This time I'm planning it." You add after a moment.

"Now wait a damn minute-" Marc scoffs.

"Nope! You each got to plan a date for me. It's my turn now that is only fair." You say.

"We asked you though." He says.

"We're dating now who cares? We'll take turns planning dates." You shrug and stand from the table. You walk over and kiss his cheek. "I have to get back to mine. I have work to finish. Since you're no longer in competition, you can discuss your dates with each other. I'll text you when I've figured out our plans for the next one." You tell them.

"We can see you before then, right?" Marc asks.

"Of course, you can. Come over later if you like." You say grabbing your bag and your mirror.

"We'll call!" Steven shouts after you as you leave. You blow him a kiss over your shoulder and then you're gone. As nervous as you were about it, this is the only outcome you were hoping for when you texted them last night. You can't imagine another way this ended that would have you as happy as you are right now.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry @animechick555

[acoldsovereign]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — Guillotina or GT for short. I also take Tiny, Tee, T, Tina, and Terror.

pronouns — She/her.

preferred comms — Tumblr IMs for first-time meetings. Discord for if we get on well.

name of muse — Maiz.

experience in RP — 14 years.

best experiences —Finding my current mutuals on here and creating funny, hilarious and horrifying threads to the point where they message me to lament or laugh at how terrible Maiz is to people. Having people seek me out specifically because they want the antagonistic dynamic with her. Also--finding out how to make things work when she isn't being a menace/demon to others. All of this has been a blast so far and has inspired me to continually push myself when it comes to writing and character direction.

pet peeves/dealbreakers — I don't have them any more. As in, if something bothers me, I'll blacklist, block and remove/unfollow whoever and whatever I need to. So, since I've been doing that, I don't have things that upset me nor do I allow things to upset me anymore.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — Maiz is a muse that lends herself mostly towards creating angst for others but for herself? I would say angst or intrigue/mystery fits her more than the other two, as she's what I call "romance-locked." I don't mind writing smut, but again, she's romance-locked. So that happens under specific circumstances, only. Fluff isn't out of the realm of possibility but she has to give a damn about you in any capacity, truthfully.

plot or memes — I used to be a chronic plotter, but now I'm a mixture of both. Plot and memes/winging it, or winging it and then plotting afterward. Whatever makes the most sense to me is what I'll do, but I'm known to message writing partners and ask about tiny details just to be safe.

long or short replies — In my personal life, I'm a poet and author (it'll be two years in a week or so, I believe). I love writing what one of my mutuals call, "Tolkien-level replies". (Long, detailed replies). However, I've come to acknowledge brevity can be effective at times. Currently, I'm upgrading my vocabulary to achieve this effect.

best time to write — As of right now, I write every day. It's cathartic.

are you like your muse?: Not anymore, which reminds me to make this public announcement before I forget. As of last month, I no longer qualify/have the traits of sociopathy. All behaviors, past trauma and traits fueling that mindset and way of life have been eradicated permanently. I can healthily process my feelings--I am proud to say I am finally a well-rounded, healthy and functioning adult.

Aside from this, the only similarities Maiz and I share are darker skintones, cultural and spiritual complexities, and the ability to lighten (or darken) a room. Metaphorically, of course.

Tagged by: @peoplcshope. (This is so late but thank you, Jay!)

Tagging: All of you who have muses that have been mildly inconvenienced by Maiz in any way, shape, or form.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.

Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.

It'd cut deep, this one.

So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.

Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.

Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.

Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.

It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.

It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.

He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.

Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.

Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.

Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.

This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.

And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.

But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.

Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.

Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.

He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.

Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.

Because so much could've happened to prevent this.

His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.

And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.

She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.

Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.

The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.

The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.

But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.

It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.

"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"

Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.

"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.

Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.

He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.

And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.

It was the only viable explanation.

He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.

"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."

"Not good, ma. But he's home now."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."

"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"

Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.

It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.

She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.

So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.

The same way that she found comfort as a kid.

He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."

"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.

But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."

"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"

"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."

Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.

Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.

"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.

"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."

She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.

"He'll be home soon--I should take off."

"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.

As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.

It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.

And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.

"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."

Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.

"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."

Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.

The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.

"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."

He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.

"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"

"It's about one o'clock."

"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.

Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.

Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.

He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.

"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."

"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"

Your favorite son.

"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."

"That was their rationale?"

"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"

"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."

"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."

Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.

"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"

"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."

Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.

It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.

She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.

Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.

And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.

She never knew anything about her mother's passing.

Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.

"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."

His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.

Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.

"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"

"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"

"Well, she's always been unpredictable."

"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.

"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"

She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.

And Jax was sick of it.

Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.

"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."

