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sevs-corner · 7 days ago

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Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 3: Epilogue

{A/N: Here's the link to my masterlist } Link under for ch 3!

Ghost thought that you had to be a desperate bloke that happened strolled in to the hotspot of mafiosos.

‘A muppet!’ As Price would like to put it, but oddly enough, you looked more like a sad and pathetic one than a desperate one.

He well knows the reputation this bakery holds in this city, and you just stumbling along here- cold to the bone and hot to the head- didn’t quite add up to him.

An itch in his brain you were for some reason, even more so now when his boss had called for an immediate meeting back at HQ, even though they had a mission to go out for that night.

He digresses, nodding in agreement to Price before going back into to get Gaz— who was currently negotiating with a worried Nonna and Nonno about your sudden presence at their place.

“Hey,” all three turn their heads to his sudden entrance, “Price says we gotta head back.”

Gaz nods, his gaze hardening in understanding- he caught a snippet of it as he came back down.

“Nonno, Nonna,” he smiles to them in appreciation, “we’ll come back tomorrow for her.”

They nod in understanding.

Nonno then follows up with a- “we shouldn’t be too worried about it, right?”

Ghost quirks a brow, making eye contact with Gaz, as if to gauge that— were you really just a nobody? Or somebody they should be concerned about?

Gaz then shakes his head, “you shouldn’t,” he reassures.

Nonno smiles in appreciation, “then go on your way then boys- we know you got your jobs to do.”

Giving one last goodbye to the two, and reassuring Nonna once again that they would be okay, they finally get to leave and meet up with Price by their car, who was was just leaning on it with a lit cigarette hanging at the side of his mouth.

“That took a while,” Price comments, his eyes not leaving the paper in his hand, to which both took interest in.

“Are we gonna have that meeting before the mission?” Ghost asks, ready to nick pick the hell out of what’s going inside of Price’s head at the moment but pouts internally, seeing him shake his head.

“Mission comes first,” he says assertively, “we’re already short time— and we need to wait for Soap.”

Gaz groans, “ugh, why does he get to be left behind!”

His boss chuckles, “you’re the better driver, Garrick.”

Gaz instantly perks up and Ghost couldn’t help the chuckle as he watches the man quickly run to the driver side and lock into his seat.

“Well, hurry up then— we better get goin’, yeah?”

They both rolled their eyes, doing the same and hopping inside well- making sure to focus up for this meeting with an underground kingpin.

“Be sure to check your six down there,” Price reminds as they near the entrance to the under ground bar and casino in the west-end side of the city— where the growing red light district started to bud and grow.

It was a pain to go here, but this was a hub for information aside from the usual sleaze bags and scum that drowns themselves into greed and lust.

Ghost now knew that this became a 2-in-1 mission, take out the kingpin wanker that’s currently cheating off of 414’s good graces, and to get intel on that…paper.

Once Gaz buzzed in that he locked into the target, he knew this was going to a breeze for them, “like clockwork” as Price would put it.

As if it were a daily occurrence to them, Price and Ghost quickly dispatched the Kingpin’s men one by one, while Gaz instantly knocked out the man who was sitting and drinking with girls in his arms. Those women screamed and instantly ran away, not wanting to be the next person Gaz’ll take out.

Just like that, they had this man tied up in a chair in his office, with Price leading the interrogation.

“So Pierre,” Price starts with an inquisitive grin, “how’s the business comin’ along?”

Pierre glares, thrashing relentlessly against his binds but Price knew he wouldn’t be able to get out, Ghost’s handiwork will never room for any kind of that possibility.

“Fuck off!” Pierre growls, “I said I was gonna pay next week!”

Price tuts, “did I say we agreed on that date?”

“Seems like he’s weaselin’ and havin’ too much fun boss,” Gaz grins from behind the man, hands fidgeting with a butterfly knife.

His boss nods and Gaz takes that as signal to throw the knife right by the man’s temple, barely grazing his ear and the skin near it, then landing onto the wall across from him.

“Whoops,” Gaz giggles, “my hands slipped!”

“You bastard!” Pierre shrieks, “I’m fucking bleeding now!”

“Oh, you’ll be being doing more than bleeding, ya wanker,” Ghost snides, whipping out his own choice method of getting answers from this man.

“I suggest you start behavin’ Pierre,” Price smiles, “or else that tiny scar would be the least of your worries.”

Eventually, they got the man to talk as Price finds his secret bank book with receipts of where all his and their money went.

Though that went well, on the other hand- getting answers on the paper were proven…futile.

Pierre insisted he never saw it and even double downs- unlike before.

Though Price is a the type of man who wastes time for anyone, so he nods to Gaz, and he is all-too-happily ending him with the displayed gun in the man’s office.

“Dispose him,” Price commanded and Gaz pouts, hating the clean-up work but goes on with it anyways.

“He’s lying,” Ghost mutters, “wanker was pissin’ his pants.” He had a knack for these things and he could tell the genuine fear that grew in the man’s eyes. His legs were bouncing more relentlessly, eyes constantly glancing back and worth— all the signs were there.

“Figured,” Price lights a cig and then huffs out a response, “was too quick to reply— too antsy for my taste.”

Ghost observes his boss and brother, that itch coming back in and bugging him even more that he had no choice but to scratch it.

“Can I have a look at it, John?”

Price turned to him, silently debating whether he should let Ghost know now or later.

He pinches his brows yet hands it over to him anyways, Ghost taking this opportunity and snatching it.

He reads the direction paper side first, looking at it oddly before overturning and—

“John what the fuck?”

Price nods, “I know.”

“We have to fucking go now.”

“No,” John glares at Simon, “we don’t.”

“And why the fuck not?!” Simon roars in his face because he knows John wouldn’t fuck them over with something so important, but at the same time was frustrated that he didn’t tell them sooner.

“Told you guys earlier,” John puffs another out, “need everybody to be together.”

“You weren’t kiddin’,” Simon mutters and he thinks about you happening to meet them at the front of the bakery again.

“Was it really from ‘em?”

Simon couldn’t really wrap his head around you and this goddamn piece of paper. It was hard to believe that you would pop out of nowhere, just to send ‘em this sweet nifty reminder of their past.

“Yes,” Price nods, “nabbed it from the purse myself.”

Ghost gives him a look, opening and closing his mouth before ultimately deciding not to say anything and just nod in understanding.

“Got it.”

“All done here~,” Gaz enters back to the room, wiping the sweat of his brow but immediately stops, his easy-going attitude gone with sensing the heavy air that permeated the room.

He sighs and leans by the doorway, “its the paper isn’t it?”

“We’re prioritizing this as number one priority now on the intel team,” Ghost decides, standing and leaving through the door where Gaz was.

“That was quick,” Gaz’s eyes rows jumped to his forehead, “number one?”

He sees him nod and Gaz just hums, looking back to Price who just seemed to accept it then and there as well.

“If that’s rolling,” he claps his hands and juts his thumb out the door, “let’s skiddaddle and hop on it, then?”

They both nod to his proposal and head back to the car.

Ghost was reeling in his emotions in the car ride back up until the meeting with everyone now present. Even with Soap at his side, squeezing his shoulder in comfort— his mind was a mess.

“What the fuck…” Soap drawls, head thrown back and hands weaved through his hair.

Silence hung in the air as everyone digested the information passed on from Price and everyone stares at that simple drawing of a horn.

“It can’t be him, right?” Soap’s elbows were now on the table but his hand were on his face, voice seeped deep into denial.

“Has to be,” Ghost mutters, legs thrown on top of the desk and crossed over each other while his hands laid on top of his lap. “Can’t be anyone else.”

“Unbelievable!” Gaz denies loudly by slamming his hands on the table, “do you think they’d be his lackey?”

“A bait,” Price interjects, “an innocent or passer-by that might just be a little too unlucky.”

“Unlucky?” Ghost scoffs, “there’s no such thing as coincidence boss— you of all people should know that.”

“That’s fucked up,” Soap comments before growling to Ghost, “you saw ‘em— sick and whittled to the bone!”

“The perfect candidate.”

Soap is immediately at his brother’s collar, pulling at it and putting everyone into a panic.

“Soap, Ghost- chill-!” Gaz immediately moves to part them.

“He’s being a fuckin’ wanker!” Soap grits.

“And you’re being a dumbass.” Ghost seethes.

“Everyone down.”

Price voice booms, cold as ice with his eyes steeling hard as he takes in the mess of the room. He waits for everyone to get situated again before talking, now standing before everyone with his hands on hips.

“Ghost.” He called out and he nods in response, “go with our initial plan.”

“Yes, boss.”

Ghost nods whereas Soap protests, though he was immediately silenced by both his superiors.

Back at the bakery, Ghost gets time to thinks to himself as he replays the scene of you and Soap go at it in his mind. With Soap even acting like a gnat with his stupid grin— all because of you.

You.

With the itch finally seizing, his mind is now clearer. Fully deciding how to treat you in the face against his family—

“You’re driving cara to the market district for me.”

Ghost turns to him as if he was even offended at the thought of doing it. With a glare and Nonno giving one of his own, Ghost knew he wouldn’t back down, so he had to look at Price who gave him a smile.

“Nonno asked you to, Ghost.”

He huffs, his chair making a loud enough shriek that makes you jump once as you get to the last step of the stairs, making you almost slip, catch yourself, then breath out a sigh of relief.

“Where to?”

He hears you ask Nonno, and he couldn’t be bothered to hear the rest as he approaches the door.

“You should get going sleepyhead,” Soap advised you, “he ain’t gonna wait for someone like ya’.”

You give him the bird before quickly chasing after the weird brooding man with a mask on.

“Get the fuck in already,” Ghost commanded irritatedly while he stares you crossing your arms in indignation.

“Can’t you move your stuff so I could sit at the front?”

He deadpans at your comment.

“No.” He clips, “To the back.”

He sees you huff and slam the door shut before opening the one behind it, sliding into the seat smoothly then buckling in.

Once he hears the click, he is revving it.

And dear whatever-deity-is-out-there hope that this wouldn’t be your final moments.

He hears you let out a sigh of relief once he cools down and enters the busy streets, letting the traffic be then turning to you for questions.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, “you know anything about gangs or mafias?”

You shook your head no then follow up with a- “why?”

Ghost stays quiet for a moment, stewing in your response.

“The city’s full of people like us,” he decides to explain, “and that’s common knowledge.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “really? Did not know that…”

He hears your mumble and nods all the same.

“But what isn’t,” you feel him break the car suddenly and you slam into the front seat, “is that bakery.”

Your eyes couldn’t tear away from the glare he gave you, it was stilled onto you and you were afraid that even breathing in this man’s capacity would end you for good this time.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper, “I got lost.”

“What a laughable excuse,” he huffs, leaning back on the seat, gaze now directed again at the traffic and you feel free to move now.

‘Now that Medusa’s eyes weren’t trained on me.’

“Well,” you shrugged, “up to you to believe or not but that’s what happened.”

You hear his growl of complaint so you shot him another before he could reply.

“I know you have your issues and I got mine,” you started slowly, “but I got nothing to do with it and frankly— I don’t care.”

You yelped back to your seat when he grabs your collar, pulling you forward and come face to face with him.

You tell that— from the way his nose was flaring, the crease on his forehead growing deep, and the frown that could be seen protruding through his mask- he was pissed.

“You would care if it involved your family.”

With a click of his tongue, he tosses you back and goes back to driving, the silence less palpable than ever.

Ghost can’t believe he lost to his whims, it was supposed to be an interrogation— he fucking stepped over a line he shouldn’t and his ass would be had by Price.

He told himself that he’d treat like an enemy but that seemed to be less likely, the more he learned about you during lunch.

Now, he isn’t confident.

And that makes his stomach churn.

“Then tell me about it.” He hears you speak, and just like that— the clouds parts.

“What do you mean?” He grunts, and looks up at the rear view mirror.

He was quite surprised at the expression you wore- it wasn’t one of resentment or fright, but a compassionate one.

An unfamiliar one, he notes.

“I don’t have family.” You put it bluntly. “So I don’t know how it…feels—“ your hands wave wildly about, “—so tell me about it.”

‘Oh.’ He sucks in his teeth. ‘That’s what you meant.’

It takes him a moment to digest and reply, and frankly, you were quite used to that reaction.

“Well…” you wait patiently for him to continue, “…it makes you feel like you care.”

And you nod, letting him know that you were listening.

“Makes you feel… like they’re a treasure,” he starts tapping on the wheel, “makes you feel… like you got treasure ‘em.”

“Like a pirate and their booty?”

He chuckles at your sudden quip.

“You could put it like that.”

From then on, you both continue throwing questions back and forth- letting you ask about him and the family.

Furthering confirming that you were just a passer-by.

Furthering proving that Price is right- you were a bait.

A quite unfortunate one at that.

Once you both get to the market, you turn to wave him goodbye, Ghost- shocking you- did the same, then pulling up the window and leaving as soon as he came.

Ghost wasn’t confident— but he is sure now.

He feels his stomach settle from lunch, making him sigh in relief.

The day was long and rough, and you finally got what you wanted— a place to yourself (for now) and a job (for now).

Once you got up to the room, you were surprised at how clean and homey it was— quite a stark contrast to the building it was held in.

From the carpet to the drapes, everything matched perfectly to what you would say a, “academia aesthetic with flora.”

Well, more like dead flora.

