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jungxk · 4 years

Text

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

4 years ago

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold.

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces.

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed.

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #bts x reader #bts au #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin au #bts fic #jungkook fic #jimin fic #jungkook college au #jimin college au #bts college au #myfic

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thevoilinauttheory · 3 years

Text

The Funeral

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 29: Debonair ]

[ Content Warnings: passive suicidal ideation; death and blood mentions ]

[ Just want to note here... that this started as one thing and ended as another and don’t have the energy to change it because it ended up being so long lol I wanted to try something different, but then it went *way* different, so. Uh. Here you go! 😂 official video not posted due to the fact that it was flashing enough to bother me, so it might bother someone else. ]

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“He’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Have you seen him ever show an onze of emotion?” “He may be the eldest, but do they really think he’d be the best heir?” “He’d run the family into the ground, if given the chance.”

He could hear them through the walls, the jabs at his character. How dare they? Was he not the perfection the rest of the noble community sought? Or was it his perfection that made them think as such? His ears twitched. Someone was coming, and by the weight of the footsteps…

“Cedre, Mother wishes to speak with you.” Sylvain gripped at the hem of his shirt - nervous. All of his siblings were intimidated by him. All of the people he would call his friends did the same. Cedrenaux stood from the bench he sat on, waiting for his parents to call him in. This gathering was supposed to be one of levity, other houses joining them for a single night of enjoyment. It was always too bright in here. The bright blues, the bright reds, the bright violets and whites and lights. Dear gods, the lights. He spoke no words to his brother, passing by him in some furied silence. Or, what Sylvain would think as he passed by.

“Cedrenaux, dear! Look at you, dressed to the nines~.” His aunt was the first to applaud him - for what, exactly? He never knew. All of them praised him for some unholy reason. “Well, it is only proper for him to be dressed so.” His mother was a walking contradiction. Doting, and yet, not so easily impressed. She brushed some of his stray hairs down, the wavy near-curls springing up to their own liking. Despite the fact that he was old enough to do so himself, old enough to speak for himself, he did not. “I want you to meet this lovely girl,” She turned him towards a beautiful woman, slightly older than him; fair skin, chestnut hair, what wondrous green eyes. “This is Cassandra Babineaux, under House Dzemael. Cassandra, this is my eldest son--” “Cedrenaux. A pleasure.” His voice was dry, it said anything but. He offered her a formal bow. “You two are to spend much time together, in fact, why don’t you get to know each other a bit more now?”

“Cassandra is to be your bride, Cedrenaux, you must compose yourself well.” “Yes, Mother.” He stood still as his mother fussed over his appearance, brushing lint from his shoulders, straightening his jacket. While it was infuriating to be coddled like a child, he let her do her thing, letting out a short sigh when she stepped away. “While this marriage is arranged, you two have gotten along so well - we thought it best that you would propose to her in a traditional fashion as well. I am certain it would mean a lot to her.” “Yes, Mother.”

He couldn’t stand her. There was always something off about the woman. To be married to her was going to be a long road, one that would likely never end - not until he was at the end of his days. The temptation was there - death would be far preferable, but he knew that his family needed this. After the accurate accusation of his grandmother as a heretic by the Dzemaels - his mother’s mother, worse off - they needed to make amends to the House. To prove that just one was enough. Once his mother left him, he took himself to the closest mirror. His hair was tied up in a bundle of wavy curls, not quite untamed, though no less annoying. He pulled the band from it, letting it fall loose; using his fingers to comb it out. Princely, straight from a faerie tale - that’s what Cassandra had called it. Disgusting.

“Cedrenaux?” A soft voice peered through the door, nervous and shaking. “Isabelle, is something amiss?” “N-No, not… not really. You look upset.” “...I am.” “Is it the marriage?” “...” He nodded slowly as he strode to the door, opening it fully for his youngest sister. She was easy to talk to, she had no room to judge anyone else, nor did she have a habit of doing so. “It’ll… be okay, I think.” Cedrenaux shook his head. “No, it will not. I do not like her in the slightest.” “But you got along so well…” “Because I was forced to… I do not want to marry, and especially not her.” “Why is that?” “Aside from a bad feeling…? I… I cannot say.” He muttered to himself, eyes to the floor, a crack in his usual expression. “...I simply do not like any aspect of her.” “Have you found another lady that caught your fancy?” “....” How was he supposed to answer that? He opted for another shake of his head. “No. I have had no interest in any of them. I have been putting my focus into my studies.” “I see.” She needed no other words to explain, she only smiled. “It’ll be okay. I can feel it. In the end, it’ll be okay.”

“I… am at a loss for words.” “Cedre, dear, please, I didn’t mean--” “Did not mean…? For what? To take on another man, force him into marriage? We have two children, Cassandra - that something like this happened is beyond me.” “You’re not… leaving, are you?” “Your kind are not wont to change.” “B-But.. the kids-” “Are in your capable hands. Perhaps you will no longer find your eyes wandering when you are pressured to do the job I have been doing whilst you were galavanting about with another man. The poor sod better be thankful he got away when he could.” “...Not without stealing the better half of our funds…” “Of your funds. Good riddance too.” “Cedre y-you sound so…” “Pleased? Gods be, I am. I had been looking for years for a way to get you far from me.”

Those words were heartbreaking to anyone who would hear them - and a relief to the one who said them. Cedrenaux finally felt a weight off of his shoulders. Such a relief to breathe out. “Since we are on that topic, I had never liked you to begin with - we were only together thanks to our parents.” “L-Love, I--” “Do not address me as such, lumping me in with the Brume rabble you called your lover. Of course, I side with him - the abuse you have fed both of us.” “You would punish our children over this?!” The shock wore off, it turned to anger. “Hm? I am sorry, did you say “our”? No, no. They are your children now. You can disclude me from the picture. Of course, I did already speak to them. They are old enough to understand how rotten you are, and thankfully, old enough to know how to ruin the rest of your days. Of course, in the end, you will have wonderful heirs to your house and name. Seeing as I taught them as such.”

“What would your mother say once you came home? She’d be disappointed, angry. She’d make you come back.” “Oh, do not worry. Your backstabbing name will be littered upon the ears of others, I am certain my mother will be just fine with it.”

“Please, wait! Wait, I have evidence!” Cedrenaux tried to push his way past the Templars which guarded the Vault. Guarded the trial - the trial against his parents. He held above him the papers, the ones that showed their innocence. “They are not guilty, you must hear me!”

“Lord Voilinaut.” One of the clergy approached him - a tone that made his heart sink. She took the papers from him, a slight twitch of shock. “I apologize, my lord, but you are too late. Their sentence was held a quarter of a bell ago. These papers, however -...” She shook her head. “This would not be enough, though I will see to it that these are filed properly so that no future mistakes will happen.”

“Y-You… admit… it was… a mistake?” He could feel it, it boiled under him, made his skin itch. He bared his teeth in a scowl, words sharp with his shouts. “You would murder for your own sakes?! They were not guilty! If I could find the evidence, why could you not have?!” The Templars struggled to keep the young lord from attacking the clergywoman, having to catch him by his collar and arms. “I apologize, my lord. I do not oversee the investigations, but I shall apprise them of the situation so that no others will have to face an injustice like this.” Cedrenaux managed to settle himself, composing with a sigh. “...Very well… so long as it does not happen again. You will regret the next time it does.”

He could hear the papers burning in the room she had left to.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. If I could ask a favor of you…” An Elezen, far taller than he - though who would not be? Even the hyurs in the city were taller than him. Dressed in nobles’ clothes, light hair, fair eyes. “And you are?” “Tristan.” “...Tristan.” “My… full name is rather long, and this moniker suits me well.” “I see, and what can I do for you?” “...It…” Tristen looked about for any passerbys. “Perhaps we could sit over here, it… concerns a rather personal matter.” He gestured to the gazebo of the Voilinaut’s estate. Cedrenaux nodded, leading in taking a seat.

“I… have heard many things. I would clarify if they are true or not, and if they are… perhaps you could listen to my plight. I have heard that upon your divorce with Cassandra, your parents were tried for heresy.” “...That is true. You know of Cassandra?” “I know that she is behind it - ah… I know… from personal experience, as she has done the same with my family. They are currently in a gaol awaiting their sentence.” “How do you know?” “...She screamed at me as such when I pushed myself from her.” “You were…?” “Also married, yes. At the time you were.” “You certainly do not look the part of the man I had found her with. Do you mean to say she was doing as such with three individuals?” “I am, yes.”

Cedrenaux folded his arms over his chest, inhaling sharply. He closed his eyes to think, ears twitching to the sounds of other gossip from down the road. “...And what favor would you ask of me.” “That I may remain in your estate as a guest, until I am given my home back after the investigation. I am without one, currently.” “....” He wasn’t keen on sharing his home with strangers, especially since they were in the process of moving furniture out; sorting through paperwork and memories. How could he not lend aid to another who has shared this pain - who will share this pain. He knew that Tristan would not see his family again. Cedrenaux nodded slowly, bringing a bright smile to Tristan’s face. “I thank you, sir,” “Cedrenaux.” “I thank you, Cedrenaux. For your kindness.” He shook his head. “...Do not worry of it. My family will see to it that you will have a place to stay. Do excuse the mess.”

With a heavy thud, Tristan had his back trapped against the wall. Such brashness was rewarded with the second heavy emotion he had shown - first anger, now… Cedrenaux sputtered under his words, some semblance of fear on his face as his fingers clutched into the hem of his own shirt. Tristan let out a bright laugh, that perfectly playful smile. He was so forward, how could anyone act without shame - or at least thought to their actions. Or, perhaps he did think it over and--

“You’re so adorable like this!” Tristan pushed off the wall to let Cedrenaux have some breathing room. “L-Like what? What do you mean?” Despite the blatant display of emotion, and the catch of his teeth on his lips, his voice still stayed dry and even. “C’mon, I know you’re not that much of an idiot.” Silence. There was no response - he definitely was not that much of an idiot, still--

“Why?” “Why not?” He was nudged with an elbow. “The moons I’ve stayed here, you have shown nothing but care and kindness to your family - and myself. Of course, not everyone would call it that, but… you really are adorable.” Tristan leaned forward to pinch his cheek. His smile faded as he lowered his voice. “You have a lot of qualities about you that no one else does, something the rest of Ishgard needs. You exude safety, protection, you’re diligent - strong.” His smile came back with something softer. “They don’t see it, but I do.”

“...” Cedrenaux looked down to the floor - he was tense from the surprise, but it was relief that came from his breath. “Thank you.” It took a bit, a little moment, but he smiled. Nothing as bright as the man’s in front of him, but it existed. He took a careful step forward, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing… but he wrapped his arms around him, tucking his head into Tristan’s chest. “....” He smelled of Starlight - he wouldn’t forget that. Pine and cinnamon, a fresh fire, winter air. It was… it was comforting. It reminded him of the times he could truly be a child with no worry of others’ thoughts. “...Thank you…” His voice was soft now, afraid to speak aloud. Gods, if his siblings saw him.