"Where?" Chibs demanded.

But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.

It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.

It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.

He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.

But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.

And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.

He had to intercept.

He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.

But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.

"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.

He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.

Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.

But she wasn't scared.

Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.

Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.

It was horrible. Sick.

She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.

The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.

Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.

If it hadn't already, that was.

She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.

And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.

But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.

Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.

She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.

"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.

It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.

The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.

Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.

"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.

The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.

"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"

"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"

His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.

She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.

"Let me clean you up."

"You don't gotta--"

"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."

Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.

Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.

Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"I walked--"

"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."

She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"

"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.

Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."

Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.

"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."

"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."

"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."

"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."

Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.

"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.

The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.

"I like the pain."

"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.

Why he would do this to himself tonight.

"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.

"You think I got a pretty face?"

"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.

She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.

"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."

"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."

She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.

The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.

"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.

It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.

"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.

"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."

Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.

Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.

He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.

She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.

"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.

Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.

But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.

Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.

"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."

"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."

God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.

Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"

"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.

He didn't.

"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"

"You can still be a crier, too."

"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."

"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."

"You think?"

He nodded.

"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."

"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."

"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.

Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.

But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.

"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."

"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."

"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."

He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.

"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."

"You feel it?"

"Tonight?"

"In general."

She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.

Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.

And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.

"All the time. All the fuckin' time."

"It really never goes away?"

"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."

"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."

"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."

"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.

Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.

"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.

"Does it make me look hot, too?"

"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"

"I've had them before, y'know?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."

He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"

"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."

What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.

Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.

Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.

Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.

Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.

"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."

She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.

Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.

"Tig?"

"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.

Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.

"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.

It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.

She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.

Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.

"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."

[ofgentleresolve-a]

@jeoseungsaja​​ sent in: (for the 'what does your muse think of mine?' meme) Hyuk about Patrick: "Ah, he should learn to take a break; he works all the time. I don't even need to physically be there to tell. And yes, sure, who am I to talk, but we're not talking about me here, are we? We're talking about Patrick. I wish he could just take some vacations; unplug himself from what he knows, maybe that'll do him some good. I wonder if he's slept well the past few days..." A pause. "He's too calm as well. He has such a good heart that I'm afraid someone's going to take it away unfairly and not give it back. It's a good thing he has me, I'll fight whoever dares to treat him wrong. Sometimes I also wonder how has he managed to deal with me all this time. I know I'm not easy, I know I'm short-tempered. Either way, I'm thankful. He's a kindhearted person and a great friend...the best friend I've ever had. I don't know where would I be if it wasn't for his support and his company. I've...learned so much from him and I only hope I can be the friend he deserves, which is a good friend. Patrick deserves only good. And whoever says otherwise can meet me outside-" opinions, opinions, opinions ( ft. what does your muse think of mine? meme ) || always accepting!! 

A snort before the professor laughs and shakes his head. "He is right; I should be the one saying that to him." After all, if Patrick pores over his books and lesson plans into the early hours of the morning, then is Hyuk really that much better eleven hours later if he's constantly looking over files with Sweet Americano cans to the side as fuel? But there's no denial on Patrick's end. Hyuk knows him like the back of his hand so why try to cover it up? It's not like Patrick doesn't try to hide the fact that he, in fact, very much enjoys his work. "And yes, I know this is about me, but that doesn't mean I can't say ANYTHING about him."

He blinks. A vacation? That's a good question, when was the last time he took time off from work? There is always summer vacation, but most times Patrick uses that time to catch up on research and to write papers...although maybe Elise and Hiro would like that. A vacation? Perhaps a week at the BEACH might do them some good. “Let me think about it. But if I do, he has to take a vacation for himself too.” Whether that’s with Patrick or by himself, that’s up to Hyuk. Just as long as Hyuk takes better care of himself. He shrugs though. “I did take a nap a few hours ago- twenty minutes. I couldn’t sleep but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let him know that, okay?”

Well, it’s the norm for the both of them, isn’t it? Foregoing sleep for the sake of work. For what reason though, well, that might be where they differ but still, Patrick can’t help but chuckle albeit bashfully. “That’s…that’s a bit of an OVERSTATEMENT, isn’t it? That’s just what a gentleman would do. He shouldn’t worry so much about me.” After all, he would rather get hurt, assuming people are only acting with good intentions than fear for the worst in others. Hyuk might disagree there.  “If anything, I’m more worried about him.” After all, Hyuk is the one who jumps headfirst into the line of fire without thinking of the consequences. So that might come with being a detective, but that doesn’t change the fact Hyuk will inevitably be sporting new INJURIES often each time they video chat.