You digress, brushing that aside for the more important part was a good shower and some nice sleep— until the morning welcomes you again in the form of a knock at the door.

Opening it then gets you a,

“Hey shortstack! Missed me?”

Making you instantly slam the door and trudge back to bed.

A/N: A bit of in between moments during previous chapters with this one focusing on Ghost’s POV this time! Already cooking up the next one✨

Taglist! <3

@astreaaaaaa6 @accidental-obsessionist

#Tf 141 mafia au #unedited #crackfic #cod mw2 #cod x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 poly #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader

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cloverque · 1 year ago

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up on tokio hill (msby bj)

masterlist, ch 1: the newbie is our new housemaid! (not)

upon arriving in tokio hill, a misunderstanding occurs the moment you show up. your new housemates seem like a lot to deal with– and a lot more handsome than you expected. but things will work out, will it not?

5488 words

“I swear I’ll call security on ya if ya don’t leave right now!” The blonde man before you shook his phone in the air, ready to fulfil his threat. His orbs were flaming with the fury of a thousand suns and his face was pulled back to a snarl– he looked like he was ready to drop-kick you out of the house itself.

“I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. I don’t even know what’s going on!” You held up your hands defensively and stood firmly (as much as you could without shaking).

The urge to take flight in the face of a livid, insanely handsome dude was so strong that you may just leave the country altogether. This was definitely not the way you imagined your first day at the share-house would go.

“Everyone calm down!” Another man begged. Behind the silver haired man is an oven with smoke leaking out of. His hands were held up as well, like the scene in Jurassic World and the raptors.

For the love of the gods, Uncle Tai, what have I gotten myself into…?

(A few hours ago…)

Tokio Hill was a quiet suburb in the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t exactly what it sounded when Uncle Tai had introduced it– you’d imagine it was a bumpy piece of land with tall grass and mice scurrying about. According to Google, it was home to plenty of rich folks, celebrities and some of Japan’s biggest sensations. It used to be a paparazzi hotspot until the local authorities decided to protect the inhabitants by conducting regular security checks. There were even a couple of police outposts in the area.

It was a wonder how a normal person could afford living in such a high end place. If it weren’t for your ‘niece discount’, you would never have moved into the area. Uncle Tai barely told you about the other tenants, but they must have been loaded. With that said…

“How on earth did Uncle Tai bag this place?” You wondered aloud as you stood outside a gated property, a pet carrier in one hand and a luggage bag in another.

This house was unlike the (extravagant) others down the road. An off white coat of paint with a deep, navy blue roof. It had a number of floors, you guessed three altogether. The fence had barely any gaps between them, preventing you from peeking through. It did a splendid job obscuring the ground floor from public view, but the other floors were visible.

A meow came from the carrier. You peered inside; a stubby Sphynx sat comfortably inside, whiskers twitching curiously. You slipped your fingers through the gaps to rub its hairless head.

“Oh Meru, I guess our new life starts today,” you whispered. Its bright blue eyes twinkled with (what you assumed was) curiosity. Your pet mewed back as you returned your focus to the house.

It all starts here. A fresh start. You inhaled deeply then exhaled. It’ll work out– it has to.

You approached a smaller gate that was off to the side of the entrance. A silver intercom was built into the gate. You pressed the biggest button, probably the doorbell. It didn’t take long before you got a response.

Static buzzed from the intercom. A man’s voice crackled, “...Ello? Hey, hello?”

You straightened up, “Hi! I’m new here. Today’s my first day, and–“

“Oh, I know you! Yeah, come on in,” The man interrupted. The crackling stopped and you the gate clunked. Gingerly, you pushed it open and entered the estate.

The front yard was huge, accommodating two shiny cars and a front yard. Concrete seemed to extend around the area, tall enough that you doubted you’d be able to see the other side without a ladder. Lining the walls were hedges; green and freshly trimmed. Off to a corner was a grassy area with an outdoor swing and bird fountain. A fish carved from stone spewed a steady stream of water into the pool.

Your eyes wandered around as you moved towards the main door. Footsteps thudded inside the house before the door swung open. A giant loomed over you and Meru. Your pet cat and you simultaneously tilted your heads up to look at him– a man with silver hair, peppered with grey tips. He was all smiles in a frilly apron.

This guy must be almost two metres tall! Both your cat and you stared in awe. You stared holes at the super girly apron. A magical girl was printed on the front. M-Moe gap…

“I was expecting you! Come on in,” he patted his hands on the apron, “I’m in the middle of something, so you can just do the second floor first.”

“Okay. Wait, what-?”

An alarm sounded inside the house. The man whipped his head towards the source before turning back to you. “Uh oh, we gotta hurry! Come on in already,” Without hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.

You clambered in, luggage and all, and Meru screeched from its rocking carrier. Full of apologies, you tried to console your pet whilst he shut the door. He noticed Meru, who stood on its haunches at the salt and pepper haired man.

“You can leave your things here first,” He gestured where you stood. When you set Meru on top of the shoe cabinet at the entrance, he reached out to you. His larger hand enveloped your wrist effortlessly and he began pulling you along. His hold was gentle enough so as to not bruise, but secure enough to make sure you couldn’t run. The unwarranted warmth on your wrist gave you goosebumps.

What on earth was going on? This was some sort of misunderstanding, right? Before you could process that thought, he stopped at the end of the hallway, where a closet awaited. He rummaged through it and produced a few items.

“Here’s what you’ll need. This, this– oh, this too…” Without looking, he handed you cleaning tools: bleach, sprays, gloves and more.

As he progressively piled more into your arms, the alarm continued beeping in the background. You practically cradled the load, “Umm, mister, I don’t think I’m who you think I am. I’m actually-”

The man ran off to the kitchen, where a cloud of grey began seeping from an oven. He screeched incoherently and began fussing over whatever it was inside. As he began murmuring to himself, you sighed. There was no way of getting through to him. At least, not now.

You took in the living room slowly. In the corner of the house was a flight of stairs. The rest of the place was split into three areas: the lounge, dining area and kitchen. The lounge was furnished with a massive flat screen television and a long couch. In-between was a paper strewn coffee table and magazines haphazardly stacked. Meanwhile, the kitchen was occupied by none other than the silver haired man, who stood by marble countertops. There was an island table as well, though it seemed counterintuitive when there was a dining table present.

The layout of the place was exactly like the photos Uncle Tai had sent you. And the place was big. As expected of a private estate in a posh area. Again, how did your good for nothing uncle score this place…?

You looked at your cleaning supplies. He said just the second floor, right? Maybe he’d listen to you afterwards. You waved goodbye to Meru and began your way up the flight of stairs, tools in hand.

When you reached the second floor, you peered around the corners to view the hallway. There were three rooms available, two on either side. One of the doors had a little sign that read ‘bath and laundry’. You peeked inside: there was a common area with a sink and mirror that stretched across one wall. Laundry machines and baskets were on the other end, with one of the baskets piled up with off-white sheets. You walked deeper in and into the connected shower room, which had a huge bathtub. On the shelves built into the walls were a mess of different bottles of miscellaneous hygiene items.

There was a lot to be done, you realised as you walked out of the shower room. You approached the laundry and realised there were jars of different powders on the shelves hanging above the laundry machines. There was even a note, a handwritten one with a few annotations. You scrutinised it with a squint.

“For every extra bedsheet, use a third of a cup of detergent. Only use this brand of fabric softener for the sheets. I will come after you if they are not properly washed,” You read aloud. A giggle escaped you, “What the heck? They sound like a troublesome person.”

You eyed the baskets– you could start with this one. The instructions written by the troublesome person could guide you for your first task. The counters and shelves could do some wiping and reorganising as well.

“Guess I better get started,” You left to return downstairs, “I better set these things down first before I drop them.”

While you laid out your cleaning appliances, a man entered the laundry-cum-wash room. The man pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his blonde hair. It fell to the floor, along with the sweatpants he had shimmied out of. He swooped up his clothes and hung them over one of the baskets. Quietly, he closed the bathroom door behind him, forgoing the decision to lock it. After a shower, he stepped into the bathtub for a soak. With a long arm draped over one side, he closed his eyes and began dozing off. Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of the door, you had begun to do the laundry.

　The tumbling of laundry filled the room. You watched the sheets toss and turn inside the machines as you squatted, hands on your knees. Thanks to the meticulously written notes, it was easy to figure out the buttons and amount of detergent to use. While they were washing, you wiped down the counters and surfaces. Your cleaning rags were coiled up in the bottom of the pail beside you.

While cleaning, you came to the conclusion that the guy in the kitchen had mistaken you for a cleaner. Uncle Tai must have told the tenants that you’d be here, right? There’s no way that bozo would forget to inform them… right?

“Knowing him, maybe it’s not out of the picture,” you sighed and rested your face in your hands.

You heard footsteps from the hallway and your face lit up. Was he finally free to speak? You turned expectantly but came face to face with another stranger. A half-naked man wrapped in a towel around his torso stood at the doorway of the shower. His hands tried to hide his exposed chest and his face was…

Oh– This isn’t good.

He let out an ear-piercing scream.

. . .

Oh right, so that’s what had led up to this situation.

You blinked at the blonde who droned on about the cops and trespassing. This guy was a broken record, nothing was going through him. His shoulders heaved up and down aggressively. Was it from anxiety or anger? It was hard to tell.

“Tsum-tsum, you gotta chill out! It’s the new maid Taichii hired, remember? He told us about it last week!” the silver haired man clarified. He still adorned the frilly apron with the magical girl.

“The new maid’s only supposed to be here when we ain’t around, ya moron!” The blonde man said, eyes wide. “I can’t believe ya let a stalker into the house, Bo-kun! Besides, it looks like she’s moving in, not cleaning for the day!”

He jabbed a finger in the direction of your luggage. Meru, who had been anxious throughout, flinched. It hissed in the direction of a frowning ‘Tsum-Tsum’.

You blocked his line of sight to Meru, “Woah there, you’ve really got the wrong idea. I’m not your stalker because firstly, I swear to the gods that I don’t even know who you are. And secondly, I’m your new housemate– I have the contract and texts to prove it!”

The blonde raised his brows before returning to his scowl. He seemed to ponder it over.

“Huh? So you aren’t our new housemaid?” The man named ‘Bo-kun’ blinked incessantly.

“Or a stalker?” The blonde folded his arms crossly.

Before you could retort, the main door clicked open.

“I’m home!” You heard a voice call out. Footsteps thumped in the hallway before another man appeared in the scene. This person carried a bag of groceries in one hand, and a cap in another. His bright ginger hair contrasted against the cream walls of the living room.

“I saw another pair of shoes at the entrance. Is (l/n)-san finally-“ He made eye contact with you and the others, “–What’s going on?”

“Hinata! Help–” Apron guy cried as the ginger hurried over. “Tsum-tsum thinks our new maid is a stalker-!”

“For the love of– How many times must I tell you guys that I’m neither!” You threw up your hands in desperation.

The ginger blinked once at you before looking at the others, “Did you guys forget? Taichii-san’s niece is joining us here starting today. Isn’t this (l/n)-san?”

The three men turned their heads to you. A long sigh escaped you. It seemed like they would finally listen. Thank the gods for this man named Hinata.

　Meru roamed freely in the living room, sniffing the kitchen counters. It approached the oven, which was half-open. A tray of burnt cookies sat inside, and your cat ran off after a tentative sniff. Meanwhile, you stared at the men sitting across from you. They had introduced themselves briefly, and the three men across from you were known as Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto.

Uncle Tai forgot to mention that I’ll be living with a bunch of dudes, you side-eyed your sphynx. As if it could hear your thoughts, the hairless cat mewed back.

“I’m so sorry, (l/n)-san,” Bokuto blushed. He sat across you at the dinner table, his forehead practically squished against the surface as he bowed apologetically. His form was shrunken with embarrassment, his broad shoulders drawn in.

Atsumu sipped on his mug of coffee. He appeared indignant over the situation, as much as someone could be after accusing an innocent person of a crime. He would send not so inconspicuous gazes your way too. As you stared pointedly, your eyes met and he averted his gaze. An irk mark formed on your head.

This guy hates to swallow his pride, huh? What an asshole.

Whilst sparks flew between the two of you, Hinata scratched his cheek. He sat in between the others awkwardly. “This vibe makes me feel like I should apologise too…”

“It’s been a while since I heard of the news and I… completely forgot… and mixed up the housecleaning visit with your moving in. I’m terribly sorry for making you clean the place up–!” Bokuto added, still grovelling.

You held up your mug of coffee, “It’s fine now, Bokuto-san. And please, there’s no need for you to do this. It’s okay.”

He lifted his head cautiously and you reassured him with a nod. You took a tentative sip.

“How can we make it up to you?” Hinata spoke up, to which you rubbed your chin.

Meru mewed at the foot of the table. You lit up and turned to the trio, “Oh, I know. How about you show me around the house?”

It didn’t take much convincing for a house tour. Although, a certain blonde had slipped away during the tour, refusing to entertain your questions. The remaining duo properly showed you around the house, including the backyard. They shared that sometimes, they would have barbecues with friends, though rarely. You learned that Atsumu and Bokuto stayed on the second floor, which probably explained how the former had entered the bathroom without you knowing, due to it being right across his room. Meanwhile, Hinata, another tenant and you stayed on the third floor. As for the toilets…

When you enquired about it, the guys exchanged a look before Hinata sheepishly said, “Taichii-san had specifically requested that you use the third floor’s bathroom only… Um, he mentioned that it wouldn’t be right for a lady to share a bathroom with men she had no familial relation with.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’m being a bother,” Your eyes widened.