Even Tristan was surprised by the forward action on Cedrenaux’s part, but he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close as he placed his head atop his. “Just one night?” “...Just one.”

One night turned to moons - moons of a fleeting emotion.

“Is Lord Tristanaireux in? We received word that he would be staying with your house.”

Several Templars were at their door. Cedrenaux knew exactly what that meant. “The investigation is over then? Should he return home?” “...He is, yes.” Their hesitation said otherwise. He saw that too. “Is that right, then? I will escort him then, to make sure he arrives safely.” “There is no need for that, we will-” “I do not trust you. After the last time, I refuse to.” “My lord, we have found relics of heresy amongst his belongings. He needs to be turned in--” “You would lie to me, on my estate?” Cedrenaux’s voice got low, deep, something dark.

“A-Apologies, m-my lord…” “Leave. Come back when you have hard evidence that it is his, and that it was not planted by you nor anyone else.” “Sir, you will be tried, too, if--” “Learn your battles, boy.” The Templars at his door were armed, and yet they made no moves against him. As if they truly were afraid of just him alone.

“Lord Cedrenaux, is aught amiss?” Another lord from the Dzemael house, when would they leave him alone? “No, in fact, these kind gentlemen were here to let me know that my friend is allowed to return home. ...Yes?” His glare pierced them. He made these fools stand straight, near threatened into admitting so. “Is that so? I had heard just the opposite. Are you housing a heretic, Lord Cedrenaux?” “On baseless accusation. Show me the evidence, and I will turn him over.” “The Vault is already in the possession of the evidence, s-sir…” The Templars spoke up again. “Then tell them to show me.”

His continuance on their argument was cut short, with Tristan looming over his shoulder. “What’s going on now?” “Back inside, now.” The sound of his voice turned to urgency, he was thankful Tristan understood - the man took a hefty step back, just before the sharp cry. “Grab the heretic, now!” Without so much as a second thought, the Templars trampled over Cedrenaux to seize Tristan from the hallway - dragging him out to the streets as he kicked. “Let go! I know naught of what you speak!”

As Cedrenaux found the strength to pick himself up off the floor, his eyes turned to the door - to the road - to the people across from his home - to the smile of the woman standing there. Her.. this was her fault. “Tristan!” His boots skid along the stone as he broke into a sprint. “Cedre!” The sound of his name was cut with a cry and grunt, a chained elbow smashed into his face - thrown into the ring in which the trial was being held. “Stop! I beg of you, please think before you act!”

It felt like the trial held for his parents, another mistake - another intentional mistake.

“The evidence was planted, my lords!” “By who.” They spoke to him, they addressed him. Gods be, he had a chance. “Cassandra Babineaux. She admitted to accusing not only his family, but mine as well, of baseless heresy. I had word that investigations would be thorough.” “What motives would she have to do this?” “We are both her ex-husbands, having committed adultery against us both - she seeks revenge for our leaving.” “Have the guard fetch this woman then.”

He could hear it, the sigh of relief from his love.

“I do not know what you speak, my lord! Why would I take the risk of being accused, myself? If I had planted it, I would have had the evidence on me at some point!” “Anything for revenge… first my grandmother, then my parents, now this…”

She lied through her teeth, she lied, and they both knew.

“Lord Cedrenaux, why would you accuse this woman of--” “Why would you believe her words over mine? Do you think me a liar, my lord? I have stood by and watched countless of my family die at your hands on false accusations - the truths brought to light, and still, you would do this?” “Why would you accuse me? I have found my love, I do not need yours nor his!” “Be- Because… I saw that look on your face, when I was on my way here, that smile of yours.” “Can I not greet you on the street?” “...” His jaw clenched. “Not when you just witnessed this man being dragged off.”

“Lord Voilinaut.” “Check her home, then, if you dare will! There’s plenty more evidence to plant, isn’t there?! One at a time, you will pick off those I love… who next, then? Sylvain? Valera? Isabelle?” He saw the corner of her mouth twitch at the mention of his youngest sister, that little detail. “Snake, impudent hag - you would harm such an innocent girl for your petty spite against me?!” Everything in his body could not stop him from lashing out, jumping on her in an instant - he only landed a single blow to her face before the Templars snatched him away from her.

“Calm yourself this instant!” The loud thud of a hand against the table snapped him from his rage. “You would conduct yourself in this manner, Lord Cedrenaux? Your accusation of your ex-wife is paranoia, that she is out to get you - she has clearly moved on. We will consider your evidence null.” “N-No, please! Do not harm him! He is innocent!” It was the first time he had ever cried, even as a baby; he screamed, but never shed a tear - he choked on his sobs. “Please…” He would resort to begging if it made it so, he sunk to his knees - he did not expect to hear the scream so close to his ears, so loud, it took up the room. He heard nothing else. The thump of the body on the floor, the spill of blood. The tile was stained with it.

Even as the room cleared, he did not move - he could not move. He cried, coughed, sobbed, screamed and yelled and begged what gods there were to make it stop.

In the end, all he could do was make certain that his family was safe.

#ffxivwrite2021 #prompt 29 #debonair #i could've done a number of prompts with this word #but if the first thing that came to mind was maximiloix's family #then imma make an excuse to write about them #hi #have cedrenaux #the second eldest of nine #i lied in that one prompt about sylvain #cedre's my fav next to maxim #i probably need a tag for off prompts like this lmao #history will be written #works for now #also #since he's mentioned like in the background #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 5 years

Text

Once in a Lifetime Ch.5

I can’t find enough RK900 gifs... -_-

"I'm going to go look for them, " Connor looked irritated.

"Has it been five minutes, already?" You regarded him, brow raised. Connor crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a desk. You both know it hasn't, he probably even set an alarm for five minutes, but every second that went by made him more and more anxious.

"You don't really think Gavin would do anything to hurt Nines, do you?" You finally asked.

"Why not? All detective Reed has ever done is express his dislike for androids, especially Nines and I, " the real question is how you could think otherwise, scoffing at his answer. Were you trying to set him off?

"I don't think you understand Gavin's motives as well as you think you do." Your laugh died in your throat when you met his eyes.

"And you do? Please, tell me what I'm missing." His words had a bite to them that even surprised him, not that he let it show.

"Clearly not your attitude, " you snapped. He should have known aggressive interrogation tactics were the quickest way to shut you down and sour your mood. He knew better than to add fuel to your fire, but he wanted to know why you would trust Gavin, of all people, with Nines and what secrets you were keeping between the two of you. The irritation was likely a result of the terrible news he had gotten from Fowler, mixing with his dislike of the reckless detective that risked his brother's life. You were just trying to help and he was being, as Hank would call it, an "ass". If he wants to get any information out of you, he will have to switch tactics immediately, and possibly back down for now.

"Sorry. I'm just worried."

"I know, just... We all gotta work together on this. You might not believe it, but Gavin does regret how yesterday went down." Connor only huffed out a breath, skeptical of your statement. If so, he has a funny way of showing it.

Gavin and Nines walked back over. Seeing Nines in a different set of clothes was surprising enough, but what really caught you off guard was the juice box he was sipping at. Where did he even get a juice box? How does Gavin know he can have a juice box?

"You two would make shitty parents, " Gavin tossed a small duffle bag, which Connor caught effortlessly. "Those clothes were causing a rash. He also started coughing on the way back. Lucky for you assholes, I know how to care for a kid."

"Shame you don't care for your partners as well." The words were out of Connor's mouth before he even registered they were there. You elbowed him in the side.

"Fuck you, plastic prick!" Gavin looked like he was about to pop off, but decided to storm off in the direction of the break room.

You sighed, "Come on, Nines, we're gonna wait for Connor by the car." You gave him a pointed look before taking the small android's hand and leading him out.

Connor knew what you wanted him to do, as much as he disliked it. He followed after Gavin, finding him leaning against a counter, waiting for the coffee to fill up. The hot headed detective refused to look at him.

"Gavin, I-"

"I don't wanna hear anything from a piece If shit like you, so why don't you just get the fuck out of here, " the man growled, still refusing to look Connor's way. Was that... Were his eyes wet? The android regarded him for a moment, realizing that he didn't know how to handle this. Gavin had never done this before.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" The man pushed off the counter, seething. A single tear escaped from his eye, and the realization only seemed to anger Detective Reed further.

"Sorry." Connor murmured, leaving as quickly as possible. Maybe he didn't understand Gavin as well as he thought.

..............

"What about this one?" You held up the shirt for Nines to inspect.

"No." He answered curtly, not even really looking at the shirt. You sighed. Surely shopping for a kid isn't really this difficult. How do regular parents do this?

"You're going to have to choose something, " Connor tried to reason.

"They are too childish." You wanted to bang your head against a wall. It's been almost an hour and they haven't so much as found socks for him.

"You know what, why don't you have a look. We'll be over at the car seats."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Connor's brow was scrunched up in concern. He didn't like Nines being unsupervised when he is defenseless.

"It's fine, this store is specifically for children. They even have security guards at the doors."

"I'm not a child!" Nines exclaimed. He was growing tired of being compared to one.

"We know, but that doesn't change the fact that you are for the time being, so just go find some clothes you can tolerate for a couple weeks and you'll be back to your turtlenecks and trousers in no time." You pinched the bridge of your nose. It wasn't even noon yet and you were already done with this day. "-and Nines, if you don't find something, I will choose for you, and I guarantee you will regret it. If you thought Hank's clothes we're atrocious..." You walked off, not even seeing what the other two were doing. Connor looked to Nines, shrugged, and followed after you.

Nines could do this, he wasn't some helpless kid. Surely he could find something that was at least halfway decent. Looking up, he couldn't help but think that people are stupid. Why would they make the clothes racks so high? Spying a blue sweater, he wanted to see if it was in his size, but he couldn't reach the hanger. After trying to shake it off, he stopped and took a moment, thinking his way around the problem. He tugged down on the sweater a bit before releasing it. It bounced up and off the rack.

Relishing his victory, he was happy to find the sweater was just his size and was soft to the touch. He found some button-up shirts and another sweater, this one in forest green, and even found a black turtleneck. It wasn't much, but his bundle was getting a little heavy. Looking around for the car seat department, he practically jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Hi," The little boy shouted from behind him, "my name's Jordan, what's yours?"

"N-Nines, " he shuddered, feeling uncomfortable, holding his bundle a little closer to himself. Conversation was never his strongpoint. Unlike Connor, he only had a basic social interaction program, as they had been working on fine tuning one for him when the revolution peaked. As he was a functional android, he was released without it. He would be lying if he wasn't envious of how easy his brother could make friends.

"That's a funny name. Is it 'cuz you're an android?" The boy blatantly stared at the LED on Nines head. His hands itched to shield the flashing light from the boy's gaze. Are kids usually this... rude? Technically, yes, Gavin had given him his nickname because it was easier than saying RK900, before he had registered a name different from Connor. It was the first sign that their relationship had shifted from animosity to partners. He liked his nickname.