The corner of his eyes crinkle. “I feel the same.” Even if Hyuk isn’t here to hear it, it still feels odd, voicing out such sentiments- the fact that Patrick too isn’t sure where he’d be without Hyuk’s friendship. Hyuk, who’s been a CONSTANT through the good times and bad times. Hyuk, who is the one person Patrick believes in. That would be...tricky to say upfront. “Although...he shouldn’t sell himself short like that. Anyone would be LUCKY to have him as a friend.” And besides, isn’t that what friends do for each other anyways? Watch each other’s backs and make sure they don’t completely drift away?  

And speaking of picking fights, Patrick straightens. ‘Meet him outside’? Oh dear, that can’t be good- he stands up quickly, gathering his things. “Excuse me, I think I should go check on Hyuk, now.”

[chosenkeepersworld]

The Curses We Inherit- Chapter 8

Original Work

Date Posted: July 14, 2021 (Tumblr)

Word count: 1, 097 words

A/N: Work is unbeta'd but I do hope you'll still enjoy reading it. Comments are always appreciated! And if you can't wait to read what happens next, this story is also up on Wattpad (under the username ChosenKeeper0971) but with way more chapters, I appreciate your support there too!

Thank you so much, I hope everyone is having an awesome day and happy reading :)

Masterlist / Part 7

Danika sunk into her seat apprehensively turning her head back and forth as Krysa and Jac argued.

"Are you insane? We're more likely to get lost, we should stick to the main road"

"The main road takes way too long" Jac exclaimed "Going off road would get us there faster because there are less people and honestly the view would be way better"

Jac and Krysa had taken up the driver seat and passenger seat respectively but it did not take long for both girls to start arguing on what path to take.

"The main road is safer" Krysa argued

"We're on a spontaneous trip, we might as well take a spontaneous path" Jac shot back

Krys sighed, shaking her head. She glanced at Danika, who still felt awkward, sitting uncomfortably in the back. The curly blonde's face softened. "We're sorry about the arguing, it happens a lot when we travel together."

"It's true, unfortunately" Jac said, glancing back through the rearview mirror "We'll tone it down, I promise and I'm sorry" she did sound contrite.

The tension in Danika's body slowly left, she gave a small smile "Thanks. So which road are we taking?" she asked leaning forward between the two seats.

Jac and Krysa shared a look before Krysa reached back to hand Danika their map.

"Up to you, girl," Jac said, settling into her seat.

She stared at them quizzically "You guys still use maps?"

"It's Krysa's preference" Jac giggled "She's not too good with technology"

"I'm old fashioned" Krysa laughed "Which is it Dan?"

"Jac" Dan said slowly "How well do you know the spontaneous road?"

Their eyes met in the rearview, Jacqueline grinned widely "I am so glad you asked"

It turns out Jacqueline had not memorized the off-roads as well as Danika thought, but Jac knew it well enough not to take any wrong turns. Krysanthe, despite trusting Jacqueline's sense of direction, was still slightly apprehensive about the road itself.

So the driver at least has some idea on where they were going, the road may not be completely safe but Jacqueline was right about the view. The road they took had a wonderful view of the surrounding nature, in the distance Danika could see the patches of fields and meadows. The road they were on was in a slightly higher area so they could see more small towns in the lower plains.

"Despite how it looks, the island is pretty big" Krysanthe explained, her eyes lighting up "A lot of families have been living on this island for centuries, the original founders started with one kingdom, but the people eventually revolted against the royal family"

"How come?"

"According to the history books, the people were treated horribly, citizens from other kingdoms were treated better and the king at the time was practically a man-child"

"What about the other explanation?" Jac chimed in

Krysa rolled her eyes "I find the alternative absolutely ridiculous" she said "A bedtime story for children"

Danika straightened in her seat "I would like to hear this ridiculous alternative to history" it was probably just a coincidence, right? There was no way it was the same story.

"A witch supposedly cursed the royal family, causing family members to die. Grief and sorrow was constant within the castle, eventually the royal family became negligent, they stopped caring about their people and the more responsible and experienced heirs died off leaving the youngest one to take over so..." Krysa trailed off, leaving Danika to piece together what most likely happened. "I personally don't believe in any of that"

Jacqueline shot a glance at her "What about all that stuff that happened to you as a kid?"

"I was child, I probably just imagined all of it" Krysa replied, waving her hand dismissively

"You mean that's what Rhian told you"

Danika scooted closer, sticking her head between the two seats "Who's Rhian?"

"I'll tell you if you sit properly," Kyrsa said pointedly.

The heiress did as she was told then smiled innocently.