“It’s totes fine. We’re not at home much... Besides, we only have toilet fights when Tsum-tsum’s in the kitchen. Which is rare-” Bokuto rambled before Hinata slapped a hand over his mouth. The man with salt and pepper hair blinked in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it!” The ginger grinned. You raised a brow. That wasn’t reassuring one bit.

They led you to your room and the duo retreated downstairs. You watched them leave with Meru in your arms. You stood outside a room, the only one with a sign hanging on the door. It was your name arranged in hiragana with wooden blocks. A flower was even glued to the end.

Does Uncle Tai think I’m still in preschool? You tried to take it down only to realise it was superglued to the door. An irk mark formed on your head. A certain bozo was about to hear it from me later on the phone…

You closed the door behind you and set Meru down. Its tail trembled curiously as it inspected the floor. Gazing around the room, you noted the stacks of cardboard boxes in a corner. Huh, Uncle Tai really wasn’t lying when he said this place was bigger. You sat down on the bed. The naked mattress was soft yet firm, awaiting to be clothed in sheets. The evaporated stains of cleaning liquid on surfaces notified you of its recent cleaning. And much to your pleasure, the room was modestly furnished the way you had requested it to be. Just a table, wardrobe and cabinet.

Suddenly, you were reminded of your luggage at the door. You had forgotten about it during the chaos. It was the least of your worries when you were dealing with the probability of being arrested. You opened your door and peeked out of the room. Unexpectedly, your luggage bag was waiting outside. You glanced around the hall and at the stairs.

Someone has helped you out! You watched for any movement at the stairs but neither saw nor heard anything. With gratitude, you muttered thanks and wheeled it in.

You spent the rest of your time unboxing and decorating your room. Meru helped by laying on the bed and its new sheets. It dozed off in the warmth that filtered through your windows. You made quick work of unpacking clothes and arranging your decorations and merchandise. As you finished setting up your monitors, you pondered over the earlier argument.

Why did the blonde guy react so explosively earlier? Was he a celebrity of sorts? You were certain that you were up to date with pop culture, but neither his face nor name rang a bell. Though you wouldn’t doubt if he wasn’t famous. He was as prickly as a sea-urchin but undeniably a handsome man. You rummaged through your pop culture schemas but produced nothing.

A thump outside your room broke your train of thought. You peeked past your door to investigate and found yet another giant in the hallway. What did the tenants of this house eat…? This man was dressed in a stylish turtleneck and coat, and he stood across you, fiddling with the keys to his room.

Suddenly, Meru mewed. The man in the coat spun around, keys in hand. Your cat yawned and nuzzled the bed. You met his obsidian eyes nervously.

“Umm, hello…” You started. He stared back.

Despite wearing a mask, he was also quite the looker. Why was this house full of good looking dudes? Was he a celebrity of sorts too? The man had a mop of curly dark hair atop his head and two moles above an eyebrow. Wait, two moles? Your eyes widened in recognition, “Sakusa Kiyoomi!?””

Sakusa knitted his brows together. His mask twitched as he spoke, “Do I know you?”

“Are you for real? We attended class together in highschool . Remember, with your cousin Komori-kun. I was with you for all three years!” You gestured at yourself. He stared hard, as if considering what you had just said.

Heavy footsteps filled the stairway and Bokuto reappeared, “Oh! I see you guys have met already. That’s awesome,” He grinned and gestured over his shoulder, “C’mon, we’re heading out for dinner!”

“Huh? But I just got back,” Sakusa rubbed his temples with a sigh.

Bokuto simply placed his hands on his hips, “It won’t be good if you miss out, Yoomi! Besides, we’re having a welcome party!”

　By the time you set foot, it was already evening. The restaurant they intended to visit was within walking distance, on the outskirts of the city that edged towards the suburbs. Rows of shops were situated on one side of a river, where cherry trees lined along. With spring fleeing from Japan’s grasp, the trees had already lost most of their blossoms. That didn’t stop you from catching a lone fluttering blossom as you stood outside a restaurant. Warm light filtered through the paper screen doors as the sign above read Onigiri Miya.

The guys opened the doors and a windchime rang in the doorway. You peeked past their broad shoulders to take in the place. The interior was a modest mixture of Japanese and modern design, with cream walls and wooden floorboards. Customers dined at the counter that looped around the kitchen or on the floors, at the low tables. The clamour of conversation and oil crackling was almost homely, like the izakayas in back home. As your eyes scanned the place, a waiter with freckles practically bounded towards your group.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you guys!” The boy said. He must have been in high school with his doe-like gaze.

“Sup,” Atsumu grinned. He was surprisingly cheery despite the earlier situation, “Is Samu here?”

“He left earlier for a catering event. The boss has been busy lately!” He noticed you and quickly added, “Oh, who’s this?”

“She’s our new housemate. Taichii’s niece,�� Hinata added, gesturing at you with a smile. You nodded shyly and the waiter beamed.

“Arighty! My name is Yuuma and I’ll be your waiter for the day!” He swooped up a few menus and gestured, “Please follow me!”

Yuuma led everyone to the back of the restaurant. This area was partitioned off with screen doors, and it was far quieter here. These rooms must be reserved for special customers. You entered the room last and everyone took their seats, leaving the only open spot next to Atsumu. It wasn’t your intention to sit beside him, so you made it clear by respectfully scooting an inch away from him. After inspecting the menu, and with thoughtful insight from the guys, you decided on a warm bowl of curry udon, with a side of a speciality onigiri.

An awkward silence fell in the room the moment Yuuma left to place the orders. You half-heartedly scratched the fabric of your clothes when Hinata spoke up.

“We haven’t had a proper opportunity to introduce ourselves, so let me start,” the ginger smiled. His amber eyes held a homely warmth that could melt the barriers of anybody’s heart. He gestured at himself, “I’m Hinata Shouyou. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“I’m (l/n) (y/n). The pleasure is mine,” You bowed your head. Mirroring Hinata’s smile, you added, “Uncle Tai and I share the same family name, so feel free to call me (y/n), if you’d like.”

“Can I call you (y/n)-chan? That’s such a pretty name!” Bokuto straightened up and thumbed at his chest, “Ah– And I’m Koutarou Bokuto! It’s real nice to meet ‘cha!”

Bokuto’s gaze arrowed at the blonde beside you. The former seemed to be staring expectantly for him to introduce himself. Maybe because of the awkward incident from earlier. Ah… this awkward introduction gave the vibe of adolescents during a mixer, or something.

“Miya Atsumu,” the blonde practically exhaled. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. He thumped an elbow on the table and rested his chin on it, “Nice to meet ‘cha, I suppose.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, Miya-san,” Your smile wavered. Even if he mistook you for a stalker.

“Atsumu will do just fine.”

A half hearted sigh escaped you internally. Then there was Sakusa, who seemed disinterested in the conversation from the start. He had his gaze fixated on the wall behind you this whole time. Your eyes met for a brief second.

He spoke up softly, “Sakusa Kiyoomi. But you seem to already know that.”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I was the class president in all our years in high school,” You leaned forward a little. Would that be enough to jog his memory?

Sakusa looked up at the ceiling, seemingly disinterested. You sighed with a dejected smile. Figures. It had been a number of years after graduation. So this reaction wasn’t much of a surprise. Your shoulders drooped in defeat.

“Sooo… does that mean you attended Itachiyama Institute?” Hinata spoke up. “What was Sakusa-san like?”

“I’ve attended since middle school all the way to high school. I may be wrong, but Sakusa-san transferred at the start of his first year of high school,” You lit up. Grinning, you cheekily added, “Girls were all over him for the next three years. It was never a boring day.”

“It was annoying,” Sakusa admitted. His focus remained on anything but you, but he indulged in a half-smile. “The only good memories I had were on the court.”

“Somebody’s shy,” the blonde beside you sniggered, “I’m surprised he had chicks when he’s this much of an asshole– Ow!”

Something thumped under the table. You could only assume Sakusa had kicked Atsumu under. A nervous smile creeped up on your face. Beneath his mask of calm he must have been riled up a little by that comment. Who knew he’d grown to be so petty.

Meanwhile, Atsumu grinded his teeth, “Fall over and shrivel up!”

The waiter returned with trays in hand. In a sing-song voice, he said, “Atsumu-san, please keep it down.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and pouted. What was he, five? While Atsumu hyper-fixated on a dent in the floor, Bokuto helped Yuuma place the dishes on the table while Hinata began distributing cutlery. You took a pair of chopsticks and pulled your meal closer to you. The five of you shared a quiet meal, as much as one could when a blonde was seething beside you.

After some time had passed, you asked, “So are you all from the Kansai region? Except for Atsumu-san, the rest of you don’t sound like it.”

“Yoomi and I are from the capital, but Hinata’s from Miyagi.” Bokuto responded with a mouth full of ebifry. He took a swig of beer before exclaiming, “Woo! This stuff is great!”

Sakusa leaned away from Bokuto, a disgusted expression on his features. He shifted his meal away from the guy, who dropped a shrimp tail from his mouth. Meanwhile, Atsumu nagged at the guy to eat less sloppily.

Hinata chuckled before turning to you, “Yup, I’m from the more rural side of the prefecture. What about (l/n)-san?”

“I also lived in the countryside up until grade school. That’s when I moved to Tokyo,” you took a bite of a potato. It was soft and tender, like the rest of the veggies in the curry.

“I totally get it,” Hinata grinned. I can imagine it was a big change!”

“And now you moved from Tokyo to Osaka.” Bokuto prodded with half another ebifry sticking out from his lips. “Why’s that?”

You stopped mid bite. You raised your head to meet Bokuto’s eyes. The others were preoccupied with their food, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t listening. Like wisps of steam on a hot day, your appetite dissolved. Suddenly your curry udon and speciality onigiri didn’t smell so appetising anymore. With a far off look in your eyes, you managed a timid smile.

“I… guess I needed a change of pace.”

. . .

“And then she said to me… ‘Who do you think you are, asshole?!... And- Oh, I don’t feel sho gud…’” Gurgled Bokuto, who remained limp in Hinata and Sakusa’s grasps. They were practically dragging him at this rate, with how in and out of consciousness he was.

“He’s a goner,” Sakusa announced. He jabbed a finger into Bokuto’s face before clicking his tongue, “I even told him to hold back a little.”

Hinata chuckled. The tips of his ears were dusted pink but not as saturated as Bokuto’s. “He’s the life of a party. You’d know by now that Bokuto-san can’t stop once he starts.”

“I’m well aware of my teammate’s awful drinking habits, but we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. He’s going to whine about his hangover during practice…” Sakusa trailed off.

Night had long fallen upon Osaka, and the way back was arduous with a passed out drunk in your party. You laughed light heartedly as the trio in front of you stumbled over a pebble. A flurry of insults at the unconscious man in the group spewed from Sakusa. Poor Hinata tried to defuse the situation on behalf of a man who was too drunk to care. Frankly, it was hilarious.

“What’s so funny?” Atsumu mumbled beside you. He was also tipsy, but not as bad as Bokuto. The two of you trailed behind the others.

Your smile fell, “Umm, it’s nothing.” You didn’t want him to misunderstand, so you quickly added, “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. I’m really happy.”

He hummed, seemingly in thought. A few moments of silence passed, and just when you figured that was the end, he muttered.

“Hey, about earlier.”

“Earlier…?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” the blonde said quickly, jamming his fists into the pocket of his hoodie. The warm light emanating from the street lamps cast a gentle glow on the contours of his handsome face. His brows furrowed, “I’ll be honest with ya, I jumped to conclusions and said some pretty awful things, my bad.”

He must not have been used to this– he was chewing on his bottom lip. It looked like it took everything in him to apologise, if you could consider this an apology.

The corners of your lips tilted up, “It’s okay. I would’ve been pretty spooked if some stranger appeared in my bathroom too. I may have done the same.”

“Oh, I mean. It’s not like ya did something wrong. Something like this happened before… sorta.”

This had happened before? Your surprised gaze was missed by Atsumu, who fixated on the path ahead. His eyes were downcast, and you frowned. With a face like his, it wouldn’t be out of the question to have obsessive fans. But stalkers were a different thing, no?

“I think I misjudged you,” you commented. “You seem like an okay guy, Atsumu-san.”

He gave you the side eye, “Hey, just because I apologised doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”

“You call that an apology?” You chuckled when Hinata called out suddenly.

“(l/n)-san, Atsumu-san! Can you help buy us some painkillers? We ran out and need some for Bokuto-san tomorrow!” He gestured at the FamilyMart nearby.

Atsumu groaned. He flashed an okay-sign to the guys before looking at you. “Boy, yer going to witness an ugly sight tomorrow. We’re going to buy five different types of painkillers only for Bokuto to refuse to eat any.”

He entered the store first. Staring at his back, you looked behind your shoulder at Hinata, Sakura and Bokuto. They were fussing over the guy in the middle whose eyes were barely open.

A smile crept up your face. Who knows? Maybe living with these guys is going to be alright.

“(y/n)-san,” Atsumu called. He stood at the doorway, arms crossed.

“Be there in a second!” You hurried over, shoes clacking on the pavement.