"Jordan?" A woman's voice rang out, prompting both boys to look over to its origin, "Jordan? Jor- oh! There you are! I told you not to run off!" A plump, gaudy looking woman plodded over, spying Nines cowering slightly in his clothes.

"Why, hello there! Jordan, who's your little friend?"

"His name's Nines!"

"I-I see, " she clearly thought his name was weird too. Is this what everyone thought about his nickname? Was Gavin actually being insulting when he started calling him that? No, that didn't make sense. "Are you lost?"

"No, my-"

"Hey Nines! I found something I think you might like!" You came up, Connor right behind you, pushing a cart with several items in it, including the accursed car seat. You spotted Jordan and his mother. "You making friends or causing trouble?" You asked with a smirk.

"Wow, you look just like your fath-..." Jordan's mother's voice trailed down, eyes making contact with Connor's LED. As you took Nine's bundle of clothes and put them in the basket, she could see his LED too.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Connor looked to the mother. Her face hardened.

"You should keep your robot on a leash and away from human children! He could have hurt my little boy!" She snarled, grabbing her son and yanking him against herself. You instinctively took Nines and pulled him behind you, squaring your shoulders.

"Only thing hurting your child is your bigotry. Nines' is free to go wherever he wants, and I'm not gonna let some ignorant bitch tell him otherwise! You don't want your son talking to androids, maybe you should keep him on a leash. Already raising him to be close-minded, might as well confine the rest of his world. Now, if you excuse us, I need to go wash the taste out of my eyes." You kept Nines close to you as you walked past, arm across his shoulder, as if you expected the woman to lash out, and from the look on her face, it wasn't exactly unjustified.

"Least I didn't havta buy my man, " the woman mumbled when she thought she was out of earshot.

"Could have fooled me from all that make-up you're wearing. Old hag." You'll be damned before you let that bitch have the last word. The woman took her son's hand, dragging him away.

"Bye, Nines!" Jordan shouted, immediately being reprimanded by his mother.

When she was gone, you dropped down, looking Nines over.

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" Nines shook his head. Not many people harassed him for being an android in his old body. His stony face and piercing gaze kept most away. Even criminals cowered from him. Matter of fact, only Gavin had taunted him, but he saw it more like a small dog trying to act tough, more adorable than annoying. It was... Upsetting to experience this first hand. He also felt bad for Jordan, to be raised in such an oppressive environment.

"No, she didn't do anything. Can we go home?" you checked him once more before you conceded.

"Alright, " you guided him to the cash register, Connor following with the cart behind. Nines was trying so valiantly not to cry, biting his lips as he quietly sobbed. Unable to stop yourself, you hoisted him into your arms, balancing him on your hip while pressing his head into the crook of your neck.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh... You're alright... It's okay..." You spoke gently, rubbing his back soothingly. Nines hid his face against you and weeped.

Connor unloaded the cart, watching the interaction. He was mesmerized. It seemed so natural and if he didn't know better, he would have thought he was watching a nurturing mother comforting a troubled child. He didn't even hear when the teller told him the total.

"Sir?"

"Right." He snapped out of his thoughts, placing his hand on the palm reader and confirming the transaction. He couldn't believe how much everything totaled to. Kamski will be reimbursing him.

You continued to console Nines as Connor set up the car seat.

"I want my old body back, " he whimpered against you, so softly it broke your heart.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. We'll get it back for you, I promise, " Connor nodded to you, informing you that he was finished, "come on, let's go home." Gently, you placed him in the car seat, fastening him in. Nines wiped at his face, trying to calm himself. Before you backed out, you reached for the center console, pulling out a small packet of wet wipes.

"Look here, " his eyes met yours, watching as you smiled at him, softly wiping his cheeks, the coolness of it felt good to his flushed cheeks, "you know, he must like you, the little boy you were with. Why else would he blatantly disobey his mother?" He nodded. That is true, Jordan did say goodbye to him. Surely, he had to know that would upset his mother.

"Why does she hate us?" He asked.

"People always have their own reasons, some self-justification why they are the way they are. We will probably never know why, " his head fell forward, disheartened, but you took his chin in your hand and made him look back at you, "but don't believe that everyone is like that, and people change. You should understand that better than anyone, " you grinned knowingly. Nines cheeks heated when he realized what you were insinuating, cracking a small smile. You ruffled his hair, watching him fight to fix it before climbing out and shutting the door. Connor was standing next to you.

"You're really getting the hang of this, " he smiled, leaning down and kissing your cheek.

"Thanks, " you blushed, "we still need to get to the grocery store. We better move quickly, his model requires an afternoon nap or he'll get cranky."

#rk800 connor reader #Connor fanfiction #connor x reader #rk900 nines #reed900 #DBH #Detroit Become Human #Gaming

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swindlersstole · 5 years

Text

SO. @exiledatrocity, i have no idea if you remember this:

but I remembered and I finally did it can I get a yeehaw

17. Under a bridge

This grove was way too lousy with little devils, Erik decided.

Truth be told, he’d decided that when they dealt with the first one in the chest, but while they hadn’t gotten any less annoying after that, they had at least stayed at the same level of threat—which was, to say, none at all. A nuisance, yes, but not the worst thing to happen to him and Nova all week, he thought.

Then one popped up riding on a cyclops’ shoulder.

This was a pretty common sight back in the forests of Sniflheim--trolls and ogres and the like hiding underneath bridges and underpasses waiting to get the drop on a hapless traveler was such a normal happenstance that it really only worked on people outside of the region. The locals knew all too well which areas to avoid, and Erik was no different. But it was a trend that didn’t seem to extend far beyond the Hekswood, so he’d never thought he’d have to worry about it until the day he went back.

If Erik had to make a guess, this was probably the fault of the devil. Little schemers, as the name suggested, it must have been smart enough to know there was power in numbers, and sensible enough to realize there was also power in being huge. It was certainly cackling like that was the case, laughing relentlessly at the puny humans unfortunate enough to cross their path.

In fact, it was laughing quite a bit. At his right, Nova gave Erik a very confused face, and Erik could only shrug back in turn. The cyclops seemed pretty weary of the situation, too.

The cackling didn’t seem to have any sign of stopping, and Erik cleared his throat. “Uhh… can we help you?”

“Kyaha--hrrm!” The devil snapped back to attention, posing as menacingly as it could on the troll’s shoulder. “You’ll be doing a lot more than that, chum! You lot are sneaking onto our territory, don’t you know.”

“No, we don’t.” Nova said, no less confused than he had been before. “We literally just walked over from the campsite.” The bundle of firewood they had collected for the night sat in his arms still as evidence. “You… definitely weren’t here five minutes ago.”

“Seriously. Were you stalking us, just waiting to get the drop?” Erik smirked. “Gotta say, that’s pretty lame of you. Following some strangers around just to toss a riddle on them.”

“Wha--a riddle?” Nova repeated, but went unanswered, because the little devil flung its fist around in a growing tantrum.

“How dare you! I was planning on taking your goods, but I’ve a right mind to clobber you senseless for that!”

The devil jumped up, and Erik’s hand darted for his dagger--but the cyclops was faster, and pushed the devil back on its shoulder with one smooshing of its big hand.

“Easy there, now.” The cyclops said, calm and steady. “We got ourselves a man a’ culture, ‘ere.”

The cyclops turned to look at Erik with a look of--what Erik assumed to be--newfound respect. “Y’know ‘bout the ol’ troll traditions, do ye’, guv?”

Still hesitant about the situation, Erik lowered his hand slowly. “About handing out riddles to travelers under bridges? Sure.”

“That’s… a thing?” Nova asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, it is. You don’t really see it this far south, though.” Erik crossed his arms. “Or from… well. From not a troll, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“No, right you are on that.” The cyclops seemed to take no offense, and beat at its chest once with its fist in pride. “Mum was a troll, though. Got th’ blood in me, I do.”

“Ah. Family tradition, then. I can respect that.” Erik nodded. “So, am I wrong in thinking that’s what we’ve been stopped for?”

“Well, it wasn’t ‘ntended. But, seein’ ‘as ‘ow yer in the know,” said the cyclops, almost sagely so, “I can’t rightly ignore th’ call. If you gents can answer a riddle, we’ll let ye by, no strings attached.”

“Really?” asked Nova, clearly relieved.

“What?!” shrieked the little devil, clearly ticked off.

“And if we can’t answer it,” Erik continued, with a raised brow, “we’ll have to go through the whole ‘grind our bones to make your bread’ song and dance, I take it?”

“Nah, just a regular ‘old up.” The cyclops waved away the clarification, like it was all just business as usual. “We did away wit’ the bones thing ages ago. Threw it out wit’ the bathwater when we unionized.”

“You unionized?” Color Erik surprised. And impressed. “Huh. Good for you.”

“Ex-cuuuse me!” The little devil looked more akin to a kettle left to boil, whistling up a storm. It tapped its heel against the cyclops’ shoulder to get its attention. “What do we look like, sphinxes?! We’re not running a bleedin’ brain teaser operation here!”

“Oi.” The cyclops narrowed its eye, voice still calm but laced with a threat. “It’s in me nature, it is. Can’t fight nature. An’ I ‘aven’t stopped you from playing yer dirty tricks up till now, now ‘ave I, mate? That’s your nature, innit?”

“Hrrrrgh...!” The devil grabbed at its horns in frustration. “At least make them… I don’t know, do something humiliating! You can’t just leave a chance like this be!”

The cyclops rolled its eye with a groan, before addressing Erik again. “Awful sorry ‘bout this, guv. You mind terribly answerin’ with an action, an’ not a word? ‘Fraid I won’t be ‘earin’ the end o’ this, otherwise.”

Erik and Nova glanced at one another, pity for this honorable cyclops on both their faces. Nova shrugged, and Erik ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, you’re being awfully considerate about it.” And the cyclops really was—easily within the Top Ten Monsters Erik Had Ever Met. “Wouldn’t be right if we started being picky now. Give us your best.”

The cyclops pounded its fist in his free hand, pleased by the answer. “Right, then. This should go down nice for everyone.”

It cleared its throat--and the guy really did seem pretty eager for this, Erik noted. Even monsters had itches to scratch, it seemed.

“‘Shared between two’,” the cyclops began, “‘Most often to woo. Sometimes hot and sometimes cold; the beginning of us all, young and old’.”

Out of the corner of Erik’s eye, Nova suddenly and very visibly tensed.

“Now, remember, to make this one ‘appy--” The cyclops gave the devil the side-eye, “--I’ll be needin’ ye to show me the answer. Not just say it.” It grumbled. “Really, dreadful sorry ‘bout it. Tried to give ye a nice one.”

“Oh, no trouble at all.” Erik said, swinging an arm over Nova’s shoulders, and noting all too clearly how he jumped from the contact. “Give us a minute to discuss.”

He turned them both away from the monstrous pair, and got a good look at Nova’s face. As Erik had suspected, he looked more frazzled than a simple riddle should have arguably left the Luminary, of all people. It didn’t bode too well.