Kyrsanthe rolled her eyes, smiling but complied "Rhian is the closest person I would consider to be my parent. The first few years of my childhood wasn't what one would consider ideal but when Rhian took me in I just knew things would get better. I owe her a lot" Krysa mused "Ironic, considering a lot of what I did yesterday and this morning feels like I've taken advantage of her trust"

"I think you're being too hard on yourself, besides when was the last time you did something on a whim? In university? Three years ago with that guy-"

"We are not going to talk about him!" Danika flinched at the tone of Krysanthe's voice, she never thought the small woman would be capable of producing it. In the short time that the youngest O'Brien knew her Krysa had been professional, a touch too much in Danika's opinion, and controlled but hospitable and kind. Whoever this guy was must really hit a sore spot.

The car fell silent after Krysa's outburst, Jacqueline was uncharacteristically silent, Krysa had worn her sunglasses and put on earphones while Danika continued staring out into their surroundings, distracting herself with the beautiful yet distant sights.

******************

A gas station out in the backroads was not something Danika had expected to find. Yet here they were at-Danika raised her head to read the sign again Stone's Stop.

Jacqueline had claimed that this was the best place to rest up before going on with their trip despite Krysa's look of incredulity. Danika had a few reservations about this place, mainly because the fact that it's in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by a lot of trees making it look way more sinister than Jac claims. But to be fair, the place was clean and had a decent looking convenience store.

There was a tall and burly man coming out from another building beside the convenience store, wiping his hands on a cloth.

Jacqueline parked the truck beside one of the fuel pumps, the girls got out of the car and Jac grinned as she came forward while the other two lingered behind.

Danika didn't hear what Jacqueline or the man were saying but she could see that they were glad to see each other, both girls began to slowly relax seeing the stranger grin and laugh while talking to their friend.

"I take it you don't know him" the heiress whispered.

Kyrsa shook her head "Jac likes to roam, which usually results into some unusual friendships" she smiled suddenly "It's a lovely of hers, being able to make friends wherever you go"

"Listen I'm sorry for snapping earlier. That topic is particularly-" Krysa paused "difficult to talk about"

"You know it's okay if you don't want to talk about something that you aren't comfortable with" Danika said as she squeezed Krysa's arm "But Jac deserves the apology, not really me"

Krysa squeezed Danika back.

Jac walked back to them still smiling "Alrighty ladies get whatever you need from the store. I'll fill her up then we'll get going"

"I'll catch up," Krysa told Danika.

Danika grinned as the florist turned to speak with their friend then to make her way to the convenience store. Taglist: @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @woodhousejay @dustylovelyrun

[etlunainmorte]

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

X

***

Later that day, Griffon was staring too hard at Nico ( who was holding an ice pack against her head ) as she rewinded again and again at a certain video that one of the spy cameras captured last night. V ( who was idly waving off the cigarette smoke that wafted too close to his nostrils ) was on another table nearby studying the photos that she found.

"What are ya doin' now?" Griffon asked the woman for the third time that day as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at what she was trying to capture.

"Will ya shut yer beak for a while? I'm tryin' to concentrate." Nico answered as she clicked harshly on her mouse once more.

It was the same for V. He studied the photographs ( or what was written on them ) and read (Y/N)'s journal ( which, by the way, manifested another entry ) over and over again but, the dots doesn't seem to connect, at all.

Yes, the two looked like they were very much in love. Yes, they met during that summer gathering that May of 1898. However, he just couldn't see what their connection was with the ghosts that were haunting this mansion.

And most importantly, he just couldn’t see the reason why (Y/N) would change into that emotionless matriarch in the portrait.

If she’s truly happy, then why would - ?

Unless,…

V took a photograph of Victor reading something to (Y/N), who was sitting right next to him. He turned it and read the simple writings at the back.

I wish we could stay like this for a while.

V's eyes narrowed at the message. The name of whoever wrote in it, whether it was (Y/N) or Victor, was not indicated, and the feeling of dread that he suddenly felt in it spelled something entirely worse in his mind.

"Shit!" Nico muttered as she slammed on her table, startling Griffon in the process.

V looked at the other photographs and found similar looking shots of the couple looking very happy. And as he rightfully suspected, they all bore the same vague messages at the back.

I love you. So much.

I missed you. So badly, it hurts.

I hope you're happy, wherever you are.

That last message startled the poet. "I hope you're happy, wherever you are." He read again, this time, out loud. He turned the photo and saw Victor holding hands with (Y/N) as they looked at each other with content smiles on their face. She was wearing what looked like a lace veil on her head and they were both wearing similar rings. There were people cheering for them on the background and he even saw (Y/N)'s maidservant throwing petals at them.