With the trio waiting outside, Atsumu and you searched the aisles for medicine. You took a handful which Atsumu dumped into a basket. As the two of you waited in line, your phone– which you had left behind on your desk– buzzed with notifications.

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theoldwest · 2 months ago

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🌲Man in the Wilderness 🌲 (ch. 1)

cw: mentions of drugs, sex, and two fucked up people unable to communicate their feelings. 18+

Warning: my formatting is so weird. This is how my brain works. o7

Pairings: SPN OC Babe x Dean (slow burn asf), all other pairings platonic .

✦

Babe watched her parents get turned into werewolves when she was 10, and she was never the same after. Hunting became her life, dropping out of school and running from foster homes to learn absolutely everything she could about monster hunting in order to track down her parents. At 16, she finally finds them and puts them out of their misery, mourning for weeks before deciding to pick right back up where she left off, vowing to only stop when she’s dead.

It’s only years later when she meets Bobby Singer. He takes her under his wing immediately, giving her an upstairs bedroom to crash in and introducing her to the Winchesters, hoping it will break the hermit out of her shell just a bit… until Babe takes it a tad too literally.

Chapter One: Shot Down In Flames

　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　　　　　✦ 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

The first time Dean sees her, she’s tucking out of Bobby’s back door into the rainy night; her curly hair seemingly leaving after she does.

“Hey— Woah. Bobby- who’s..?”

“Ah- don’t even get any ideas, kid. She’s… not friendly.”

Dean furrows his brow at Bobby before moving towards the back window, watching as the mysterious figure hops in their truck and pulls off into the storm.

The next time Dean sees her, it’s almost a year later. She hops begrudgingly out of Bobby’s truck bed, her cheeks wind-whipped from traveling in the cold October air. The hunter’s pupils widen at the sight of that pretty, curly hair. He remembers that hair.

She flicks a cigarette butt into the dirt before Bobby starts talking.

“Boys—this is Babe. She don’t talk much, so don’t push it. That means you, Dean.”

Dean makes a face. Of course he’s not gonna push it. …Hopefully.

“… she’s helping us on the hunt. any questions?”

The younger Winchester brother shakes his head “no” while Dean begins to open his mouth.

“That’s a rhetorical question, idjit. Now come on, or she’s gonna kill you before we get to the goddamned hunt.”

Babe looks over at Bobby appreciatively.

The group is about 30 minutes into the hunt, spread throughout the large, decaying house when Babe stumbles upon Dean. He’s crouched over, sticking his finger in black goop.

“… are you touching the ectoplasm?”

Dean yelps out in surprise and jumps up to face her. “Uh-“

Dean is blabbering words of nonsense, trying his best to explain that he just wanted to confirm the substance via viscosity.

“Actually, I don’t think I wanna know.” Babe interjects before scanning over the rest of the room, noticing a few more ectoplasmic splats on the dilapidated wooden floor.

“Hm. I’m gonna grab Bobby and your brother. Too much ecto in here for it not to be a hotspot. You… good here?”

Dean just nods, pretending she didn’t just scare the shit out of him.

“Just— please… try not to touch anymore ectoplasm. You, uh, can get ghost sickness; It really sucks.” Babe tells him, turning to fetch the other two hunters.

“Oh. I’ve… had it before.” He states, causing her to pause before she steps over the threshold into the hallway.

“Hm. Me, too.” She responds quickly, continuing in her stride to the others. He is left wanting to know more.

“That fucking sucked.”

Dean groans as they all stumble from the house, battered and bruised from being tossed into walls and through windows.

“Hear, hear.” Sam responds, limping towards the Impala.

“Anyone missing any fingers? That… Mildred bitch was a biter!” Bobby adds, moving to lean against Babe’s truck.

Babe just shakes her head, leaning against the F250 as well. “Lots of fun.”

“That was fun for you?” Dean groans, feeling his broken rib every time he breathes.

“Y’know, there’s a reason I didn’t introduce you all sooner. “ Bobby chuckles, tired.

“This one here is something else.”

Sam and Dean take a moment to look her over. She’s definitely the least injured out of all of them, only sporting a few cuts and bruises.

“You were kicking major ass.” Sam hums, smiling before wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

Babe smiles politely, but doesn’t respond.

“…So, you gonna be coming along on more hunts?” Dean asks as he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.

“… Dunno.” She hums, shrugging.

“Babe’s a bit of a lone wolf— doesn’t play well with other hunters.” Bobby begins, turning to look at her. “But, we’re workin’ on that, right?”

Babe shoots Bobby a look.

Sam and Dean find this endlessly amusing, until Babe redirects her glare to them, causing them to snap back into character quickly.

“Anyways, little miss sunshine here is happy to help out every once in a while. So she’s going to give you two her phone number so you can reach her. Ain’t that right, Babe?” Bobby asks, fatherly energy exuding.

“…Yeah.” She grumbles, handing Sam her cell phone.

A few more months pass, and Babe gets a call as she’s out on the road.

“….Hello?”

“Hey— It’s Dean Winchester. Now a good time?”

“Um—yeah. What’s up?”

“Well, you wouldn’t happen to be near Cold Oak, South Dakota, by any chance?”

She glances up at her gps.

“…I’m like, a day away— why?”

He clears his throat over the receiver. “Uh, well— I caught wind of a job. It’s kinda a two-person gig. You in?”

She furrows her eyebrows in confusion even though he can’t see her.

“Um, what about your brother?”

“Heh. Sammy got a little pissed at me the other day. He’s uh— on his own hunt. So— meet me in Cold Oak?”

Babe sighs silently, doing her best to hide her displeasure. It’s not that she doesn’t like Dean, it’s just that she doesn’t like… people in general.

“…Alright. Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

26 or so hours later, Babe’s in a motel parking lot smoking a cigarette against the grill of her truck.

Her phone buzzes— a text from Dean. “Sunrise Motel, right?”

She responds with a “Yep.”

15 minutes go by before she hears the Impala’s engine rumbling around the corner. She may be uninterested in hunting with other people, but at least Dean has a badass ride.

The older Winchester throws the car in park and steps out.

“Well, hey. I like the boots.” He hums, looking her over.

“…Thanks.” She responds, dry.

“… So— what’s up with this hunt?”

“Mm. A few soccer moms have been found dead. Everything splattered all over… everything. None of ‘em have anything in common, as far as I can tell.” He explains, making a mental note of her attitude— all business.

“Fun. Let’s go have a chat with anyone who knew the victims— maybe we’re dealing with a witch with a hit list or something.”

Dean loosens his tie as he sits in the Impala, obviously a little frustrated.

“… Totally thought it was a witch thing.”

Babe nods, chewing on the inside of her lip as she thinks. “Yeah. Same. But no hex bags anywhere— unless they’re in the freakin’ walls or something.”

“The coroner’s office was nuts— all three vics were in buckets. Almost smoothie-fied.”

Babe grimaces, looking over at him. “Goddamn. What even does that?”

“Hm. Woodchipper? ….Beats me.” He sighs.

“… Well, you know what that means.” She says.

“—You know, I have no idea how you fit all that hair in a bun.” He hums, nursing his 4th… 5th? beer. The bar they’re in is almost empty— classic rock playing at half volume overhead.

“…Lots of gel. So much.” She shakes her head, almost exasperated from even thinking about the process.

“Mm. It’s nice— but I like how you usually wear it.” He nods, taking another swig.

“—Thank you.” Her face twitches slightly when she receives compliments. Dean notices this.

“Uh… Bobby say anything yet?” She asks, changing the subject.

He pulls out his phone, checking his notifications. “… Yeah, actually. He asked if you had any more… cayenne pepper and bone ash?”

She sits and thinks for a moment, sipping her beer. “I should have some leftover...”

“… What’s cayenne pepper and bone ash for?” Dean asks, lost.

“—Bobby thinks it’s a cursed object. We gotta burn… whatever it is with cayenne pepper and bone ash in a graveyard.” She explains.

“Mm. You know, you’re like my brother. I bet you two would bond over lore or whatever you… nerds do.” He says, mock annoyed.

Babe shakes her head, amused. “…So, what do you think this cursed object is? I didn’t see any matching t-shirts or anything.”

Dean sighs. “No friggin’ clue. I mean, what— they all have the same cursed mini-van or something?”

She sits back in her chair, ruminating on his words for a minute before something dawns on her. “Hey, wait a fucking second—!“

“…So it was literally a cursed mini-van.” He says, eyebrows raised.

“Well, mid-sized S.U.V.— but, yeah. Mom car. Used to belong to some dude who dated a witch. They broke up, she got mad— cursed car.” She sighs, looking the vehicle over.

“Mm. And guy sold it without getting rid of the curse.”

“Yup. He still ended up dying from the curse though— way before the ladies, so we didn’t connect the dots.”

“Mm. Well, damn. Maybe I should hunt with you more often. Smart and pretty is a hell of a combo.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his flirting. “Anyways— I’m thinking we ward the shit out of this thing and then have Bobby come and tow it to the salvage. He can strip it to parts or whatever, and we can go check on ex-girlfriend.”

Dean nods. “Works for me. Hey— I saw a restaurant that looked pretty good on the way into town. Feel like stopping after we get our gank on?”

Babe looks at him; deadpan. “…get our gank on?”

“…Yeah.” He grins.

She looks at him for a while longer, fighting an internal battle.

“… Fine. As long as you buy the first round.”

“So—I’ve never asked— how’d you get into the life?” He hums, leaning back in the worn booth.

Her jaw flexes; she takes an almost imperceptible inhale before speaking. “Heh. Long, sad story, really.”

He nods in understanding. “Yeah. Same. Uh— Sammy and I were raised on the road by our dad after our mom died. Dad wanted to hunt the thing that killed her, so he trained us to hunt, too.” He explains, taking a sip of his beer.

“…I’m sorry about your mom.” She replies, relating.

“Thank you.” He nods. “…I’m guessing you started early? The way you fight— you have to have years of experience.”

She doesn’t know if it’s the beers or the compliment that warms the bottom of her stomach.

“…Yup. My— uh, parents got turned into werewolves in front of me. I figured stuff out quick after that.”

Dean’s face is quickly painted with concern. “Jesus. I’m sorry. You were… young?”

“Yeah. Night of my 10th birthday. Then my 16th— I tracked them down and… yeah.”

Dean’s heard hunting stories before, but never something like this.

“You— hunted them?”

“…My first kills.” She nods.

“Fuck, Babe. That’s way too much for a kid to go through on their own. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, shaking her head. Even though she has on a brave face, Dean sees that the subject affects her. “Everyone gets into hunting somehow, right? Sometimes it sucks more than usual.”

He huffs a laugh in disbelief. “You are like, a certified badass. You know that?”

She just shakes her head before finishing off her beer. “…another round?”

An hour later, the two hunters are outside, leaning on their respective vehicles and chatting. Babe lights a cigarette.

“So— I feel like we worked well together today.” Dean says, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Mhm.” Is what Babe responds with, more interested in her cigarette than the conversation.

Dean blinks. “I guess what I’m asking is would you wanna work together again?”

She shrugs, taking a final long drag from her cig before snuffing it out under her boot.

“I mean, you have my number.”

She turns and hops in her truck, her curly hair entering after she does.

As the sound of her engine disappears down the street, Dean catches himself missing her. At least he has her number.

#cowboy thoughts #Man In The Wilderness #MITW chapter 1 #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #babe oc #spn oc #spn oc fic #babe spn oc #my oc #my fic #I FINALLY FINISHED GUYS #PLEASE TAKE THIS OUT OF MY DRAFTS #Babe oc x Dean #bb x dw #oc x cc #oc x canon

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wheresmynaya · 11 months ago

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Blame it on the Mistletoe Ch.5 | Brittana

A/N - Apologies for the delay, it's been a busy week for me! I'm a tad behind so thanks for your sticking around. Hope you all have a lovely holiday celebrating it in the best way that brings you joy! I found title inspo from the song Blame it on the Mistletoe so make sure you blast it at some point!

If you're feeling generous and would like to show your appreciation a little differently this week, consider sending a coffee my way through Ko-Fi: wheresmynaya.

Thanks yall!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Four long days have gone by since Santana last saw Brittany at the Understudy. It's not that she's actively avoiding her – okay maybe she is. What she did with the waffles that night was meant to be a big fuck you but really, it awakened something entirely different. It reminded her of little tricks they would play on each other, tricks that would lead to stolen kisses in the walk-in or quickies in the backseat of Brittany's car. It's exactly why she needs to keep her distance. For them, there's a very fine line between doing petty things to irk the other person and flirting.

The whole reasons Santana and Brittany even started talking was because Brittany would secretly move all of Santana's prep to the top shelf where she knew Santana couldn't reach. It was supposed to be her way of getting Santana to ask her for help because she had this crush. It went on for weeks, Santana would get so pissed about it – threatening every other line chef except Brittany since she was too innocent to do such a thing. Brittany thought it was hilarious until she caught Santana scaling the wire shelving trying to get things down herself. She nearly plummeted to her death from the two-foot drop if it wasn't for Brittany being in the right place at the right time.

From then on, they did little things to get back at each other – nothing ever too serious because it was all about the teasing. It became their love language and Santana knows from personal experience how easy it is to fall into that pattern with her again.

Scary thing is that she is starting to want to.

For good measure, Santana avoids Market Days since they seem to be a hotspot for them and instead sends Quinn in her place. Miss Maggie isn't happy about it, but she still sends Quinn back to the restaurant with a little treat in hopes it'll entice Santana to venture out.