“So. Judging from that face, you know the answer?”

Nova clutched at the firewood like a lifeline. “I--yeah, I do, actually. Do you?”

“Nope,” Erik said, “so how about you share the damage?”

For whatever reason, this very clearly did nothing to ease Nova’s nerves, and Erik swore he could probably hear how hard his heart was beating from the other end of the grove. “Are you… feeling alright?”

“It--ugh, cripes.” Nova brought a hand to his face, rubbing his temples. “I’m… fine. It’s nothing we can’t actually do, but it… there’s no getting around it, this is going to be awkward.”

“You’re beating around the bush, man.” He gave Nova’s shoulder a hearty pat. “Come on, spit it out.”

Nova made a strangled noise--and that got an excited gasp out of the devil, Erik heard--before his shoulders sank in defeat.

“Erik,” he said, “we have to kiss.”

Erik blinked. He slid his arm off Nova’s shoulders, hand coming to his chin, and he paused to consider this information.

“...Ohhh.” He said at last, understanding and unbothered, “‘Shared between two, most often to woo’... yeah, that does fit the bill, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it… yeah.” Nova lowered his head--the devil snickered not discreetly behind them at the sight--and he sighed. “So, you can see why this is a problem.”

“Not really, no.”

Nova snapped back up to look at him so fast, panic in his eyes and no color in his face, Erik was sure he heard his neck crack.

“You’re... okay with this?” He may as well have squeaked the word out. “You’re okay with this. How are you okay with this.”

“Hey, comparatively? That cyclops is on our side.” Erik shrugged. “It could have given us something way worse, or just skipped the formalities and come at us swinging. I’d say we got out pretty lucky.”

“Well… I guess, but—“

“Nova, come on.”

His hand fell back on Nova’s shoulder, and when Nova looked at him, he smiled. Erik hoped it was at least a little bit comforting; poor guy had way too much excitement in the past few days for just a simple country boy, and preferable as this riddle was to another fight they were too exhausted to handle, this might’ve been the last nail in the proverbial coffin for the Luminary.

“I got a plan, so just follow my lead. It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.” He squeezed Nova’s shoulder, and smirked. “You do trust me, right?”

Nova swallowed, but some color returned to his face--specifically in his cheeks, and probably not the color he would have wanted. It took some self-restraint on Erik’s part not to laugh; turned out Yggdrasil’s favorite little leaf was surprisingly (or perhaps fittingly?) chaste.

“I… of course I do, Erik.”

“Fantastic.” Probably not the wisest decision the Luminary could make, but it did do wonders for Erik’s ego. “Just relax, and let me handle it.”

He didn’t wait for an affirmation. Erik turned on his heel, back to face the monsters with confidence; Nova followed him in lockstep, anxiously clutching the firewood like a lifeline. “Hey! I think we got it all squared away.”

“Oh, we’ll be the judges of that!” The devil laughed, and the cyclops sighed in turn. At least the little demon was in on the bit now. “Go on, get to showing, then!”

“Man, you really have no sense of romance, do you?” Erik sighed. “Have it your way. Hold still a sec, Nova.”

That was not going to be a difficult request. Nova had planted his feet firmly on the ground, as it steeling himself for a hit, and when Erik brushed his left hand on Nova’s right cheek, he near well flinched at the touch. Erik couldn’t help the snicker that got out of him that time, and the glare Nova gave him was more akin to a pout; for his sake at least, Erik was glad his hand was blocking Nova’s face from the monsters.

Not that he couldn’t block much else about this, but. Price of the plan.

“Remember, just keep cool.” He muttered. “This’ll be over before you know it.”

“I… okay, but--” Nova whispered back, “But you still haven’t told me what y—”

Erik cut him off, swiping his right thumb on Nova’s lips, and pulled their faces to meet.

Nova made a noise, somewhere between a yelp and a muffled scream, and Erik had to imagine that he was making an expression to match, so it was a shame he had to miss it. Erik had closed his eyes once his lips had hit his thumb; one of them had to make this all believable, and that duty had long since fallen on his shoulders. Lucky for them he wasn’t half bad an actor.

To his credit, Nova was a fast learner. And if they’d had some time to prepare this plan in advance, he probably would have sold the act just as well. But they hadn’t had the time, and Nova went stock still in Erik’s hands, and his face and neck burnt against Erik’s fingers.

The fake kiss barely lasted a second--four, at the most, just to really make it convincing--and Erik pulled back with aplomb, and… yeah, Nova’s face looked just as alarmed and ready to combust as he’d imagined. Even his pupils had seemed to shrink from the shock. Erik wondered, idly, if this was how shypox got around so quickly. Could the Luminary even catch shypox? The chances seemed surprisingly high now.

Still calm and collected, he smiled at Nova with a raised brow, and patted his cheek once before walking back to their riddle assailants. “There. Happy now?”

The devil shrieked with raucous laughter, pointing and hollering at the two of them with unbridled joy. “Ohhhh, ho ho ho, that’s good! That’s good! His face, that’s so good! Oh, that’s gonna keep me going for a long while!”

“Glad t’ see ye’ve come around, mate.” The cyclops said, clearly relieved that its companion was satisfied. “All’s well, then, I’d say?”

“All’s very, very well!” The devil hopped off the cyclops, landing on the ground in a triumphant flip. “We’ll let you humans off easy now for giving us such a great laugh. But you’d better watch yourselves! We might not be so lenient next time!”

“Well, that’s mighty gracious of you.” Erik prodded along. “So thanks for that. I don’t think we’ll be forgetting anytime soon.”

The devil turned up its nose and puffed out its chest, thankfully unaware it was the butt of the joke. With a pleased hum, it turned an about face, and skipped off deeper into the grove.

The cyclops made move to follow its friend, but stopped before Erik, bending over to offer him its fist.

“Nicely done there, guv. Have t’ respect that kind o’ finesse.”

“I’m a tricky one.” Erik bumped his fist against the cyclops’; his hand barely covered one blue finger. “Can’t say I envy you with a partner like that, though.”

“Ah, s’alright. Fate’s got a funny way o’ workin’ out like that. Maybe he don’t got a fine head o’ hair like yers, but he’s a fine bloke when y’ get down to it.”

The cyclops pulled back its hand, large fingers unfurling into a point behind Erik. “Speakin’ of. Is he gonna be alright?”

Erik looked over his shoulder. Nova hadn’t budged even a bit since he’d stepped away, and looked like he was passing through sixteen different panic attacks--one for every birthday candle, Erik supposed, but still. It didn’t bode well for how settling down for sleep would inevitably go.

“...well,” said Erik, “he’ll snap out of it eventually.”

#panda does a write #he did snap out of it but it haunts him for the rest of the game #there was gonna be a part where it got into why erik knows how to do this #but i've been sitting on this one long enough as it is i need SOMETHING to get done this month

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lifeisafunnyplace · 6 years

Text

Waking up in a quiet house was unusual. Mornings were busy. His mother running around, yelling at Sehun to get him out of bed, dogs begging for food and his father yelling at them, Sehun complaining about everything he was given of work to do and their two youngest sisters yelling at everyone for being too noisy. It was good to be home, but also a relief to know it wasn’t a permanent thing.

When Chanyeol had blinked his eyes open enough to check the time, he almost jumped up from his pillow. It was mid-day already. He listened for any sounds, but it was completely quiet. Everyone were out working, he supposed. Maybe Sehun had told about last night? Of course he had. Chanyeol sighed. What could they be thinking of this?

With a frustrated grunt, he fell back down on his bed. Even if he was an adult, his mother was going to scold him for running in the forest at night. Besides, he had ruined clothes and made a mess at the kitchen. They were probably waiting for him to wake up from the intoxicated state he had been in the night before.

Right now everything felt like a swirl of memories mixing together with facts from his books and stories told when he was a kid. It was hard to make out what was real and what was not. Everything was blurry, except from sore muscles and stinging cuts. They were very much real feelings and testified how he indeed had been out running.

Being yelled at was not on his list for today though. Instead of waiting around for his parents, he packed a backpack, filled it with blankets, a lamp, drinks and food. He watched his books in the shelf for a good minute, but then grabbed as many as he could fit in his bag. He was going to stick to his plan. One last visit to the pond, and then the books would be gone. His final closure of this case. He had to move on, to grow up.

Carefully so that no one would notice him, he slid out the kitchen door and disappeared between buildings and trees. On the top of a hill, hid by shadows of large pine trees along the forest edge, he had his first stop. From his spot Chanyeol had a perfect view over the Byun-farm, and like expected, people were out working on the fields.

Soon his eyes fell on a familiar shape, a girl with golden wavy hair and fluttering skirts. Boys surrounded her and he spotted his brother as well. Chanyeol had a vague feeling of a promise given during the night. A lie told to get him to shut up and go to bed.

Even though Astrid seemed quite normal in daylight, something itched at the thought of her name. He didn’t trust her, and if she had been out there for real, if she was the hulder people told about, then she was dangerous.

No one would believe him, he knew. A hulder never showed her tail to humans, not unless her intentions were to lure him under and bring him back to her cave. That part scared him even more than Sehun meeting up with her in daylight. The more Chanyeol thought about it, the more he felt sure about having seen a tail in the moonlight the night before.

That’s why a last time decision had been to tuck a bible into the backpack as well. People of the underworld didn’t go to church and maybe it could protect him in any way, the way garlic protected you against vampires. Chanyeol rubbed his temple with his fingers, annoyed by his own stupid behaviour. He wasn’t supposed to believe in these stories, but at this point he didn’t trust anything or anyone.

When bored of watching working people out on the fields, he grabbed his stuff and let the forest swallow his silhouette, ducked under low branches, stayed out of the main path to avoid walking into anyone.

The rest of this nice summer’s day, he spent in the grass by the pond. Chanyeol felt prepared this time, had his books, a small lantern to light up the darkness and a blanket to keep him warm. He was here for the very last time and he was going to say goodbye. No one was going to scare him away, no running, no hallucinating or what the hell had been going on.

On the sky patterns made by white clouds changed as the sun travelled from south to west. Memories of a happy childhood flooded his mind and he welcomed it. Tonight he wasn’t going to push aside a single memory.

When he felt ready, he was going to throw away his books. Watch them float on the surface until soaked in muddy water and heavy enough to sink to the bottom and out of his life. When summer was over he was starting his career as a lawyer, he couldn’t bring this past with him. Tonight was the end, and the new beginning.

“You came back”

Chanyeol had drifted off to sleep for a moment and a melodious voice softly tickled his ears and made him open his eyes. Her smile was blinding as the lilies, her voice dancing over the water. His heart race doubled. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

On reflex he grabbed his lamp and his hands tightened around the handle. He still had no proof, he had to let her explain some more.

A white dress was floating around her bare feet and she didn’t even try to hide it, Chanyeol’s eyes drawn to the golden bundle of hair sticking out under her skirt. As she sat down, facing Chanyeol, she draped her tail over her thighs.