Wait. Is this,... their wedding?

He looked once more at the photograph. It can't be a wedding since the "event" merely took place in the library / music room. He looked harder once more,...

... until he finally noticed something strange. It was only a very little detail but, he was certain of it. On the left corner of the photo was a male figure standing away from the others. It was really hard to see his face considering the poor quality of the old photo but, V was a hundred percent sure that he doesn't look happy for the couple.

He took another photograph from the box and saw the same group of people ( the couple was now kissing and looking absolutely happy ) and the same, strange man, his face still unrecognizable. He grabbed the pictures he was looking at and realized, to his utter horror, that every time (Y/N) and Victor were involved in a single photograph, the strange one would invade the scene like an unwanted visitor.

And he still couldn't see his face.

He needed to see more. He needed to -

"Holy hell!" Griffon exclaimed, now startling V and putting him out of his concentration. "V, look at this!"

The poet obliged and left his temporary workplace to look at what Nico and his familiar were doing. Nico waited for V to arrive, and when he finally did, she showed him a clip from the video she trimmed. She even slowed it down several times, and the result was mind - blowing.

All three of them stared in disbelief as they saw V making his way to (Y/N)'s room, and when he vanished a few seconds later, something materialized on the place where he stood. It was only for a split - second but, it was unmistakable: they saw a man clothed in white,...

Both Griffon and Nico shrieked in fright at the top of their lungs as they heard a loud banging on the front door. V, being the only ( slightly ) sane person left, stood and opened it. He was greeted by a group of middle - aged women smiling at him like nobody's business.

"What can I do for you?" He politely asked, his low voice giving the women some chills of the unspeakable kind.

"Is this the Lancaster residence?" The woman asked, her wide smile giving V some creeps of the unspeakable kind.

"Why, yes. It is."

V's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as the middle - aged women giggled and shrieked and slapped each other in the arms at the same time.

"The groom is charming!"

"He's such a hottie!"

"Lucky bride!"

"AAHH!"

"Groom?" Nico questioned as she joined V at the door. "What are these hags doin' here?"

"I have no idea." V answered. He cleared his throat and addressed the women. "If you are looking for - "

The leader of the group, who wore the heaviest makeup among all of them, took V's hands and shook it over and over in excitement. "I would like to inform you that today is your lucky day, Mr. Francisco!"

"I believe you have the wrong person - "

"And you must be Ms. Edwards! Oh, my! It's so nice to finally meet you."

"We're not - "

"So, can we start the planning for the layout of the wedding of the century now?"

"I'm sorry but - "

"AHEM!"

All of them turned to see the real Mr. Francisco and Ms. Edwards just behind the women, giving them weird looks with raised eyebrows.

"You're looking for us?" Avery asked as she crossed her arms over her shoulders.

*

"We definitely have to solve this problem soon." V told Nico and Griffon a few minutes later as Avery and Roman brought the wedding planners to the garden to have their meeting regarding their upcoming event. "The wedding is in five days."

"I get ya." Nico, who finally ditched the ice pack, agreed. "So, any other leads?" V showed Nico the photographs where the strange man appeared, and as the woman picked them up and studied them very, very closely, she nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah. I'm positive of it: this man," she uttered, then pointed at her PC with her left thumb. " ... and the one that showed up after you're gone are the same. Heck, he may be our main ghost here but, we have to be sure. All that’s left for us by then is to drive him out and let him know he’s not invited to the wedding.”

"But, how is he connected to all of this?" Griffon questioned as he, too, took a good long look at the photos that were scattered on the table.

V let out a sigh as he took out (Y/N)'s diary from his pocket. Then, he opened it and turned to the page where some writings recently materialized. Nico and Griffon went over to his side to read the new entry along with him.

May 11, 1898

I finally met him! The man of my dreams! The one and only Victor Blake! I just can't believe it! He IS actually IN THE SAME HOUSE AS ME RIGHT NOW! And what's more,

He even quoted poetry as he looked at me! He even kneeled before me and took my hand in his!

And, oh my God! He kissed the back of my hand!

I honestly thought I was going to die but Daniella brought me back. And when she said later that Mr. Blake likes me, I just felt that I could die right then and there with a smile and go to heaven!

Victor Blake - liking me?

My wildest dreams must be turning into reality! I mean, there are a lot of other beautiful women out there but,

HE CHOSE ME!

Oh my God, I simply can't believe this! I really am going to die and go straight to heaven with this!

Oh, God forgive me...

I know I must be exaggerating. But who cares? Daniella might be wrong about her assumptions but I still like him. No. I love him. And that's all that matters. He can ignore me and I will still love him. Until the day I die.