It's tempting, but Santana stays put. She can't go jumping into things just because she misses being with Brittany. For all she knows, it might be the holidays playing with her head. If only there was some sign that could point her in the right direction!

"Hey Santana," Rachel greets as she enters the kitchen. "There's a VIP out here wanting to see you."

Santana grumbles to herself; this isn't the kind of sign she was talking about.

"Stop calling Brittany a VIP."

"She's not – "

"Rachel, I don't want to see her." Santana turns her back on Rachel in favor of continuing her last few checks before service starts. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't race a little knowing Brittany was out there though.

"I'll let her know then," Rachel says before heading back out to the front of house. The peace lasts for less than a minute before Rachel returns. "Sorry Santana, she's insisting."

"So am I!" Santana snaps as she whirls around. "Service starts in twenty minutes and we have actual VIPs booked in tonight. One of them could be a reviewer so I don't have time for this!"

Rachel lifts her hands in defense and backs away slowly. "Okay, I'll let her know."

"Thank you." Santana returns to the Pass and continues her work in silence. She can feel her crew's eyes on her but she ignores it so she can focus.

"Hey, you can't go back there!" It's Rachel's voice followed by the sound of the doors being slammed open again.

Santana looks up worriedly only to find Chef Holly Holliday is the one busting through the doors with Rachel close behind.

"This how you treat your beloved mentor?" Holly asks through a smirk. "Where's my welcome wagon?"

"Shit. Sorry, Chef." Santana scrambles to meet Holly halfway.

"See?" Rachel argues. "I told you it wasn't Brittany."

"You did not say that," Santana counters. "You said it was a VIP."

"Am I not?" Holly asks.

"You are, we're just on high alert right now," Santana explains.

"I will return to the host stand then," Rachel grumbles. "Lovely to meet you, Chef Holliday."

Santana lets out a deep sigh, feeling only somewhat more relaxed now that she realizes the VIP was actually Holly.

"Damn, busy night? Why are you so tense?" Holly asks as she goes in for a hug. "You love pressure cookers like this."

"I do, normally. There's a lot of buzz around the new menu but it seems like everyone is trying to throw me off my game," Santana explains. "It's hard to stay focused when personal life keeps finding its way in."

"You mean Brittany?" Holly asks. "You two still haven't squashed things yet?"

"It's complicated."

"You guys didn't seem to have any trouble uncomplicating it at the awards ceremony," Holly jokes. "Being around you two like that, it was like no time had passed at all!"

Santana remembers the night well, how she and Brittany easily reconnected…in more ways than one. She remembers thinking how easy it was to pick up from where they left off, how for a brief moment she could forgive her for leaving and maybe they could move past it.

But then the news about the restaurant broke and the happy bubble burst and she's been struggling to adjust since then. Meanwhile, Brittany can just offer jobs and give all the right kind of feedback on her menu without any remorse? Not a chance, no matter how charming she can be!

"What brings you all the way out here?" Santana asks, avoiding the topic of Brittany.

"Just making my rounds before the New Year. Pop-Up's is slammed with catering events but I was in the area. I thought I'd check on my girls while I'm here," Holly answers. "Although, I thought you two would've been back together already so I could make this trip a two for one."

"Well, we are definitely not together."

"Why the hell not?"

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"Is this about the restaurant?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Santana pulls Holly aside, moving further away from the line chefs so they don't overhear. "Do we really need to talk about this now?"

"Uh yeah, we do," Holly replies like it's obvious. "How are you still mad about that, I thought you'd be happy for her?"

"You clearly don't know me very well," Santana quips.

"Come on, you know she would've told you about it sooner if she could."

"So why didn't she?"

Holly tilts her head to the side, looking confused.

"We told each other everything. She wasn't just my girlfriend; she was my best friend. How could she keep so much from me?" Santana takes a settling breath to calm herself down. "I'm not sure I even know how to move past this, what she did hurt."

"Oh I know it did, honeybun. And I mean, if you have already talked things out and heard Brittany's side of the story then there's not much else you can do," Holly explains. "Time will have to fix the rest, I guess?"

Santana looks around guiltily.

Holly picks up on it instantly. "What?"

"We haven't actually talked. I mean, we have – just not in depth."

"Seriously?" Holly quirks a brow. "So you don't know anything about her job or her psychotic boss?"

Santana gulps. "No?"

"Girl…you two need to talk! Actually no, you need to let her talk. It's no wonder you're still holding a grudge!"

"I don't hold grudges," Santana grumbles. "I don't know why people keep saying that."

"Because you do," Holly laughs. "God, this makes so much sense now! I didn't think you would actually write Britt off for what she had to do."

"What did she have to do?"

"That is not my story to tell," Holly replies. "Look, I won't keep you because I'm getting hungry and you need to get back to work but listen up – make some time for her."

Santana scoffs. "Yeah, I don't think we're even on speaking terms right now."

"Just try," Holly tells her. "Resist the urge to be a stubborn pain in the ass that you love being. Now I'm gonna love you and leave you." Holly steps forward to give Santana one last hug. "Knock'em dead tonight, Sweet Cheeks."

Santana spends the rest of service thinking about what Holly said. It's the first she has heard of a psychotic boss so her interest is piqued. What she seems to be having trouble with is finding the time to talk to Brittany.

Or rather, making the time to do it – her pride involved afterall so she isn't really rushing to reach out and find out she has misunderstood this whole thing. She already feels like an ass for how things went down the other night.

Two days later, Santana is going through the deliveries ensuring everything that was ordered actually turned up. It's a small load today so it takes her no time at all to process everything. With the extra free time, she decides to get a jump on breaking down the lobsters for tonight.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Chef." Santana looks up to find the kitchen gardener, Joe, lingering at the back exit of the kitchen. "There's a strange woman out here rooting through the garden."

"Okay? Why are you telling me this? Get rid of her."

"I tried."

"Try harder?"

"I can't. She said she's looking for someone you've kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? What the hell?"

"I don't know," Joe looks around worriedly. "Do you think I should call the sheriff?"

"Please, Snixx will handle this," She says as she puts down her knife and pulls off her apron.

"Snixx?"

"Don't worry about it." Santana brushes him off. "Where's she at?"

Joe leads the way outside while Santana stomps the whole way behind him. She expected this type of interruption in the city because there are all walks of life out there, but here? This is the country. Everyone knows everyone and the little shit-head kids don't have the balls to mess with her so what the hell is going on?

"She's in there." Joe points to his shed.

Santana can hear the rummaging around and for a split second, she wonders if she should've brought some type of weapon to defend herself with. Snixx is prone to verbal takedowns, not so much the physical. But she's not backing down, so she looks around and grabs a nearby rake to wield instead.

"Okay, I'm going in," Santana says aloud.

"You want back up?"

"You couldn't even handle her on your own. You should probably sit this one out."

"Good call. I'll have my phone ready."

"Wonderful." Santana takes a deep breath and tightens her grip on the rake. She knocks the tip of the handle against the shed. "Yo! You've got five seconds to come out before I go all Lima Heights on your sorry – "

The door whips open and Santana's standing so close, she nearly gets hit with it. Thankfully, her awesome reflexes kick in and she's able to dodge the door.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind, lady?"

"What have you done with him?" Brittany accuses.

"Britt?" Santana's face screws up with confusion. "What are you doing in our shed?"

"You know why I'm here!" Brittany snaps. It's the angriest Santana has ever seen her. "I know I'm on your shit list right now, but you didn't have to take it out on PB."

"PB?" Santana sets down the rake. "I'm so lost right now…who or what is PB?"

"My pig!" Brittany explains. "You kidnapped my pig."

"Now why the hell would I want to do that?" Santana laughs but Brittany only glares back. "No seriously, why would I want your pig?"

"Because you do petty things when you're pissed," Brittany says. "You could've at least had the decency to send a ransom letter or something."

"Believe me, Britt. I didn't take your pig," Santana replies. "That is way too much work. Where would I even hide a pig here?"

"Spoken like a true thief," Brittany quips before returning to her search. "I've already found a clue so save your alibi for the judge."

Santana's flabbergasted.

Meanwhile, Joe trails behind Brittany, fixing up all the pots and bags of soil she has upturned on her hunt for said clues. Santana's at a loss as she watches Brittany continue her hunt. It's like watching a car accident, she can't look away.

"Okay Britt, stop." Santana finally says when she starts heading for the firewood shed. At first Brittany brushes her off and keeps walking but Santana tugs on her jacket to get her to stop.

"Why on Earth would I still a pig?" Santana asks. "Is he meant to be a special on your menu or something?"

"No way! PB isn't just a pig, he's a friend," Brittany explains. "He came with the restaurant so he's like our mascot. He's also a great listener."

"I see." Santana sees that fearful look in her eye, she's actually pretty hurt about this.

"I'm supposed to take care of him," Brittany tells her. "Now he's gone and everyone's really worried."

"I can tell." Santana nods over to a couple tree stumps and gestures for Brittany to sit. "I honestly have nothing to do with the disappearance of your pig."

Brittany watches her for a moment before relaxing. "I believe you."

"Okay good because I cannot have you spreading rumors that I've kidnapped someone. People might think I've gone all Sweeny Todd."

"True. Although that would be pretty on brand for the Understudy," Brittany says through a tiny smile. It doesn't stay for long though. "I have to find him, San."

"Look I'm sure he's just taking a leisurely stroll through the countryside," Santana says optimistically. It seems so out of character for her to be the one to planting a seed of hope, that's usually Brittany's job, but she can tell she needs it. "Pigs roam, right? And we work in a beautiful area so it makes sense for him to do a little sight-seeing. Or maybe he's visiting his extended pig family, it is the holidays after all."

"Or he's been murdered."

Santana's jaw drops at Brittany's deadpan. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Brittany hangs her head low. "Anything could've happened."

"That's right," Santana agrees. "But that doesn't necessarily mean the worst thing did."

Brittany only shrugs. "I guess. This is all my fault. I was the last one to see him…alive. I must've forgotten to lock the gate on my way out."

The way she looks so distraught and helpless, Santana would give anything to make it better – she's just not sure what that is. Well, she knows but kissing the worries away probably wouldn't go down so well considering she was just the number one suspect ten minutes ago.

But damn, does she want to give it a try anyway.

"I have to get back to work but I'll keep a lookout for PB," Santana tells her as she stands. She holds her hand out, waiting for a sulking Brittany to take it. "Come on, I'll walk you back."

The short walk back is spent in silence, but Santana can tell the gears in Brittany's head are working overtime. Who would've known she could be so stressed over a lost pig? She thinks about what Holly said too and wonders if this is the universe's sick way of forcing her and Brittany together. The last thing on Brittany's mind would be taping together the scraps of their relationship though.

"Let me know if you hear anything," Brittany says as they get to her car. "PB loves his veggies so keep an eye on your compost pile."

"I will," Santana says. "And you, don't go lurking in the Joe's shed anymore. I almost hit you over the head with a rake."

"I won't. I'm sorry for scaring him. I'm also sorry for accusing you."

"That's okay," Santana shrugs. "Things between us have been weird so I get why you'd think it was me. I wasn't very nice to you the last time you were here."

"I've seen you not play nice, that wasn't it."

"Oh, have I lost my touch?"

Brittany chuckles. "Maybe?"

"So you're saying should've gone with my gut and made you an eggs royale?"

"I was a little disappointed I didn't get to try your galette, but the waffles were very tasty – even if I despise them. I know you're capable of being way worse, so I'll take it." Brittany jokes. "But if you are looking to redeem yourself, I know a great place where you can."

Santana suddenly feels warm all over. This right here, this is why she needs to keep her distance! She feigns annoyance although she's sure a smile gives her away. "Don't say your restaurant."

"I wasn't going to but glad to know you're thinking of it still!"

Later that night, Santana ventures outside toting a bucket of veggie scraps. The chatter from the kitchen can be heard as the door hangs open in the breeze. There's enough light to illuminate a path and she peers around to make sure no ones watching before she sets the scrap bucket up on the tree stump she and Brittany sat on earlier.

"PB!" She calls out. "I have some of your favorites, I think? PB!"

She listens for any rustling or the telltale signs of a pig nearing, but nothing. She can't believe she's actually doing this as she calls out to him again. Even in the midst of their feuding and awkwardness, Santana's still wrapped around Brittany's finger.

Santana arrives to work later than usual a few days later in preparation for the weekly meeting she has with Kurt and Rachel. They talk about important stuff like sales and revenue and making sure Santana stays within her budget. It's draining but necessary; that doesn't keep Santana from dragging her feet to attend.

However, this time Rachel opens up the meeting with exciting news. She tells Santana that the Understudy will be hosting a huge Christmas event this year unlike any other and it's likely that it'll be a sellout thanks to the latest menu! Apparently they've teamed up with an awesome marketing team who are on top of their game and they're already receiving so many requests for a booking! It's great news for the business, even more so for Santana. Lately she's been feeling off, distracted by this pig thing and Brittany – it'll be nice to refocus her attention on her work.

"I can't wait to start the planning," Rachel beams. "I have so many ideas already!"

"Hang on, I thought we said we'll work on that together?" Kurt asks.

"Shouldn't someone who actually celebrates Christmas be in charge?" Santana chimes in.

"I'll have you both know that although I don't celebrate Christmas, I am excellent at throwing parties with a theme," Rachel explains.