For a while they sat like that, Astrid threading her fingers through the soft hair in her lap, a beautiful and unfamiliar melody filling the air around them.

“You’re not getting to me! I won’t let you spellbind me with your voice and lies about him”

Chanyeol couldn’t take his eyes of her. Partly because she clearly was trying to pull him under her spell with her song, partly because he didn’t dare take his eyes off her. He was going to watch out for that tail, not giving her the chance to touch him.

“Have you made up your mind? Do you want to meet him again?”

Her voice was like feathers tickling his brain. He had to stay strong, keep focused. To have something to do he pulled out a book and threw it into the water.

“I’m leaving soon. I just had to finish this chapter”

With his eyes glued on the fury thing resting on her white skirt, he pulled out another book and let it follow the first one with a loud splash. Without looking, he knew it made rings spread on the surface.

“I was afraid you’d run again, that you didn’t believe me” Her voice just as soft, but with a sadness to it too.

“What is it to believe? I know what you are. I know what you do. Don’t use his name to lure me under” Anger started to simmer. She wasn’t giving up and either was he.

Astrid slowly stood up and sighed quietly. “That’s why I let him come along tonight anyway. Remind him he owes me”. With those words she turned around and dissolved in the fog between the trees.

Sounds of dry twigs breaking behind his back made him jump to his feet, still clutching the light in his hands, eyes trying to make sense of the shadow he could barely see between the old birches.

Chanyeol backed away from the shadow until he realized the pond was a step away. A young man with blonde hair blocked the way in front of him.

“Chanyeol?”

The voice gave him chills. Every single hair on his body stood up, made him shiver bodily. “Please don’t run” The boy was begging, his voice soft but sad.

Chanyeol grabbed his backpack, let his hand search for the bible while he held his eyes on the boy. “Don’t come near me!” He waved the small book in front of him, a weapon not useful for anything besides killing a couple of mosquitos.

“It’s okay, I’ll sit over here.” The boy slowly sat down, chin pushed against his chest and gaze on the ground.

“Who are you? Are you her?” Chanyeol’s first instinct had been to run, but he felt frozen in his spot, eyes glued on the small boy seated in front of him.

“You know who I am”

The blonde boy lifted his head and opened his eyes, let the taller see his ice blue gaze and warm smile. Chanyeol swallowed. It couldn’t be... Not a chance.

“Are you... are you his ghost?”

A familiar laughter filled the air, sneaked into his bones and made his blood bubble. It was the most beautiful laughter he knew, a laughter he hadn’t heard in ten years.

“Sit down, Chanyeol. Please. I just want to talk. I’ve missed you so much”

“Where have you been? Why are you here?” Making sure there were enough space between them, he lowered the lamp and sat down on his blanket. He felt his heart racing too fast, but he wasn’t going to run.

“Aaah... It’s not that easy. Well, I’m here to see you. And ten years is already too long.” A sad, yet familiar, pout on his face almost made Chanyeol believe him, almost. “I’m so sorry I left like I did. It wasn’t my choice. I was going to wait until autumn, but then they just grabbed me and brought me over. I guess I had avoided them for too long already.” He laughed a little at his own words.

“Who are /they/?”

“My people”

Sure, that made everything clear. Now everything made sense. No, it didn’t. Nothing in the entire world made sense anymore. Not Astrid, not this Baekhyun-like guy, not the past, not today, nothing. Nevertheless, he still couldn’t move away.

I felt like this guy, looking a bit too much like Baekhyun, was waiting for further questions. There were something calmly seen in his eyes, no hurry, Chanyeol took his time studying the other from top to toe. He was dressed like a normal human being, nothing smelled of magic or fairy tales. He really looked a lot like you could guess a 25-year old Baekhyun would look like.

Chanyeol searched for answers, an unknown number of questions rolled on his tongue, almost reaching the tip of it. They rolled back, one after another. One part of him wanted nothing more than to scoop closer and give the boy a hug. Another part, probably his brain, made him curl up on the blanket, arms closed tightly around his knees.

In one way it was a comfortable silence, gave him time to take in and proceed what was going on. Little by little, he felt his body relax more too. The blond boy seemed unfazed by the wall Chanyeol had put up in front of him, and calmly hummed to a melody. Chanyeol knew that voice. He had listened to it so many times. It was a bit darker, more mature, but he couldn’t be that wrong.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Chanyeol cleared his voice and waited. The boy looked up with the brightest smile on his face. “I never thought you were going to ask. Go on, ask me anything.”

“I guess I’m having a hard time believing you are.... You know....him?” It came out like a question, Chanyeol not yet ready to use his name. The questions he wanted to ask were questions only Baekhyun could know the answer too. About school, his cat, Sehun’s first kiss, moles on his back, favourite food and many, many more.

The boy, the one who started to feel more and more like his best friend, patiently answered every one of them. Some of them made them roll over from laugher, some of them left them quiet for minutes.

At one point their roles had been reversed. Suddenly it was Chanyeol who answered questions. Him who told about his parents, about staying in the city, about law school. They were being two friends catching up on the past, getting to know each other again.

“Okay, I have one final question” Chanyeol looked down on the hands that played with his. Elegant, soft fingers drawing patterns on his skin, the small mole on the left thumb.

“Mhm, go on”

“How did I get my first kiss?”

This was a question only Baekhyun would know the answer to. No one, not even Sehun, knew about that kiss. Tentatively he lifted his head to try read the others face. The spark of silver in the other’s eyes made him shiver. He had seen that spark before.

“Like this”

Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol over, hoovered over him with one hand on each side of his head and pushed their lips together. It was everything Chanyeol ever needed. It answered every question he had ever tried to answer over the years. It was impossible not to kiss back.

Taking advantage of his bigger body, he rolled them around in the grass, trapped Baekhyun under him, let his hands travel to the soft skin on his neck and cheeks. Lost in the moment he never noticed the soft tail curling around his waist, holding him close.

When they parted and sat up next to each other, Chanyeol knew he had found what he had been searching. He had finally found his best friend, the one he loved the most. He was here, he was alive, all flesh and blood and beautiful laughter. He didn’t know what their relationship would be like, but he was never letting go of his friend, ever again.

“Astrid told me you was leaving soon. It’s late. Where are you going to?” The smaller boy was looking up into the talker’s dark eyes, his delicate hands wrapped around Chanyeol’s larger fingers.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. I Can’t lose you again!” “Then don’t. Come with me.”

Baekhyun stood up, let the fluffy end of his tail brush over Chanyeol’s bare skin on his arm as he took a step backwards.

“People think you are dead, have been for 10 years. How to explain?” “You don’t.”

Baekhyun smiled his biggest blinding smile, the one brighter than the moon. Then he slowly turned around facing the pond. He held his hand out for Chanyeol to take.

“Come” With one word he dived into the pond.

A primal scream left Chanyeol’s throat, Baekhyun’s name echoing between the trees. He watched the rings in the water grow bigger for a moment. No! This was not history repeating itself. Baekhyun was not disappearing again. Not like this. He kicked off his shoes, took a deep breath and dived in too.

#exo #chanbaek #exo fanfiction #chanbaek fic #supernatural #supernatural creatures #baekyeol fic

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butiaintgonnaloveem · 7 years

Text

Good Riddance

Pairing/Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, others

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Language, teasing, fluff, sass, AU

A/N: Here’s my Coffee Shop AU with Barista!Sam for @luci-in-trenchcoats Michelle’s AU & Things Challenge. This was fun, but I don’t know how to summarize without giving too much away. Enjoy some tattooed Sam and Tattoo Artist Dean with plenty of coffee. Many thanks to my pal @idreamofhazel for the beta read on this one. I hope you enjoy it!

*Don’t forget, I love feedback and constructive criticism!!

Walking into the coffee shop, you take a deep breath when the scent of freshly roasted coffee hits you. A quick glance behind the counter confirms that he’s there, and your mouths curves against your best efforts into a restrained smile.

“Good morning, Sam,” your voice turns into a shy drawl.

“Morning!” he calls from behind the espresso machine. “I’ve got a good one for you today.”

“Oh really?”

“Yup,” he flashes you a teasing smirk before going back to watching his work. His hair hangs loose around his jaw, the ends curling just a bit. Your eyes are drawn, as always, to the vivid designs that creep up his shirtsleeves and out of his low collar.

The way your morning routine goes, you’re able to miss the daily rush of people and get to enjoy the few minutes of interaction with the people at the shop. All of them friendly and incredibly enthusiastic about coffee, but Sam is your particular favorite.

You’re drawn from your ogling when you notice him reach over for a lid for your drink, and the muscles surrounding your lips strain while you try to fight your smile as you wait for him to hand it over.

“I’m telling you, this is the one,” he says.

“We’ll see. You’re lucky I love coffee because you’ve said that before.” You grab the drink, holding eye contact with him for an extra few seconds before you straighten your shoulders to leave. “Thanks, Sam.”

His grin grows and you turn away, walking out the door before you lift the cup to eye level, reading the side ‘DANGER - It’s my middle name.’

Your nose crinkles as you snort a shoulder-curving laugh. You turn with a big toothy smile back to the window, looking at Sam through the glass. Closing your mouth, without successfully hiding your smile you shake your head ‘No’ while he puts his hands up in a shrug before moving one of them in a quick wave. Your hand bobs a bit as you wave back, still chuckling.

Your smile softens, but doesn’t quite disappear by the time you make it to work yourself, your coworker shakes her head as you settle in.

“You should stop flirting with him and get him on a date.”

“What?”

“Coffee man.”

“Sam? What? No. It-it’s just fun.” You squint and shrug her off.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, rolling her eyes, “So, what did he come up with today?”

Again, the self-satisfied smile appears while you flush with embarrassment, words tripping out of your mouth, “Uhm, uh ‘Danger’.”

“Danger?” You hold up the paper cup to allow her to read it. She pouts and nods, “Cute.”

“Yeah, way better than ‘bandana’ and what was the other one?” You ask, snapping your fingers together to pull up the memory.

“Oh, remember ‘antidandruff’?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” you chuckle, “He’s trying, though.”

Pulling open the door, you suck in the coffee scent, eyes drifting to the counter, but not quite making it before someone calls your name. Following the voice, you find Sam, huddled at one of the cafe tables with another guy that you don’t recognize and a few cups of coffee spread out on the table between them. He beckons you over once you acknowledge him.

“Well, this is weird. You off today?” You stop at the edge of the table, lingering next to the chair, uncertain whether or not to sit.

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do today with my brother,” he gestures to the guy next to him.

He lifts his cup as a hello. “I’m Dean, the older and better brother.” You stand there and nod, looking him over - just as tattooed as Sam, but a little more gruffness to him.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam kicks him under the table, “I got your drink for you already.” He picks up one of the cups, holding it out for you to grab it. Again, it takes you an extra few seconds to catch up with him.

“Oh, uhm thanks.”

“My pleasure, so, danger doesn’t work for you?”

Finally, your face cracks into a smile, “Not so much.”