P.S.

My father just announced that all the important guests would be staying here for three months! And that includes Mr. Blake!

P.P.S.

I can't sleep knowing that he's just literally below me on the first floor, sleeping or reading or writing maybe. He may be writing. Books and poems and proses. I wonder what they're all about?

"That girl surely fell hard for ya, V." Nico mused, and when the poet just raised an eyebrow at her, knowing full well that (Y/N), in fact, fell for a different kind of V, she just smirked. "I'm jokin’!"

"Well, ya can't just follow an infatuated brat around and get ourselves attacked like that again!" Griffon screamed at V, who was still looking at the writings on the journal. "It's just suicidal! Plus, it doesn't really help us with the mission."

"Maybe." V finally spoke up. He slammed the journal shut and hid it once more as he gained the attention of his two companions. "But, this man," he said, then pointed at the said man in the photographs. " ... was connected to both (Y/N) and Victor. And I must find out everything about this,… connection. I will not rest,… until I do.”

"Ugh! Count me out, please! I don't wanna go back there!" His demonic familiar pleaded.

"We don't have a choice." Nico answered as she left for a while to pick up the radio from her own table. "We started this. And we have to see this through."

V nodded in agreement as he received his radio from her. "I'll go back there tonight. I'll be relying on you to watch everything from here to the highest floor."

"As if I have a choice!"

"Nico, you - "

The woman waved her hand at him. "Yeah, yeah. Keep yer panties on. I can endure another night here. Besides,..." She held up her radio, pressed a button, and after a few seconds, they finally heard what she recorded in it last night.

And it truly frightened them.

"Hello? Is anybody here? If there are,... any spirits here, say HHHOOOEEE!"

"What is that,... ?" Griffon questioned as they heard some strange whispers after Nico stopped talking.

"If there are any spirits here, say - "

"GET OUT! GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN! HE'S AFTER THEM! AFTER ALL THIS TIME! HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU! RUN! RUN AWAY FROM HERE! RUN AS FAST AS YOU - !"

"SHUT UP!"

"AAAHHH!"

V covered his mouth as he waited for the shrill and unearthly noises to subside. But, it only gradually worsened as it got more and more distorted that Nico had to turn it off.

"I heard a different voice last night, and I do not remember hearing anything like that." Nico confessed as she put the radio down to light another cigarette. "After that, this strange entity with big red eyes started chasin' me around until I have to hide. It's when I found that box containin' those old photographs." She sighed and shook her head as she bumped her forehead several times with her fist. She looked up once more and faced her companions. "So, ready for round two?"

Nico didn't have to tell him.

He will definitely solve this mystery. He must.

***

✒ @la-vita , @micaelagua , and @v-vic . ✒

***

✒✒✒

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[nightowlfandom]

Requested: Jungkook (The Bad Boy AU)

ALRIGHTY, LET'S DO THIS SHIT!

Requests from the prompt list RIGHT HERE .Also I should say that you don't HAVE to follow the exact list of prompts if you don't want to, it's just there to stir some ideas :)

10- "Could we go four seconds without you being annoying?"

18- "Only make that face in front of me..

20- "I'm bored. Wanna Fuck?"

48- "You deserve someone who cares about you."

I'm not sure how I did on this buuutt yeh. Hope I did your request justice! It'll take a while before we get to the good stuff as usual with me. I'm really bad with bad boy AUs.......

"Hey!!" you snapped as your favorite book fell to the floor. How dare this all black clad, bear mouth mask wearing, punk insult poetry like that. "You almost rammed me into the doors!"

It wasn't like you didn't blend in, like come on you were literally the only (insert race here) in the hallway at the moment!

Jeon Jungkook turned around, his eyes darting down at you who had managed to pick up your book, smoothing out it's pages. He walked back over to you, leaning a hand against the lockers. "Aw I'm sorry Y/N. Is the book okay?" he said in a baby-ish voice.

"Most likely not" you answered flatly. "Suffered minor damage."

"Whoops." He winked. You couldn't see his mouth under that stupid bear mouth mask but you were sure those lips were formed into a smirk. "Sorry to hear it." he shrugged before catching up with his friends. You glared at his back, shaking your head mentally as other girls secretly gawked at him.

What was the appeal? He broke rules for one, he rarely does his work, he's just!

Growling under your breath, you didn't realized your friend, Lisa had walked up to you. (It can be Blackpink's Lisa, or whoever you want lol).

"Why does Jungkook always make you so mad." she giggled.

"Because he enjoys making my like a living hell." you grumbled.