"Who told you that and were they on your payroll?"

"Many people have said that to me, Santana and no they were not on my payroll. Also, while we're on the topic of holiday parties – you haven't rsvp'd to our staff party." Rachel passes Santana an ornate invitation, one she has thrown out several times because it keeps reappearing. "We really need to lock in numbers for the caterers."

"Oh sorry." Santana takes the paper and scribbles over the NO box then passes it back. "There you go."

"Santana, you've checked the wrong box."

"Pretty sure I didn't."

"What?" Kurt cries out when he spots the NO. "You have to come!"

"I need to stay focused, especially now that we have this Christmas event. We haven't even talked about the menu or seating times or what the number of bookings will be. There's a lot left to prepare."

"One party won't kill you," Kurt reasons.

"If Rachel's hosting, you never know. Remember how she tried poisoning me last time?"

"She did not," Kurt insists.

"That's right. You ate a bad oyster."

"Given to me by who?" Santana glares before pointing her finger at Rachel. "You."

"I swore it was a reputable supplier, I'm sorry!"

"You might as well get them from a grocery store," Santana complains. "I'm sure it'll be a fun night for everyone else though. I'm perfectly fine sitting this one out."

"You can't be alone on Christmas though," Kurt reasons. "That's just sad."

He has a point; outside of work, there's no one. It used to be Brittany before things went bad. She realizes this'll be the first Christmas they won't spend together and the thought actually pains her.

Santana always loved the holidays, especially Christmas. Not because of the presents or the shopping deals, she loved how the family always came together. She loved the special dishes her abuela would cook and how it felt catching up with her cousins. She loved the sense of belonging; she loved the warmth.

But living so far away from her actual family and being too busy with work to visit meant that Santana had to miss out on a lot. Thankfully, her family understands the nature of her job but still that melancholy feeling never truly goes away.

It wasn't until she and Brittany became a thing that the feeling began to return.

Despite the busy schedules and exhaustion, Brittany always found a way to sprinkle in the holiday magic. That was love, pure love. It may not be the same as being surrounded by a big family, but it didn't matter. Being surrounded by Brittany was enough.

When Santana thinks about it now, there's no reason they can't have that again. The only one standing in their way is her.

On the third night of PB's disappearance, Quinn goes out for a smoke break and catches Santana in the middle of an attempt at pig-calling. Quinn nearly wets herself with laughter meanwhile Santana is pulling out every excuse in the book to explain what she's doing.

Ultimately, she really can't talk her way out of it and ends up telling Quinn about Brittany and how distraught she is over this pig.

"Okay, so you're back together?" Quinn asks.

"No, we're not back together. I'm just helping a friend."

"Friend? I thought she was your competitor?"

"Por qué no los dos? I don't know!"

Quinn smirks at Santana's obvious floundering as she takes a drag of her cigarette. "You must care a lot about her if you're out here in the middle of the night, cold, missing family meal."

Santana only crosses her arms. "Are you going to help me or just stand there and judge?"

"I'm perfectly fine here, Chef. Thank you."

"Come on, you're already here. You might as well do something useful," Santana complains. "You grew up on a farm. What am I doing wrong?"

"It was a lemon orchard," Quinn corrects. "We didn't have pigs so I have no idea. Pretty sure the oinking you were doing before isn't it though."

"I was not oinking."

"Sounded like it. I have a recording if you want to see?" Quinn starts to take out her phone.

"No you don't," Santana scrambles to see. "Delete it right now!"

Turns out Quinn's full of shit when Santana finds there isn't actually a video of her calling out to PB.

"Should've seen your face!" Quinn laughs. "Priceless."

"You suck so bad, Quinn Fabray."

Despite Santana solely spearheading the search party, Rachel is the one who actually finds PB early the following morning. Santana's barely awake to register the news although Rachel's practically screaming down the line at her to come help.

"I cannot have this, Santana! Our work Christmas party is tonight and I cannot have a pig in attendance! That's just absurd and unhygienic! You need to come help us get rid of it right now!"

In any other circumstance, what the hell was Santana going to do about a pig running amuck in the kitchen garden and why was the first person Rachel thought to call her?

When she arrives onsite, Rachel and Kurt stand with Joe on the outskirts of the garden watching who she assumes is PB rolling around in veg scraps. Rachel and Kurt look like they're seconds away from pulling their hair out while Joe looks around confused.

"Has anyone called Brittany?" Santana asks as she joins the group.

"Why would we call Brittany?" Rachel asks. "This is a pig."

"I don't know, you called me and it's not like I'm a pig wrangler," Santana mutters. "I think he belongs to her though."

"How were we supposed to know that?" Kurt asks. "It's not like he's wearing a collar."

"Actually, I think he is." Joe points to the pig's neck and sure enough, there is one.

"I can't believe I got out of bed for this," Santana groans. "None of you could've spotted that before waking me?"

"Sorry Santana," Rachel says.

"You should be. Now one of you can call Brittany and tell her to come get her pet so I can go back to bed."

"Aren't you two friends?" Kurt asks. "Why don't you call her?"

"No way, we're – " Santana is quick to shut him down but finds herself pausing.

She's nowhere near ready to face the day yet, let alone Brittany. But on the other hand…She's spent nearly a week secretly looking for this pig and now that she's found him, it would make sense for her to finish the job and reunite him with his owner.

So what if her hair is a little messier than normal and what if her ratty old sleep shirt and shorts are the only things she's wearing under her heavy coat? It's not like she cares about how she looks if she's going to see Brittany, then again it's not like she hasn't seen her like this before?

"Fuck it." Santana suddenly makes up her mind. "I'll do it."

While Joe and company coaxed PB onto his trailer and have it hitched up to the work truck, Santana goes to her office to pick up a couple things where she then paced the room wondering why the hell she offered to see Brittany alone.

Once upon a time, the thought of being alone with Brittany was the only thing that got her through a long shift. Now, she's riddled with nerves – the good kind or the bad, she's not sure. She spends the next ten minutes convincing herself that it's neither – this is purely a business transaction.

It's a short drive to Brittany's restaurant but it takes her twice as long with PB in the back. She's actually never been to the restaurant, she's only familiar with the raggedy old barn that used to be there, but as she pulls into the driveway, she's pleasantly surprised by what she sees.

What she can only assume is the raggedy old barn has been completely transformed! There's still the rustic charm associated with being out in the country, the weathered wood and brick, but new iron accents elevate it into something more contemporary. From the outside, the place looks amazing!

"Santana?" Brittany calls out as she comes around the side of the building. She's wearing that familiar beanie again and the tips of her nose and cheeks are rosy from the chill. "What are you – oh my God, you found PB!"

She sprints over to the trailer and as Santana comes around. "He was rooting through our veg scraps. He scared the shit out of Rachel and Kurt."

"I told you he loves his vegetables!" Brittany replies as she gives the pig a loving pat on the side. When she looks at Santana, there's so much adoration in her eyes that it makes Santana want to start pacing again. "Thanks for bringing him home, Santana. I've been so worried."

"Yeah well, you should be thankful he was close by," Santana replies dismissively although the butterflies in her stomach flutter about. "Babe could've easily been roasting on an open fire by now."

Brittany gasps and does her best to cover PB's ears. "He can hear you!"

"Good! Maybe that'll scare him straight and he won't go wandering around anymore," Santana replies. "Seems like he's got a pretty good life here. Maybe he shouldn't fuck it up just because he feels like traveling."

Brittany side-eyes PB, ultimately agreeing with Santana. "I guess she's right. It's your lucky day, sir."

When PB bows his head, Santana starts to wonder if he really can understand what they're saying. Maybe it was just coincidence?

"Could you unlock the gate?" Brittany asks. "I'll get him back to his pen."

Santana nods and goes around to the tailgate. She can feel Brittany's eyes on her and that has her fumbling to get the latch undone. She blames her trembling hands on the cold though. Brittany goes off to unload PB from the trailer.

Thankfully Santana has to do minimal work. She's still only running on a few hours of sleep, no caffeine, and she was rudely awakened by Rachel of all people. It hasn't been a great start to her morning. Seeing Brittany so overcome with happiness because she's finally reunited with her piggy friend and Santana being the reason for that reunion might just make up for all that.

"What's PB stand for anyway?" Santana wonders. "Peanut Butter?"

"What's peanut butter have to do with a pig?" Brittany laughs as if she didn't once tell Santana she used to have a cat named Lord Tubbington when she was a kid.

"I don't know? That's the first thing that came to mind," Santana explains.

"It stands for Pork Butt," Brittany answers.

"Oh wow…"

Brittany only giggles as she guides PB around the building. After Brittany secures PB in his pen, she joins Santana over by the entry of the restaurant. Santana's staring up the at the sign – she hadn't known the name of Brittany's restaurant before today; she didn't want to purely out of stubbornness or spite. But now, she stares at the letters that form the word she and Brittany used to toss around together when they dreamed of opening their own place.

To see it now, come to life, and looking the way it does…Santana isn't sure how to feel and there's no time to dwell on it as Brittany returns.

"PB is safe and sound," Brittany says. "The only way he's getting out of there is if he learns to fly."

"Great. I'll head off then."

"Wait, don't you want to come in?" Brittany asks. The hope is unmissable, the same could be said about her sudden bashfulness. "This is your first time here, it's not how I planned it but you're here and I'd love to show you around."

Santana looks up at the wooden doors and it's oddly inviting – like she's being drawn in or tempted, probably tempted. Brittany's there batting her eyelashes, hope brimming. She can't deny that she's curious about the interior, wondering if it's just as aesthetic as the outside.

What color scheme did she go with? What type of tables and chairs? Is it an open concept? Does it look anything like what they used to daydream about together?

"You're calling it The Stix," Santana mentions.

"I thought it was fitting," Brittany replies. "We always talked about opening up a place off the beaten path, in the sticks. We wanted fine dining but make it feel like customers are at home for Sunday dinner. We wanted warmth and good food and we wanted to do it somewhere that deserves more recognition – like here."

Santana takes a deep breath. "But you named it The Stix. That was our name that we picked together. You did this without me."

"You were all I thought about when I did this," Brittany explains.

"And yet, you never thought to call me?"

"I couldn't!"

"You keep saying that…"

"Because it's true," Brittany explains. "Everything happened so quickly once I came back; I didn't have time to catch you up, all I could do was act fast or I'd miss the opportunity. I figured if you saw the name then you'd be just excited as me about this and you'd let me explain."

"I wouldn't really call this excitement, Britt." Santana frowns. "Look at this place, I would've loved doing this with you if you had given me the chance but you didn't. You told me about it once it was already done."

"It's still a work in progress."

"One that you're working on alone."

"I was bound by contract, Santana. I had to do everything alone!"

"Contract?" Santana drops further into confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so now you want me to explain? After all this time?" Brittany shakes her head and laughs angrily. "You're unbelievable."

"Hang on, I'm not the one that's been keeping secrets," Santana counters. "You made this mess. I'm just trying to make sense of it."

"Yes, I know. I'm the one that ruined everything, it's all my fault," Brittany says. It looks as though she's on the brink of tears but they never fall. "You know I could've answered all your questions if you would just let me? I have been trying to make it right ever since that night at the awards ceremony. I have been trying to explain. I have been trying tell you these secrets. I have been trying to fix things but you keep shutting me down. It's like you don't even want this anymore."

"I do want this," Santana says without thinking. "More than anything."

"Then what are we doing?" Brittany asks tiredly. "I understand making me sleep in the doghouse because I know I put you through hell while I was gone. What happens next or is this it? I'm a patient person, but you've got to tell me now if I'm wasting my time because I love you, San. I love you but pushing me away like this…you're just as much to blame now."

Santana only stands there, feeling as though she's just been stung. "I don't know. I'm figuring it out."

"Can't we do that together?" Brittany asks, hope brimming in her pretty blue eyes. One look at her and Santana feels like she could conquer anything – even her own insecurities. "Don't you think we're stronger together?"

"I know we are," Santana says truthfully. She hasn't felt this sure of herself in a long time, especially not when it comes to Brittany.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want – " Santana's interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing. It's Rachel again so she's quick to ignore it but she catches a glimpse of several unread texts from Quinn that can't be as easily ignored. "Oh shit. I'm sorry, I need to go."

"Is everything okay?" Brittany asks as Santana hurries to the truck.

Santana's speed-reading through the missed texts but only finds Quinn uncharacteristically panicked which makes her feel even more uneasy. She spins around to apologize one more time for cutting this short only to find Brittany right on her heels, so close that they collide.

"Shit, sorry," Santana rushes out but Brittany's hand keep her from falling.

"Are you okay to drive?" Brittany asks as she steadies Santana, eyes searching hers for a sign. "Do you want me to come with?"

"No, no. I'm good," Santana assures her.

Brittany looks at her like she's waiting for more. Despite everything, Brittany still cares for her as if nothing has changed. She's still putting her first and that just about puts Santana over the edge.

"Are you sure?" Brittany looks at her warily. "I mean, you look good in your pj's and cute bed-head but you don't look good good."

Who knew a simple sentence could put Santana at ease? Apparently, Brittany because she always knows the right thing to say when it counts.

"I'm sure. For all I know, it's something ridiculous like Kurt has a hangnail or Rachel's annoying Quinn," Santana tells her. She gives into temptation and reaches out to touch Brittany's cheek. It's welcomed warmth against her icy fingertips, she can't help but linger there. "I'm sorry for leaving."