“Hmmm, okay,” he drops his gaze, giving you a quick one-over, “Are you an Elton John fan?”

You pinch your lips tight, as a very graceful snort escapes while you try not to spit your drink out at him. “What?!”

“Tiny Dancer?” Even with the healthy layer of scruff, his dimples pop, making you itch to squeeze him because he’s too much in a single bundle.

“Wow, that’s just terrible-”

“Ohhh,” Dean interrupts, “Is this her?”

Sam’s eyes narrow in a glare, “Shut up, Dean.”

You turn and glance between them, waiting for some kind of scuffle

“Well, that sounds like a yes. I don’t think she likes Tiny Dancer. Oh! How about Tony Danza?” Dean teases, lines forming by his eyes as he smirks.

You shake your head at them, “I never should have told you, and now your brother’s in on it too? So much no, and before you try it, I’ll also go ahead and reject Dance Like Nobody's Watching.”

“You can dance for me like nobody's watching,” Dean mutters. Your face opens in surprise at his words. Again, Sam sends a tight-lipped glare his way along with another kick under the table. “Okay, jeez Sammy, lighten up. By the way, whenever you’re ready to take care of it, let Sam know and I’ll do it myself.”

“Really?” you question, hopefully.

“O’course, I’m the best damn artist in the state, can’t have my brother’s girl- ooof -” he hunches over slightly, jaw clenching as he swallows the pain. A tight, and forced, smile graces his face, “I mean, any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine.”

“Well, thanks.” You curl your lips in, biting them as you imagine how the sentence might have finished.

“Yeah, this is all Dean’s work,” Sam flexes his arms, twisting them to show off a bit. “Today, he’s finishing a portrait for me.”

“Portrait of who?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink.

“Jessie,” Dean answers, “Sam has this gorgeous picture of her, with the sun making her hair this beautiful gold color I’m excited to work on - “

“Wow, really? Sounds really...beautiful,” the lump that quickly formed in your throat makes it hard to speak, but you don’t want to hear anything else about this Jessie. “Sorry. Love the coffee, but I gotta run, have a good one guys.”

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but you dart out the door, not looking back or hearing whether or not they’ve said goodbye.

Tears don’t quite form, but the hurt is evident in your expression when you get to work.

“What happened?” your coworker asks, immediately ignoring her task.

“Nothing,” you sniffle, “It’s stupid.”

“Sam? Did he say something?” She holds your biceps, keeping you from turning away.

You groan, “Aughh, I know I’m not really one to talk, but I found out he’s getting a portrait done. Her name’s Jessie and she’s beautiful, and has gorgeous golden hair, and I just had to leave because that - sucks,” you roll your eyes as you finish, annoyed by your own jealousy.

You looks defeated for you, “I’m sorry, hun.” Her hands rub up and down your arms to soothe you.

“It’s okay, it was just a crush anyway.”

“Morning, Sam,” you politely smile, controlling yourself from letting your eyes roam as he wears the hell out of that red and black plaid shirt.

“Hey! Got a question for you,” he smiles as he slowly pushes your drink across the counter. You tilt your head to prompt him. “What’s your sign?”

Your hand smacks your cheek then drags down your face in second-hand embarrassment for him, “Oh no, Sam, really?”

“Come on, it’s a good one today.” He juts his chin at your cup. You lift it to see he’s drawn a picture of a crab with the word ‘DECAPODAN’ next to it. “Could work if you fall under the Cancer sign.”

“First. No. Second, I’m not even sure that’s a real word, but I appreciate the effort. See you later.” You smile politely again, not missing the confusion that flashes across his face.

“Sure, see ya,” he quietly calls after you.

He continues to try. Day after day goes by with the usual pleasantries and more and more words on your cups, though it doesn’t bring the same joy as before.

“Good morning!” Sam sing-songs as soon as you walk into the shop.

“Hey,” you breathe out softly.

“What’s wrong?” His forehead lines with wrinkles as he looks you over.

“Nothing, just the usual today, please?”

He passes it across the counter, ready for you before you’d gotten there, “I really think today’s the day. It’s a good one.” He timidly smiles and nods at the cup as you grab it.

“Don’t waste your time, I’ll figure out something else.” You keep focused on the floor, noting the scuff marks on the toes of your shoes.

“What? Why?” he asks, voice going high.

“Just...cause. This is a bit inappropriate and you don’t need to worry about it. It’s stupid.” You sneak a glance, catching him swallowing nervously before shifting back to a small smile.

“But, I still have so many more to try. There’s, uh, there’s danish, and sedan, and - and fandango, and abundant -”

“It’s okay, really. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, and other-other people to worry about.” You start to march out the door, stopping when you hear the crash behind you. Turning back, you find Sam standing next to the broken napkin dispenser and a mess of cups rolling around on the floor, chest a little huffy from jumping across the counter. “Shit, Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah - I mean, no, but what’s wrong? I’m sorry if I said something -” His hands pull through his hair with obvious frustration.

“It’s okay, Sam. I brought it on myself. I’d make fun of me, too, but it’s not fun for me anymore.”

“Why? What did I say?” He moves to reach for you, but you jerk away, flinging coffee from your cup and onto your shirt and the floor. The flash of burning pain sends you over the edge, ripping all politeness from your tone.

“It’s because of Jessie, okay? Because I’m hurt and mad you never mentioned her. And you know what?” you start to hiss through clenched teeth, “It’s a little hypocritical of you to tease me, when you go and get some girl’s picture tattooed on you!”

His face goes long as his jaw drops, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ for a few seconds until the corners start to twitch. His teeth appear as his smile forms, fits of laughter escaping from him as the stiffness leaves his shoulders.

“You’re a jerk,” you spit at him, twirling away.

“No! No, hang on!” He snags your arm, pulling more coffee from the lip of your cup which thankfully misses you this time. You focus on the droplets on the floor, watching the milky bubbles pop while you avoid eye contact with Sam. “I was never making fun of you and I’m not a hypocrite.”

He bends to roll up a pant leg, slowly revealing a fresh tattoo on his calf. ‘Jessie’ in a lovely font, her golden hair somehow shining on his skin, her head tilted in a playfully curious expression, her floppy ears perked up, and tongue slightly hanging from her snout.

If anger hadn’t been boiling in your body, you might have reacted better, but tears spring to your eyes as you half cry, and cough out a laugh. “Jessie’s a fucking dog?”

“Ye-heah,” Sam lightly chuckles. “She was the best dog I ever had,” he lets the fabric fall back, standing tall again. “I was never making fun of you, I was trying to have fun with you and was hoping to ask you out at some point.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, shoulders lifting in a shrug as he stands there, waiting for you to respond.

Two months later, Sam walks with you hand-in-hand into the tattoo parlor.

“Well well well,” Dean says as he stands, wiping his hands on his thighs. “Today’s the day?”

“Yeah, you came up with the perfect design, Dean, thank you.”

He tries to play it off cocky, but you see the way he almost hides his face in his shoulder that he’s flattered, “No problem, darlin’. Now, let’s get you all set and you can tell me how you ended up with that in the first place.”

“Not much to tell,” you say, pulling off your overshirt and turning your back to Dean so he can see it. “I was young, had a few drinks, and thought I was in love.”

He takes a finger, pulling down the back of your tank and the band of your bra, “Wow. That’s it? It really just says ‘DAN’ right in the middle of your back? You didn’t even give him a ‘forever’ to go with it.” He laughs from deep in his chest.

“Last chance for Tony Danza. Dean would be happy to do it,” Sam whispers in your ear.

“Still better than decapodan.” You smile, turning and nuzzling against him. “You smell like coffee.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you shake your head before you sigh, “You know I love coffee.”

TAGS!

ALL THE THINGS TAGS: @mogaruke @feelmyroarrrr @kayteonline @seenashwrite @notnaturalanahi @attractiverandomness @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @babypieandwhiskey @brewsthespirit-blog @mysaintsasinner @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @bringmesomepie @sharingan-rasengan-chidori @mandilion76 @muliermalefici @doctorboo82 @boxywrites @essie1876 @sherrybaby14 @emmysthougts @sylverminx @someday-once

Tagging for possible interest: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @the-chaos-and-the-calm @dancingalone21 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @4401lnc @ilsawasanacrobat @anotherwinchesterfangirl @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @nostalgic-uncertainty @ravyn15 @fallen-castiel @sadmac356 @hennessy0274-blog @xfanqirlinq @wellcrazythis @dirtchic219 @classy-sassyandsmartassy @there-must-be-a-lock @jared-padaloveme @ellaspoltergeist @authoressskr @nellycakess @abbessolute @goldenolaf25 @zidajane777 @faegal04 @emilywritesaboutdean @queenindecisive @barbedwireandbubblegum @gryffindorable713 @sofreddie

I’m sure I could tag more, but I just don’t feel like sorting through lists right now and I don’t have a Sam tag list. Wanna be tagged? Send me an ask!

#michelle's au & things challenge #sam x reader #sam winchester au #sam winchester fanfiction #tattoed!sam #barista!sam #coffee shop au #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #spn fluff #spn crack #supernatural au #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester fluff

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blossom-hwa · 7 years

Text

Run |2| - YUTA

I completed the story?? I don’t know how?? It’s probably really rushed bc I’m not used to writing action/romance stories but here’s part 2; part 3 and the epilogue will be out soon as well!

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Genre: action, angst, gang!au

Triggers: violence, somewhat graphic?

Word Count: 1.7k

Your gang is dead and only one person knows you’re alive. Since you know nothing but the gang world, you turn to working for those who killed your family. It doesn’t really bother you, but your identity gets found out by the wrong person on one of your... excursions.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

NCT Masterlist

You are covered in dirt, sweat, and blood by the time you arrive at the small place you share with Taeyong, having lost all your pursuers. Another bullet is lodged into your left arm, and all three wounds are still streaming blood.

“Y/N-” Taeyong stops short in the living room as he takes in the mess that is you. “Oh, hell, what happened?” He grabs your wrist and sits you on the couch, not waiting for an answer. You collapse onto the softness gratefully, and he goes into the bathroom, coming out with a first-aid kit.

“The Nakamotos know I’m alive,” you say hoarsely as Taeyong cleans your wounds. He stops for a moment, squeezing your arm a little harder, then goes back to cleaning.

“How? Actually, you know what, don’t answer. Let me finish, then you’re going to sleep. You can tell me everything tomorrow.” Taeyong sighs, wrapping your leg wound with clean, white bandages. You nod, too exhausted to argue.

Taeyong finishes after a couple hours (you think), and then you fall into fitful sleep on the now-bloodstained couch.

. . . . .

Yuta sits on a wooden table, gritting his teeth as someone cleans the knife wound in his thigh.

“So you thought you could take care of her on your own?” his father asks, scrutinizing his son with cold eyes. Yuta nods, his eyes closed.

A snort sounds in the silent room. “And I thought you could too. How did she get away, again? Through the window? You think she could be alive?”