"Come on, I packed lunch for us both." she laughed, patting your back. You followed Lisa to the cafeteria. The way your school was made, you had classes in the morning, all the important stuff, then lunch around noon. Then the rest of the school day was focused on fine arts. Gym, music, art, etc. The students who decided they didn't want to follow rules we're given extra classes or worse...cleaning duty.

Exactly the reason you were the perfect student. The hell you look like cleaning floors or a tiny room that makes you claustrophobic.

You and Lisa sat at your usual spot.

"So what are your plans after lunch?" Lisa asked, furiously biting into her sandwich. "Ugh, I accidentally ate yours again. I really have to label these things."

You laughed you two switched sandwiches. "Probably gonna go to the dance studio next to the gym." you shrugged. "Work on some stuff."

"You're the only person I know who looks graceful dancing, but right after when you begin to walk, falls on your face." she laughed. You flicked a peice of bread at her, making her laugh louder. Your happiness died down at you saw 'them' enter the room. They were all laughing like the delinquents they were.

"Incoming." you rolled your eyes as your table was approached.

"Hey Y/N. When are we finally gonna go on a date?" Namjoon winked. Lisa fake gagged as you answered.

"When hell freezes over." you flatly said, causally drinking your bottle of apple juice.

"How cold." Namjoon took the sandwich from your hand and took a bite. "Not bad, American cheese?"

"Hey! That was mine!" you said disgusted as it was set back down in front of you. You used a plastic knife to cut around where his mouth touched. "And for the record, it's Pepper jack cheese!"

"Awww she's defending herself." Yoongi cooed. "She's adorable."

"Jungkook could you please inform your friends that just because I tolerate you does not mean the favor transfers to them?" you looked up at Jungkook who had taken off his mouth mask.

"Aw do you only want me to make fun of you?" he put a hand over his heart before walking over to you. "How thoughtful!"

"Could we go four seconds without you being annoying?!" You asked, raising a brow, before you face formed a pout.

"Oh another thing." Jungkook leaned close to your face, his fingers grazed your chin. "Only make that cute face in front of me."

"What face?" you snapped, while ironically making the exact face he was talking about.

"Later Y/N." he chuckled. You swore a genuine smile crossed his features. Maybe you were hallucinating.

You watched as they walked away, leaving you and Lisa. "He totally likes you." she giggled. "I can tell."

"I hope you're wrong." you sighed." I'm gonna throw our trash away."

As you went over to the trashcans, you were approached by a girl, you knew who she was but not so much her name. You kept forgetting.

She would brag about how her parents have ties to the biggest companies in the country. Good for her, she'd have some luck decided that type of idol Career she'd want to choose, that was pretty cool! What wasn't cool was the fact that she always rubbed it in everyone's face. Every chance she got.

"You think you're good enough for one of the Bangtan boys?!" she crossed her arms like a stereotypical villain.

"No. They think that I actually enjoy their presence in my sight." you scoffed. "The bastards."

"Liar! You're probably trying to-"

"I didn't ask for them to just come up to me, you can have them." you began. "I have no interest in-"

Before you could process what had just happened you fell a rush of coldness down your front. Only to see the girl with an empty cup and a smirk. You stared down at your shirt just to see foam and macha powder. The side of your face had warm liquid (most likely coffee) dripping down your cheek.

"That'll teach you to interrupt me, stay away from Jungkook."

The entire cafeteria went silent before erupting into whispers.

"Poor Y/N"

"Why did she do that?"

"Y/N wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Y/N is so sweet, how could anyone bully her?"

You couldn't believe what had just happened, this girl purposely dumped her drink all over you. In front of everyone.

Your eyes instantly darted over to where Jungkook and his friends sat. They all stared in disbelief. Why did you suddenly care if Jungkook saw? You saw traces of sympathy, worry even. Or maybe that was your brain playing trick on you.

Embarrassed, upset, and taken aback you stared over at Lisa who quite literally jumped over the table and ran over to you.

"Y/N....Y/N speak!" Lisa shook your shoulders. You turned away from your friend, back to girl. Before you knew it, she was on the floor holding her nose. A pain shot down your knuckles in the realization that you, good girl Y/N had just punched one of the meanest people in school.

You made a beeline for the exit. You didn't run, nor did you fast-walk. You wouldn't give anyone who hated you the satisfaction of knowing you were embarrassed.

As soon as you got outside, you ran. You didn't care where your feet took you...you just ran.

This. Was. All. His. Fault.

"Y/N." a masculine voice called from behind you. "Hey!"

You turned around to meet Jungkook who had caught up with you. "Are you okay?"