"Hey, that's my line." Brittany's smile is kind as she leans into Santana's palm. "I understand. Duty calls."

Santana pulls away and goes to get settled in the driver's seat. She pauses just after she starts the engine and looks back at Brittany. She knows she should leave but finds herself unwinding the window. Brittany draws closer.

"Changing your mind?"

"It's not that. Rachel and Kurt are putting on this thing tonight at the Understudy," Santana explains. Suddenly she's riddled with nerves but they don't keep her from holding out the olive branch. "I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

"What kind of thing?" Brittany asks through a grin. "Is it a party?"

"Something like that," Santana replies. "There's decorations and food, probably music."

"Sounds very much like a party," Brittany jokes. "Will you be dressing up?"

"I might be," Santana shrugs. "Depends what time the lunch service wraps up. We're all supposed to have an early finish."

"Okay," Brittany finally answers. "Well, I'm supposed to be working the Pass tonight. I gave one of the chefs asked for the night off, her son's first Christmas. I couldn't be a Grinch and say no, not on Christmas Eve."

"Oh," Santana frowns at the sound of her olive branch snapping in two. She hadn't realized Christmas Eve had crept up on her so fast. "That's cool. Don't worry about it."

"I didn't say it was a no." Brittany smirks as Santana backtracks. "It's a maybe."

Santana sits a little taller; she can live with that. "So maybe I'll see you tonight then."

"Maybe you will," Brittany replies. "But if not Merry Christmas, Santana."

"Merry Christmas, Britt."

#Blame it on the Mistletoe #Brittana #Santana Lopez #Brittany S Pierce #Chef Brittana AU #brittana fanfics #fanfiction

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plethoraworldatlas · 10 months ago

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The federal Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service is proposing to spray toxic insecticides within treasured and significant landscapes of the Colorado Plateau in northern Arizona to kill native grasshoppers.

The areas being considered include portions of the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument, and the newly designated Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni – Ancestral Footprints of the Grand Canyon National Monument.

“This is a dangerous plan that could kill creatures that are key to northern Arizona’s unique biodiversity, which these national monuments were designated to protect,” said Taylor McKinnon, Southwest director at the Center for Biological Diversity. “The federal government needs to stop downplaying the extinction crisis and back off its reckless plan to smother biodiversity hotspots with toxic pesticides.”

One out of every 10 plant species in the Colorado Plateau region is found nowhere else on Earth.

The agency's draft environmental assessment omits mention of the national monuments and unique species and habitats they were designated to protect. These species include rare bees, butterflies and other creatures found nowhere else, like the Kaibab monkey grasshopper and House Rock Valley chisel-toothed kangaroo rat, specifically named in the August proclamation establishing the Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni National Monument.

APHIS oversees and funds the application of multiple pesticides on rangelands to prevent native grasshoppers and Mormon crickets from competing with livestock for forage.

The proposed insecticides — carbaryl, diflubenzuron and chlorantraniliprole — are indiscriminate. In addition to the grasshoppers the agency is targeting, the insecticides can also kill bees, moths and other insects. Spraying can harm entire ecosystems by disrupting pollination and can harm populations of birds, reptiles and mammals who feed on grasshoppers and insects.

Although grasshoppers and Mormon crickets can be locally abundant from time to time, native plants and other wildlife evolved with these cycles. Introducing pesticides to eliminate native grasshoppers is a shortsighted, quick fix that fails to consider the complex interrelationships within these delicate ecosystems.

The agency’s draft analysis shows that it has failed to consult with affected Tribes with ties to the Grand Canyon area. The Grand Canyon Tribal Coalition, which proposed the Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni National Monument, includes members of the Havasupai Tribe, Hopi Tribe, Hualapai Tribe, Kaibab Band of Paiute Indians, Las Vegas Tribe of Paiutes, Moapa Band of Paiute Indians, Paiute Indian Tribe of Utah, Shivwits Band of Paiutes, Navajo Nation, San Juan Southern Paiute Tribe, Yavapai-Apache Nation, Zuni Tribe and Colorado River Indian Tribes.

“It’s so important that APHIS honor the promise made to work together with Tribal nations to protect the sacred spaces and resources within the Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni Monument when it was established less than six months ago,” said Sharon Selvaggio, pesticide program specialist with The Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation. “We call on the agency to protect natural systems on Tribal and public lands by employing nonchemical management that allows humans and wildlife to thrive.”

In March 2023 the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency published a draft biological opinion from NOAA Fisheries showing that carbaryl is likely to jeopardize 37 species protected under the Endangered Species Act, and harm 36 designated critical habitats.

While Arizona is not home to any of the species named in that report, the findings show the extreme harm carbaryl poses to endangered fish and other species.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which is charged with protecting endangered plants and animals, has not yet completed a proper analysis of the potential harms from the APHIS proposal. Potentially vulnerable endangered species in Arizona include Chiricahua leopard frogs, western yellow-billed cuckoos, Gila chub, black-footed ferrets and Siler pincushion cacti.

APHIS is accepting comments on the proposal until 4 p.m. MST on Feb. 2.

#ecology #enviromentalism #pesticides #Baaj Nwaavjo I'tah Kukveni Monument #grand canyon #Grand Canyon national monument #Vermillion Cliffs National Monument #arizona #colorado plateau #Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service #APHIS #epa #fish and wildlife #wildlife services #Fuck Wildlife Services #insecticide #endangered species act #endangered species

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ambustested · 10 months ago

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WIP Tag

Tagged by @bairdcrevan

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask/comment with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Forgotten Promise- Megatron//Starscream

Royalty AU- Starscream//Megatron bg Optimus//Elita

Weekend at Starscream's- Continuation of Detestibly Departed, more Starscream//Megatron oriented

Separate Ways- Skyfire//Starscream

Blizzard- Skyfire//Starscream

Vocalizer- Megatron//Starscream

TC and Star- Thundercracker//Starscream

emp- Trine

Skywarp- Skywarp&Starscream

99 Problems- 99 problems sequel

Skystar swap- Starscream//Skyfire

More Starscream in Disguise- Trinefire

Sky and Bee- Skyfire&Bumblebee background Skyfire//Starscream

heat- Megatron//Starscream

Starscream in Disguise- Megatron//Starscream + Trine

Crossfaction Camraderie- Prowl&Starscream

Rescued- Megatron//Starscream

Megastar NSFW- Megatron//Starscream

Pharma caught- Canon divergence, delphi centric

Sixteen Tons- 3rd chapter of 'Sixteen Tons'

Campy Vampy- Megatron//Starscream

Some Skystar Shit- Skyfire//Starscream

Defector ch 4- 4th chapter of 'Defective Defector'

hotspot- various scenes for 'Starscream and Skyfire Make a Baby(Nonsexual)'

Slowburn terribleness- 4th chapter of 'Defective Defector'

TAAO- Canon divergence au

Skystar shitpost- Skyfire//Starscream

Sounding- Skyfire//Starscream

Defective sparkling- Megatron//Starscream

99 problems and all of them are starscream- Megatron//Starscream

Swindle stuff- Something on the cutting room floor saved for later

Starjack- Starscream//Wheeljack

Skystar halloween- Skyfire//Starscream

Post War ch 4- 4th ch of 'One who laughs last'

Sucks 2 suck ch2- self explanatory

Lost light- Windblade//Starscream//Bumblebee

thunderrod- Thunderclash//Rodimus

askew ch 2- self explanatory

gestalt amb angst fic- protector bots centric

nano prewrite- delphi centric canon divergence

Trine2- Intro to wined and trined pt 2

Aidbulon- Ambulon//First Aid

Welp- Notes for next ch of 'One who laughs last'

Caustic- Windblade//Starscream

Stress response- Tarn//Pharma

Still feel- No ship, Starscream centric

I'm bad with fandom friends, esp tumblr facing ones! If you see this and want to do it, please do :) and feel free to tag me

#to write #I have the worst naming habits #yes it does get very confusing

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short-circuit-the-great · 10 months ago

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Dying Sun / A Hundred Thousand Stars / Ch 7 / Solar Refraction

AO3 link | Previous chapter

Windsnarl's recruitment efforts continue, leading her to speak with two robots who have a painful stake in her future.

Chapter 7: Solar Refraction

Windsnarl went looking for people to join what she and Warp Drive had decided to call the Velocitronian Security Force. Simple enough name. Straight to the point.

The first place she tried was the hotspot well in Navitas, which sounded like an odd place to look but she was after someone in particular: the spark harvester Skytracks. Skytracks had never been fond of racing, and the rumors were she was slow, but Windsnarl didn’t care about that. What she did care about was that Skytracks was huge and easily as strong as her, and she could also fly. Dreadsmoke could fly too, also making it useful, but Windsnarl would have to think more about what to do with it. It wouldn’t be seeing attacks from the air, that was for sure.

Skytracks being able to fly, though? Aerial perspective was precisely the purpose Windsnarl had in mind. Air support would be invaluable.

“No,” was Skytracks’s immediate answer, and she was holding a protoforming spark as though she wanted to emphasize how busy she was. “I’m not leaving the well. These sparks will be absorbed back into the hotspot otherwise.”

“Anyone else could do this work,” Windsnarl said.

Skytracks laughed. “Anyone else would use this room as a race track and kill every protoform and brand new sparkling.”

Kill every sparkling.

Windsnarl kept her face expressionless, but a flicker of grief and anger passed through her optics, and Skytracks saw it with the one eye she still had.

“Right,” she said. “The murder. Sorry about that. Good luck making your army or whatever to get revenge on the rest of us. Now leave me alone.”

Windsnarl raised her claws. “I could kill you where you stand, Skytracks of Neo.”

Skytracks loomed over her, staring down at her with her single yellow optic. “Try it.”

Windsnarl’s optics scanned Skytracks’s massive body and her hands that could snap her in half with ease, and she growled and turned away, heading for the door. Skytracks’s plating clicked together as she waved, and she said, “Feel free to take a new sparkling on the way out.”

Windsnarl’s hands clenched into fists and she whirled around and swung at Skytracks, aiming straight for the hole in her face where her other optic used to be. Skytracks caught her fist and moved the protoform to a compartment on her leg for safety. Windsnarl clawed at her with her other hand, only for Skytracks to grab that one too and stare at her.

“I’ll have you know,” Skytracks said, “that I am not particularly attached to robots I didn’t harvest.”

She pushed Windsnarl away, and Windsnarl growled and rubbed her wrists.

“Get out,” Skytracks said. “I don’t need to be fast to rip you in half, though I suppose you’d already know that.”

Windsnarl tensed her legs to jump up and claw Skytracks’s face off, but then she growled again and turned away, walking toward the door. Then she started running and leaped outside, transforming and driving as far away as she could. She left Navitas far, far behind and finally stopped at the edge of the city, and only then did she change back, walking up to the railing to look out over the barren landscape under the setting sun.

She rested her hands on the railing, then her arms, then her head, hiding her face. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry more than anything. But she couldn’t.

Warp Drive, I can’t do this.

But she had to.

They needed a security force. They couldn’t stand by and do nothing while violence swept over Velocitron, something that had only gotten worse in the days since the incident at the launch site. There were reports of people being attacked in Neo, in Umbra, in Glare, even in Windsnarl’s home city of Catalyst, which had always seemed so safe.

And that’s all they were.

Reports.

No one did anything about them because there was no one TO do anything about them, and that had to be fixed, and Windsnarl had to fix it now. She had to find people who were willing to fight, people who were strong enough. But if the strong people weren’t willing to fight, who else was there?

Someone tapped her shoulder. Windsnarl looked over to see Warp Drive, who signed:

That was only one person, and Skytracks is notoriously a huge asshole. Too much time alone in the hotspot wells.

Don’t give up yet.

Windsnarl smiled a little bit and wanted to take her hand, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to, so she looked back at the landscape. Warp Drive did something completely unexpected and ducked under her arm, which made Windsnarl jump. Warp Drive moved away, thinking she’d gone too far, but Windsnarl reached out and pulled her back without even thinking.

MAYBE SHE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT.

But before Windsnarl could move away, Warp Drive moved closer and slipped their hands together.

I have an idea of where to look next, she said.

Where? Windsnarl said.

Warp Drive’s antennae twitched in a way Windsnarl was pretty sure was the equivalent of a smile. The toughest robots are going to be at the-

Seediest bar in town, Windsnarl said when they got there, an absolute hole in the wall in the Delta market. It reminded her of Liquid Lancer’s in Neo, but somehow worse, and the sign was so beat up she couldn’t even read the name. As soon as they entered, rough-looking robots were everywhere, covered in patches of rust and missing paint, some with broken or missing optics, some with mismatched limbs, some with cracked wings and tires so ragged and worn out that they couldn’t possibly last through another race. Everyone was talking and laughing and enjoying their drinks. Some of them played games too, such as darts or a host of card games Windsnarl didn’t care to name. She’d never been good at any of that, though she bet she could throw a dart pretty damn accurately if someone’s optic was the target instead of that stupid board on the wall.

None of these people looked like they were disciplined enough to be in any sort of security force protecting Velocitron and its people, but Windsnarl couldn’t be picky, so she looked around carefully, seeing which robots looked to be the toughest. She kept Warp Drive close by, though everyone was too absorbed in their drinks or conversations or games to pay her any attention.