Yuta nods again, opening his eyes. “It was only a three-story jump. Also, she was trained to get out of situations like that. She was part of the Lee syndicate, the one that crumbled years ago.”

Aito, his father, is silent for a moment. Then his laugh fills the room, a chilling sound. “I thought the only living member of the syndicate was the prodigy, Taeyong.”

Yuta shakes his head. “I remember her face. She’s obviously older, but still very much alive.”

“Name?”

“Y/N.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t come earlier for revenge,” Aito muses thoughtfully. Yuta snorts. “Y/N was never stupid. She wasn’t here for revenge.”

“She took the painting… you mean she’s the paid thief we’ve been hearing about? Shadow?” Aito’s voice is full of disbelief, but his son nods yet again. “I’m almost sure of it.”

“So what do we do with this information?” Seojun, Aito’s right-hand man, finally speaks up. His eyes are bright, flickering with eagerness at the possibility of a chase.

Whoever is working on Yuta’s leg finishes, sterile white bandaging covering the gash. He stands up, ignoring the pain. “We could have her work for us. We know who she is, and if she doesn’t agree, we can just expose her. A lot of other gangs have bad blood with her former one.” The tired, angry look in his eyes is replaced with a cold, eager expression. A small smile twists his mouth.

Seojun looks put out, but he nods. “That is a good idea.”

Aito looks at his son, eyebrows raised. “So how about I delegate the task of finding her to you, son? I hear she is extremely difficult to track down. Don’t fail this time.” He gets up and leaves the room, leaving his son gnashing his teeth in the living room.

. . . . .

“You stuck a knife in Yuta Nakamoto’s leg? This is priceless,” Taeyong chortles, about to fall off his chair. You allow yourself to feel a small stab of pride before punching Taeyong’s arm, forcing him to sit up properly. “Yes, I did. Moving on. The window was made of like, really strong glass or something, so I ran out bullets trying to shoot it. My scarf fell off, so he saw my face. I eventually smashed the window but the bastard called in help so I got two bullets in me before I jumped out. Then when I was running, I got shot in the arm. Done.”

Taeyong whistles. “Wild night. What do you suppose Nakamoto’s going to do with that information?” You sigh. “Blackmail me. Kill me. Who knows?”

“Then would you work for him if he blackmailed you?” You shrug. “I don’t know. Depends on what he’d make me do.”

“Fair enough.” Taeyong sighs, standing up. “I’ll go get you some food. I have things to do tonight so do whatever you want.”

‘Things to do’ usually means assassin business. You don’t ask for details.

. . . . .

After Taeyong leaves, you find yourself restless, impatient with your wounds and what little they let you do. Out of annoyance, you make the rash decision to go out on a walk.

It’s cold, so you bundle up but not too much. A scarf still covers your face, and you put on a pair of fake glasses. A gun and knife are hidden within the clothing.

More precautions.

You wander around the area where you live for a couple hours before deciding to head back. Taeyong must be finished, so he can take another look at your leg. It really hurts.

You are about twenty minutes away from your home when someone grabs your arm, forcing you into a narrow alley. Your glasses fall off and you hiss in pain, your hand itching to go for one of your weapons. You still, though, when a gun is placed to your head.

“Didn’t think it’d be so easy to find you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, despite your fear of the man. “Didn’t think I’d see you this soon, Yuta. Anyway, aren’t you going to kill me now? Get on with it.”

He laughs. “Nah, I’m not going to kill you. Though it’d be nice to get revenge for what you did to my leg.”

“For the record, your gang members shot me three times- the shoulder, the arm, the calf. I don’t think you should be complaining.” You are probably getting yourself closer and closer to death, but you can’t help it.

“Cool. Hope they hurt. Anyway, like I said, I’m not going to kill you unless you try something stupid. I’m here to offer you a deal.”

Blackmail, then.

“Probably more like blackmail,” you mutter. Yuta hears this and laughs. “Yeah, I guess. So here’s the deal: you work for us or we let out your identity. Your choice.”

“What work would I be doing, then?” you ask, slumping against the wall. Yuta grabs your arm, hauling you upright again. “Hang in there, Princess. And stuff you already do. Stealing. Getting information. Hacking. Maybe killing.”

Your eyes narrow at the word ‘killing.’ “I don’t kill,” you say, all the teasing gone from your tone.

Yuta cocks an eyebrow at this. “You don’t? Then who gets rid of the witnesses?”

You swallow. “A friend.”

Surprisingly, Yuta doesn’t pry. “Well, I could take out the killing part. What about that?”

You eye him distrustingly. “Why do you want me to work for you so much?” you ask.

He looks you in the eye, finally lowering the gun. “You’re interesting. Not many girls I know would do dirty work themselves, much less roundhouse kick a boy in the head. Or jump out a window three stories high and live. I want to see more,” he says. You snort. “Interesting my ass. Whatever. Do you need this in writing or some shit? Can I go now?”

Yuta lets go of your arm. “Yeah, leave. Just come here again tomorrow. I’ll take you to my house.”

“Unnecessary. I know where it is.” You walk out of the alley, popping your head back in after a couple of seconds. “Thanks for the gun, by the way.” You wave the gun you managed to nick out of Yuta’s hand at him teasingly and vanish.

In the darkness of the alley, Yuta grins to himself.

Interesting.

. . . . .

The first few days of working for the Nakamotos are pretty bad. You aren’t used to taking orders for everything you do from people, after all. When someone hired you before, you did all the research on your own beforehand, forged all the needed documents, and essentially were on your own.

You’re still chafing under the watchful eye of Aito Nakamoto five months later. After a yelling match that probably almost brought down the whole house, you managed to get it through his head that you were going to keep hiring yourself out to others. He wasn’t happy, to say the least, but you’d gone up against gang leaders more pushy than he.

Yuta comes around probably way too often. He’s decent company when he’s quiet, but a. you’re pretty sure Aito isn’t happy about it all, and b. Yuta likes to poke around and ruin things, which are both traits you dislike. Sometimes he comes in with a wound or something and asks you to clean it up for him instead of going to someone more qualified.

He manages to grow on you though, despite him being the cold-blooded snake that caused you to get three bullets in your body. It’s strange. The cold stare he usually wears doesn’t show itself much when he’s around you, and you find yourself less guarded around him as well.

Still, you’re surprised and more than a little repulsed when Yuta comes stumbling into your little office, covered head to toe in dried blood.

“What the fuck” is all you get out before he collapses on a small spare chair. “Nakamoto, get up! Why’re you in here?!” Yuta only groans in response.

Sighing, you get to work cleaning up the blood.

When you’re nearly finished, he finally talks. “Thanks.”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Why are you in here, of all places? Don’t you have someone that can take care of you better than me? And why were you covered in blood?”

“Closest place I could find. Yes, but they’re annoying. Mission.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out and get some rest, Nakamoto. My tiny office isn’t good enough. Plus, I’ve got business in a few hours so I need to leave.” Yuta whines. “Get out.”

“Fine. But take me to my room,” he bargains. You groan. “Oh my God, fine.”

#nctwriters #smtownnetwork #kpop #nct #nct 127 #yuta #action #angst #slight fluff #triggers #violence #gang!au #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct yuta scenarios #run #scriptura-delirus

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toddcowardd · 7 years

Text

All on the Wrist (part one)

Rating: G

Pairing: Probst Wyatt x (female)Reader

Warnings: None, some ocs

A/N: My first soulmate fic! i have no idea what im doing!!!! this will be multipart tho! This first chapter is mostly set up

When you were younger, the thought of a soulmate excited you. Before the war, before the world went to hell, you’d always look down to you right arm fondly. Waiting for the day when the name would appear.

I happened when you were 17.

You were walking to school and feeling a weird burning sensation on your wrist. I was hard to ignore but, you powered through right until you got to your locker. Two of the girls you befriended back then gathered at you locker as you tossed you books into in. One of them, Anabelle, was frantically babbling about some conspiracy involving soldiers being revived as zombies to fight the allies in Europe. The other, Marie, simply stared at her in an annoyed concern.

“Anabelle Drew you are absolutely bonkers!” Marie huffs “You need to stop watching propaganda and monster movies back to back! It’s not healthy! [Y/n] and I are going the malt shop tonight and I think you should come with us instead of watching those vile films.”

You slam you locker shut. The burning sensation on your wrist just became terribly itchy. ‘it’s probably a bug bite’ you think to yourself while you absent mindedly starch it under the sleeve of your sweater.

“Fine.” Ann says. Marie gives her a satisfied grin as you three walk over to your class.

As you walked, you notice something on your wrist out the corner of your eye. Hesitantly, you push away the sleeve of the sweater, holding up your wrist you examine the elegant black lettering that has appeared on your wrist.

Probst Wyatt III

You brush your fingers against the name with a small smile before quickly hiding it from the other girls before they noticed. You weren’t sure why your soulmate’s name appearing made you feel so happy. For all you know he could have another girl or guy, be a huge cad, would be dead before you’ve met him or worse. Not many people stay with or even meet their soulmates, it was all so dumb to you. Yet despite all that could go wrong, especially in today’s world, the sight of their name made you bubble with happiness.

Wyatt was a bundle of nerves. There was a large amount of tension in the air as he looked to the other soldiers. The plane was silent sans the loud rumbling of the engine. No one dared to talk. There was really nothing to say. Everyone on the plane knew that if this mission failed then the war is lost.

He was just barely 18 and the fate of the world rested on his- and the rest of his squadron’s- shoulders. Wyatt sighed quietly to himself, as if the stress from the mission wasn’t bad enough, he was also enduring the flight over with a strange itch on his left wrist.

He absent mindedly pulls back the sleeve of his uniform to examine it. A shocked gasp escapes him when he catches sight of your name neatly printed across his wrist.

“Gosh almighty, out of all the days for this to happen!” he turns to the soldier next to him, holding up his wrist. “Look!”

“Congrats” the soldier mumbles, glancing to his wrist before looking back to the wall “Better hope you make it out alive to find her.”

Wyatt grins “I hope I do. What do you suppose she’s like?”

The soldier shrugs. “Everything you want her to be and more.”

Wyatt chuckles while look at his wrist. He was never too big into the soulmate stuff. If it happened to him then it happened and if not… well then that wasn’t the end of the world for him! He runs his thumb gently over your name, gazing at it lovingly. He could feel some of his nerves fade away, he had no idea who you were and yet your name just gave him more motivation to succeed on this mission.

“I bet she’s a wonderful gal”

“You never know til you meet her, so better hope you don’t die.”

Wyatt laughs again, “I don’t plan to-“

Their conversation was cut off by a sudden jolt from the plane. A loud explosion echos from the outside while the plane jolts around some more.

“BRACE YOURSELVES, WE’RE UNDER FIRE!” The pilot shouts back to them. There was another loud blast as the plane shoots down towards the ocean bellow. A rush of adrenaline course through him as Wyatt springs up from his seat, running through the haze of smoke that clouded the plane towards the cockpit. He looks to the deceased captain, pulling him out the chair and grabbing his headset. Gosh, he’s never flown before but, that wasn’t going to stop him from trying right now.