"Stay away from me." you warned. "Your little girlfriend gave me a message, which I'll deliver back to you. Don't talk to me, don't look at me. Matter of fact, don't breathe around me." you began, choking a bit, " if THIS is the treatment I GET FOR JUST TOLERATING YOUR PICKING ON ME-"

"What are you talking about?!" he cut you off. "Are you crying?"

"I just got hot coffee spilled on me because that girl in there is under the impression that I have an infatuation with you!" you poked his chest. "Of course I'm crying you imbecile! She did this to me because of you!"

Before you knew it, Jungkook had whipped out a napkin and wiped the dripping coffee off your face. You didn't say anything as he wiped around your eyes and hairline.

Why was he being so nice to you?

"You really are a goody two shoes." he shook his head. "She's not my girlfriend, I don't even know her!"

That still didn't change the fact that he was the subject to the reason you got a green tea latte spilled on you.

"Then why did she-" you began. "Forget it." you turned away. You didn't even care about the fine-arts portion of that day, you just wanted go home.

"Because she's jealous that I give you all my attention!"

"Which brings me back to why? You always seem to have a new girl on your arm every time I see you. You should be laughing in my face with the rest of your friends, you should be making a snide comment, you shoul-"

Jungkook suddenly spun you around and kissed you in the middle of your rant. His fingers tilted your chin up. "Mm, when will you learn to shush."

You couldn't wrap your head about what had just happened.

...

"You still mad at me?" Jungkook asked and you angrily scrubbed a beaker. Of course the first time you defend yourself, your punishment is detention. WITH JUNGKOOK NO LESS.

You didn't answer, running the glass under water and setting it down with the rest of the lab supplies. "Hey, I'm bored. Wanna fuck?"

You almost dropped the test tube you were holding as you turned to glare at him. "What do you want?" you bit back a snide comment.

"To talk to you." he said is a "duh" tone.

"Well I don't." you replied. You just wanted to serve this detention and never get another one. "And no, I'll pass on fucking you."

"Aw maybe next time. Do you have a boyfriend or something?" he asked, leaning against the counter. You shook your head to signify that you did not. "Why?"

"Because nobody cares enough." you said flatly. "Happy?"

"No really. You're great!" Jungkook mused. "Any guy would be happy to have you."

"Huh?" you raised a brow. "What are you getting at?"

"You deserve someone who-....who cares about you Y/N. Who wants to see you happy." he said seriously. "Someone who knows you, but also learns new things about you as well." he chuckled. "Like how good of a hit you are despite me only ever seeing you read books." You focused on Jungkook's face, where was the annoying bad boy who always got on your nerves? He was still there, right?

"Whose dumb enough to care about a stick in the mud goody two shoes like me." you looked down at your shoes. "I'm all about rules and knowledge. I've never met someone who finds that endearing."

"You really are innocent." he shook his head. "Do I have to spell it out?"

You looked up at Jungkook who wore that typical smirk that didn't reach his eyes. He brushed a few hairs from over your eyes. Jungkook crashed his mouth over yours. He threw the sponge you were holding off somewhere and your hands tangled in his hair.

You leaned your head back, feeling his scalding hot mouth against your flesh. His tongue left a scorching trail down your neck. His hand contrasted in temperature, feeling cold as he slid under your shirt. Your hands rested on his cheeks, your lips moving steadily together. Before you know it, you were being lifted onto the counter.

"Does this mean you like me back?" he chuckled, smiling cheekily.

...

"Come on. If anyone says anything, I'll kick their asses." Jungkook cheekily smiled. You two stood outside the double doors of the entrance to the school. Last week was hectic and seemed like so much happened.

"Okay." you slipped your hand in his. It was like several gasps could be heard. The two polar opposites seen holding hands, stop the presses! Innocent little you was seen holding hands with the man who broke the last principal's nose.

You walked over to Lisa who was wearing a smirk. "Told you so."

"Shut up." you mumbled.

"Hey, you got an eye problem fuckface?" you heard Jungkook growl at who you assumed was someone who was glaring a little too hard. "Look somewhere else before I-"

"Aye Jungkook!" Hoseok suddenly walked up. "Calm down bro. Hey Y/N, you're looking-"

"Say anything to her that she doesn't like and there will be one less man alive today." He warned, pulling you closer to him.

"So you two are-" Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

To answer his question, Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and crashed his lips over yours, causing fake gags and "EW's" to erupt from his friends.

"Get a room would ya?" Jin rolled his eyes.

(AND WE'RE DONE! WHOO! MY POST WAS TOO LONG WTF AAAH. I HIT THE MAX POST LIMIT WITH LINE BREAKS TELL ME IF YOU WANT A PART TWO!)