“Condor Nine! Come in, come in Condor Nine!” A raspy, Scottish voice shouts through the headset

“This is Condor… Nine!” Wyatt shouts back into the mic, pushing it onto his head.

“Who’s this?!” The voice replies in shock

“Private Wyatt, sir!” He stumbles into pilot’s seat. “United States Airforce!”

as usual i apologize for typos and grammar errors

Tagging: @paperclipmac @madelyne-pryor @dicckgrayson

(If you wanna be tagged in future parts then just ask me :D)

#probst wyatt x reader #my fics #my stuff #probst wyatt #soulmate au #the title is subject to change

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xyliane · 8 years

Text

flower spotting

summary: killua starts adjusting to staying out of the game. that game being not being shot at on a regular basis. gon tries his best to help, but his game is just as if not weirder--not least because it involves flowers and safehouses being of equal importance. killugon + alluka, 2000 words, flower crowns.

notes: I heard it was @sketchxhunter appreciation day! I’m sorry this took so long. there was a demand for flower crowns and dangit, FLOWER CROWNS WILL BE HAD. (also if anyone’s interested in flower meanings: gardenias, stargazer lilies, peruvian lilies). about three or four days after guns and roses part one (SKETCH THIS NAME IS PERFECT)

----

Killua hadn’t realized just how long it’s been since he had a proper spotter. Most of the time, when he was working for his family at least, it was easier just to work alone, trying to choose a place so well hidden that even if he didn’t catch an intruder early, he’d still have enough time to book it from wherever he’d set up to snipe or scope. Protected space, vantage points, and cover—the three key elements for optimal guard.

It’s a glaring issue with staying here at the flower shop. There are no truly isolated or hidden spaces, least of all in the best places to set up a rifle and stay on watch. This roof is alright, but Killua has to stay under a spare tarp, keeping hidden against the sun and any prying eyes that might recognize the glare of a rifle. That Gon has a sniper rifle at all is incongruous with the flower shop’s appearance in general—but then again, most things about Gon are incongruous anyways.

Killua finds himself not minding this all that much. Weird, that they’ve barely known each other, but Killua doesn’t mind spending hours with the other man, sometimes talking but sometimes just in comfortable silence. On the rare occasion he worked with another person, it was still hard to relax with just anyone watching his back—and after last week, Killua had thought he’d never feel at ease with anyone at all keeping an eye out for him. Alluka (and Nanika, when she’s not asleep in the back of her sister’s head) is alright at keeping an eye out for threats, but she doesn’t have the experience that comes from a life of living in and around people who bleed danger and nerves. People like Killua. People like Gon.

Running a flower shop kind of ruins the “bleeding danger and nerves” part of being affiliated with the mob, at least until Killua remembers the utter ease that Gon handles guns, and knives, and an entire cabinet in the back room labeled with no apparent irony, “Not Murderous Yet.” In the past few days, Killua has seen him shoot three people, knife a fourth, and inform a duo of black suited assassins that under no circumstances were they to trespass on his property again if they did not want to be turned into compost. It’s bad enough that Killua’s been stuck doing nothing until the hole in his side heals, but watching Gon Freecss shrug off threats like rainwater is…distracting.

Even if he’s currently “spotting” by organizing bunches of flowers into messy bouquets, dark brown skin freckling in the afternoon sunlight and brown eyes glimmering with flecks of green and gold. His hands, strong and calloused, weave together colors and smells with more grace than Killua would have expected, carefully depositing each new bundle in vases scattered around the roof with a small but brilliant smile.

That’s distracting, too.

Gon glances up from his work and grins. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the street?” he asks. Another bundle of purple and yellow flowers finds its way into a spindly ceramic vase. “You said you wanted an extra set of eyes while Alluka watches the shop for me.”

Killua huffs. “I am. It’s not like anyone’s stupid enough to try something on a flower shop in the middle of the day. Not if no one knows we’re here.” At least, no one that wants to kill them. Other than Kurapika and Melody, there’s some doctor named Leorio, who as far as Killua is concerned is an absolute idiot when he’s not practicing medicine. Why Gon and Kurapika trust him so much is a mystery, but Alluka seems to like him. But to the rest of the world, he and Alluka may as well have dropped off the face of the earth in that rainstorm.

Let the rest of the family think he’s dead. Maybe he’ll be able to let Alluka and Nanika live a little before they move on.

Gon’s grin widens, and he nods in the direction of the street. “Then you saw those girls getting out of a sedan with enough hardware for the whole block?”

Gon’s probably screwing with him, but just in case, Killua whips his head back to the rifle’s scope. It makes his wound twinge, a flash of pain that should probably make him pass out but is mostly just annoying. Indeed, there are girls, who are getting out of a sedan, who are carrying a terrifying amount of computer parts between the two of them.

He rolls back over to glare at the asshole that he’d thought was his friend, and feels something drop onto his head. He shakes his head once, and a ring of sweet smelling flowers falls in front of his eyes. “What…?”

“They’re gardenias!” Gon says, pulling out a small bundle of white and yellow flowers. “I had some extras, so I thought I’d make you something. Do you like it?”

Killua reaches up and gently touches the blossoms nesting in his curls—yes, those are definitely flowers, and they are definitely woven together. He made a…flower crown.

For Killua.

Not for the first time, Killua wonders about just how weird Gon Freecss is, how he manages to be so strange and so familiar all at once, how comfortable it is to be around him. They’ve known each other for less than a week, and Killua already trusts him to watch his back, to watch for his sisters. They barely know anything about each other, and now he’s making flower crowns.

“Why gardenias?” Killua blurts out.

For some reason, that makes Gon flush a little and focus on the flowers he’s holding. “I thought they were pretty. Like you, Killua!”

Killua rolls his eyes and settles back against the rifle, leaving it under the tarp so suspecting eyes won’t notice the glare. They’d just see two guys talking on a roof with a bunch of flowers. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why? It’s true.”

Now it’s Killua’s turn to blush. “I kill people for a living.”

“So do I, sometimes,” Gon says, easy as can be. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not pretty.”

Killua starts to splutter—internationally feared assassins aren’t pretty, dammit—but the roof door opens and Alluka pokes her head through. “Gon? There’s a customer here.”

“Customer or client?” he asks.

Alluka shrugs, beads in her hair clacking together. The bags under her eyes are mostly gone, although her cheeks are still far paler than Killua would like them to be. Not that he’s much better, but he’s used to it. “I think they might be both,” she says. “They didn’t recognize me, at least.”

Gon sighs but stands anyways, dusting his shorts off. Spare leaves and flower petals scatter around him, some sticking to his clothes and mismatching the bits that have already tangled in his hair. “I should check,” he says by way of apology, as though he has anything to apologize for. “But before I go, Alluka, I made this for you!”

Gon’s not actually taller than her, not without the spikes of his hair, but he manages to surprise her with a flower crown of her own as he passes into the stairwell, bright smile matched with a dawning one of hers. A crown of pink and white lilies, some flecked with yellow, nestles in her black hair, a sharp contrast from the drab skirts and blouses she’s been forced to wear since they started running. Her entire face lights up, and Killua feels her laugh straight through his chest in a stream of bubbling joy.

And then Gon smiles at him, and that stream turns into a roaring flood wooshing through his ears.

“I’ll be right back,” Gon says, and vanishes into the stairwell faster than Killua can track him.

Alluka glances at the door, then back to her brother, a grin on her face that says far too much for Killua to think about at this moment. “He’s right, you know,” she says as she takes Gon’s seat, teasing apart one of the bouquets. “You are pretty.”

“You’re my sister and I love you, so I won’t push you off the roof.”

She crosses her ankles, boots tapping against the roof as she rearranges the blossoms by color and size across her lap. “I’m not the one who already took a nosedive off a roof this week,” she says.

Killua snorts. “That’s not even close to the worst thing that’s happened to me,” he says. The hole in his side twinges as though trying to argue the point, and Killua resists the urge to itch at the bandages.

She tugs too tightly at a sunflower, its petals crumpling in her hands. “Brother, I—”

It hurts to stand. It really hurts to walk. The painkillers must be wearing off—hopefully there’s more powerful stuff in the Not Murderous Yet cabinet. But Killua drags himself over to Alluka so he can hug her. She carefully avoids hitting any of his injuries when she squeezes back. Killua tugs the sunflower out of her hands, a few more yellow petals dropping to the ground. “And don’t try to blame yourself, this isn’t your fault. Or Nanika’s.”

“I know.” She obviously doesn’t, and Nanika’s likely just as bad if not worse. But she sets her chin against her palm, flowers squishing against her nose. “But it’s not yours either.”

That doesn’t need an answer at all, especially when that answer is it definitely is. But before he can figure out how to reassure his sister, a pair of heavy boots storms back up the steps.

Gon throws the door open, a wild look in his eyes. His .357 semi-automatic is back in its holster against his thigh, and he’s brought an extra pair of .22 pistols. He offers one to Alluka, who takes it and checks the safety and the suppressor like she’s been drilling it for her whole life and not just the last three days. “You have five minutes to hide before the wrong mob finds out you’re here,” he says without preamble.

“Is the basement still safe?” Alluka asks.

Gon starts to nod, then pauses. “It should be,” he says, shoving the sniper rifle and its stand into a large bag smelling faintly of manure. “At least until tonight. The next closest safehouse is out of town, and Killua still can’t move a lot.”

“I’m fine.” Alluka doesn’t quite roll her eyes, but she gives him an incredulous look nonetheless.

Arguing anymore would waste time they don’t have. All this running and hiding itches at Killua worse than his wounds, but there’s nothing he can do right now. Killua lets Gon pull him back to his feet, the shorter man supporting him easily. “Can you handle a gun?” Gon asks.

“I can handle more than that,” he grumbles, willfully forgetting that staying scoped is very different from actually shooting anything. Gon half-stumbles, breath hitching in his throat at the same time Killua realizes just what he said and tries to ignore the way his ears start to burn.

“I can take him,” Alluka offers, but Gon shakes his head. If anything, his grip on Killua tightens almost protectively, and Killua can’t help but pull closer to the warm body holding him up.

It must be the painkillers wearing off, fogging up his head, because he doesn’t realize how long he’s been quiet until Gon pokes him in the forehead. “Killua, we really have to move.”

“Ugh. Here, dumbass,” Killua says, and tucks the sunflower he’d rescued from Alluka into Gon’s spiky black hair.

His free hand drifts up, tracing the flower now sitting over his ear. “What is…?” His voice sounds funny, congested and stuffed up.

Killua grins. It’s no sunflower crown, but maybe Gon’ll teach him how to make one of those later. “I thought it was pretty. Like you.”

Gon’s eyes widen, then darken, as his face turns a fiery red.

“Come on,” Alluka hisses. Gon laughs apologetically and half-drags Killua back down the stairs.

#sketchxhunter #my writing #guns and roses au #maybe I'll write more of this AU later haha #hxh #hxh fic #killugon #blood mention

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