One very drunk robot leaned back in her chair and made eye contact with Windsnarl, smiling and waving and nearly falling to the floor. She caught herself at the last second and slammed her drink back onto the table, still waving at Windsnarl.

“Sheriff, dude,” the robot said, “is that green thing your Conjunx?”

HUH?

Of all the disrespectful-

TO IMPLY SHE WAS SO UNPROFESSIONALLY CLOSE TO WARP DRIVE.

But that would be nice, wouldn’t it? NO, no, it wouldn’t. Windsnarl couldn’t think like that, especially not after what happened with Snowcrush. She wasn’t going through that again, not for anything. And this was the First Senator. Have some respect.

When we are together, we are the same.

Meet me as a fellow Velocitronian.

Aaaaand those words complicated things. Because that made it possible that thinking this way WAS fine, despite everything that happened, and that Warp Drive even welcomed it, which she most certainly did not.

Then why did she grab my arm like that earlier?

To talk to her, obviously!

But she got way closer than she needed to and I liked it and she liked it too.

NO THINKING LIKE THAT.

NOT ALLOWED.

Windsnarl was so caught up in trying to suppress whatever THAT was that she completely missed where this robot had called Warp Drive “that green thing.” It finally registered and Windsnarl raised her claws, moving closer to the robot. She didn’t care if this person was drunk. Warp Drive was the First Senator. No one was going to call her “that green thing.”

“She’s so pretty,” the robot said, dragging out the last word. “She also reeeally looks like the First Senator.”

“She is the First Senator,” Windsnarl said coldly, and she completely forgot to say that Warp Drive was also NOT her Conjunx, but it was too late.

“Sheriff Windsnarl pulled the First Senator!” the drunk robot yelled to the entire bar, and everyone went nuts.

Well, almost everyone. There was a group in the corner of the bar that was yelling and cheering about something else, and Windsnarl, who wanted nothing more than to jump into the solar storms at this point, turned her attention over there.

“Excuse me,” she said, and she moved in that direction, Warp Drive following closely.

“You two are the only ones doing anything!” the drunk robot called after them. “Please get married!”

What?

Windsnarl abandoned the event in the corner for a moment to turn back to the drunk robot, who still needed to be punched in the face for the “green thing” comment anyway. (But she HAD said Warp Drive was pretty, so perhaps it wasn’t malicious at all, but Windsnarl should still treat it that way, right?) “What do you mean we’re the only ones doing anything?” she said.

“About the violence,” the drunk robot said. “People have been getting attacked all over Velocitron by these crime groups—don’t know why, and it’s kinda always been a problem, but it got super bad out of nowhere.”

Windsnarl saw Photon’s blood flying through the air again, and she blinked and said, “Yeah, it did.”

“Heard you’re building something to deal with it,” the drunk robot said as she took another sip, like she needed that in any way. “You taking applications?”

Windsnarl finally put her claws away. “Yes, we are actively recruiting. What is your experience?”

“Mm, hardly sober enough for an interview,” the robot said. “But my name’s Lionstrike.”

She waved at the other robots at her table, all equally drunk. “Starlane, Mirrorbreaker, Bullet Train, Torpedo, and Hammerfist. We’ve all lost a friend or a Conjunx or a limb—that’s why we’re drunk, hehe!”

There was nothing funny about that.

“Happy to join,” Lionstrike said. “Let us know where to—hic—go and we’ll pull up when we can think straight. Hehehehe.”

She turned to the others, took a long sip of her drink, and slammed it back down, yelling, “Guys, all my friends are dead. I was forced to watch.”

They all started laughing, and Windsnarl stepped away, struggling not to think about Photon. God, it was so hard not to think about Photon. But Warp Drive was here and Windsnarl was able to stay tethered to reality when she brushed her tail against her, though only by a thread.

“The Citadel,” Windsnarl said to the drunk robots. “Come to the Citadel tomorrow. I will be waiting.”

“Yeah, dude,” Lionstrike said, and Windsnarl finally walked away.

No matter how much she wanted to go home right now, she couldn’t, and she was going to see what was going on in that corner, where the robots were still cheering for something. She had six recruits now, but six recruits was not enough. She needed far more.

And maybe that corner would have some.

When Windsnarl got there, she pushed her way to the front of the group right as a robot’s arm was crushed into the table and everyone erupted into more cheering. The giant hand closed around his own let go of him, and as the robot rubbed his hand and turned away with a scowl, the same giant hand whacked him on the back. It was big enough to cover the entire surface.

“Better luck next time,” said a voice like exploding stars—rough and broken, but a powerful sort of broken, like the way an avalanche was tumbling fragments of a mountain.

Windsnarl looked up. And up. And up. And up some more. And up a lot more. And there behind the table, which was bent significantly in the middle and would likely not last much longer, was the biggest robot Windsnarl had ever seen. The only ones she’d seen that were bigger than that were the combiners from Cybertron, and those were essentially multiple robots in a trench coat. This was one robot. One massive, shiny golden robot, bright like the sun and with optics like the red Energon some people used to cheat at racing.

“Who’s next?” the giant robot said as a much smaller one collected a few coins from the robot who’d just lost. “Wrangle, you want to try?”

The coin collecting robot put the coins in a jar and shook her head. “No. My glorious mind reading powers tell me you’re planning to throw me straight out the window.”

“Come on, I only did that to the first guy,” the giant robot said with a grin. “And your glorious mind reading powers are not real.”

“Are too!”

“What am I thinking right now?”

“Wrangle snores funny,” Wrangle said with a long sigh, and the giant robot cackled.

“You’re right, but at what cost?” she said with a snicker. “Get over here.”

Wrangle went over to her and the giant robot lifted her up so they could touch their foreheads together. For that moment, they looked happier than Windsnarl had ever seen anyone, and then the giant robot set her down and cracked her knuckles, a sound like thunder.

Then her optics landed on Windsnarl.

“You,” the giant robot said. “You look strong. Arm wrestle me.”

“I’m not here for that,” Windsnarl said. “I need your strength for another task.”

The robots gathered around the broken table began to move away, and the giant robot laughed under her breath and slowly stood up. The blades on her back rattled as they fanned out, scraping the ceiling and leaving long scratch marks. When she was fully standing, she had to lean over so she wouldn’t crash straight through the ceiling and out the roof, and she slammed her hands onto the table, breaking what was left of it. She settled for crouching on one knee, still towering over everyone present, and Windsnarl noticed two long poles attached to her legs—were they missiles?

No, she realized when Wrangle handed the giant robot a massive sword and then another. They were scabbards, and it looked like there was no way the swords would fit, but mass displacement allowed them to click back into place, put away for now but ready at the hip if there was a need to draw.

“Now what task could the First Senator have for someone like me?” the giant robot said as her optics rolled over to Warp Drive.

“We’re building a security force to address the outburst of violent crime all over the planet,” Windsnarl said, “and we need strong people to join.”

The giant robot snorted with laughter and whacked Wrangle’s shoulder, though Windsnarl noticed she held back significantly. “They want me to be a cop,” the giant robot said. “Upholding the law and bending it however I please.”

“The second part is not true,” Windsnarl said. “The law is never bent.”

“It’s not?” the giant robot said. “That’s news to me.”

Her optics burned into Windsnarl’s. “Tell me, Sheriff—how long until you turn against the very people you set out to protect? Fighting violence with more violence, hurting them worse than they hurt us—how long until you go from protecting Velocitron to crushing it beneath your claws? Not long, I will bet, and when it happens, I will never stop working to bring your regime crashing down.”

“No one said anything about a regime,” Windsnarl said. “I only want us to be able to protect ourselves, and Velocitron as it stands is not strong enough.”

“And you’ll do anything to make it strong enough,” the giant robot said. “Absolutely anything. I know what kind of person you are—my Cybertronian friend here says you have the optics of someone she knows.”

Wrangle didn’t make eye contact, only whispering a name Windsnarl almost missed over the sound of the rest of the bar carrying on with their conversations.

“Megatron.”

Windsnarl had heard this name before. He was a revolutionary on Cybertron, standing up to the functionist regime there. What was so bad about that? Megatron saw things could be better and was working to change them. Windsnarl was doing the same thing.

All she wanted was a stronger Velocitron.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Windsnarl said. “If you aren’t going to join us, then we will be leaving now.”

“My name is Suncatcher,” the giant robot said. “I expect to meet again.”

Suncatcher. Why did that sound like a name that was going to haunt Windsnarl for the rest of her life? She didn’t think any more about it and left the bar with Warp Drive, who grabbed her hand and said:

We got a few people. It wasn’t a total loss.

Windsnarl agreed, but it was still unfortunate that both Skytracks and Suncatcher had refused. And they were both incredibly threatening about it too.

How long until you go from protecting Velocitron to crushing it beneath your claws?

Never. Windsnarl wouldn’t do that.

And Warp Drive wouldn’t either.

Building the Security Force proved to continue to be a struggle. Windsnarl put advertisements calling for recruits all over the Delta market, and Warp Drive helped her distribute them in Neo as well. The rest of the senate was atrociously unhelpful, and the only senator who distributed any advertisements in their own city was Burnout, though she made her guards do it.

That was when Windsnarl realized she was a dumbass.

The guards, she said to Warp Drive. We just have to train the guards. That will make up a huge portion of the Security Force.

Recruitment efforts were still a good idea, but they had many, many guards all over Velocitron, at least a thousand for each Citadel and two thousand for the Delta Citadel due to its size and importance. That was huge, at least compared to the six recruits they’d started with in the bar.

You’re going to train that many people? Warp Drive said. I don’t doubt your abilities, Windsnarl-

She said her name she said her name why did Windsnarl like that so much what was going on.

-but that is too much work for one person, Warp Drive said.

Who else can train them? Windsnarl said. The two people I was going to ask to help with this both refused.

And one more too—Windsnarl had sought out a particular patron at Liquid Lancer’s. Lancer himself had said no, but he was no stronger than the typical racer. No, Windsnarl wanted the person who was always drinking there, a fellow part-Predacon named Grizzly, more commonly referred to as Grizz. He was big and strong and, of course, like the two other big and strong robots Windsnarl spoke to, he refused to join the Security Force.

Dustbrawl knows how to fight, Warp Drive said. Ask her for help.

Dustbrawl fights for fun, Windsnarl said. She has never killed anyone. She will need to kill for this job.

She can learn, Warp Drive said. Work with her first, and when she learns to kill, have her train the others alongside you.

How can I change a person’s entire philosophy? Windsnarl said. It’s a game to her, remember? No one dies in games.

Tell her this is a new game, Warp Drive said, in which the only way to win is to kill. If your opponent gets up again, they can hurt you again. Dustbrawl will learn to finish them.

Anyone can change, Windsnarl.

Especially for the worse.

And for the worse is what we need.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers dying sun #tf fan continuity #transformers fanfiction #writers on tumblr #oc: warp drive #oc: windsnarl #oc: suncatcher #oc: skytracks #warpsnarl #ao3 writer

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pinkykats-place · 2 years ago

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BakuDeku nsfw 💐 flower shop au

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked are mine.

All contain mature content.Read tags. Credit to @catskeez for the fan art.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Fluffy Green Hair and Bright Green Eyes by notinthemoodforshit

Summary: Katsuki owns a tattoo parlor and Izuku owns a flower shop.

Complete | 6 Chapters | Mature

When a Star Truly Shines by @petri808

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki is a popular rockstar with a bad attitude and a playboy image. Girls, guys, it didn't matter as long as he got what he wanted. That is until at a party he sees one of Shouto's friends and decides to have him. Too bad Midoriya Izuku rejects him. Furious, the singer lashes out and creates a firestorm that threatens to tank his career and the one person who ends up saving him, was the man who'd turned him down. The singer learns some harsh lessons but in the end, comes to realize what makes a star truly shine.

Complete | 8 CH | Contains Smut

You must really like flowers by @saysiwrites

Summary: Midoriya Izuku works in a simple flower store that happens to have suddenly become a hotspot for Pro-Hero Bakugou Katsuki to buy from.

And boy, Katsuki certainly buys a lot of flowers.

One Shot | Contains Smut

Dulcet Flying by palinoia

Summary: "Sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, but I was just wondering if I could, uh... Ask you if you wanted to hang out and, er, grab a coffee? Again, I don't mean to sound presumptuous-"

He bit his lip, waiting anxiously for an answer; he didn't want to seem forward- he wouldn't be able to pull it off. He's not Kacchan, he's not amazing at everything.

"It's okay." A short pause, then a chuckle. "I was just about to ask you myself, you know."

He was always usually so angry, with his signature frown and husky tone. But in Izuku's presence, he was happier, softer, kinder. And it made Izuku smile, to know he had that effect on the older male.

"Really? Then, can we..?"

Izuku Midoriya took a deep breath and smiled up at Kacchan. Katsuki Bakugou. His childhood friend, who had left twelve years ago, when Izuku was seven. He was back, and Izuku was over the moon.

"Yeah. Let's."

The blond glanced down, and he let a small smile grace his face. Kacchan held out his hand and Izuku took it, the feeling of elation swelling within him when Katsuki glanced over his shoulder and chuckled.

Complete | 8 CH | Contains Smut

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your-local-squip-fanatic · 1 year ago

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I have really bad news, guys.

For some fucking reason, the Internet isn't working on my laptop. I'm forced to use my phone's hotspot for Wifi, but it's data internet and not actually Wifi. And things eventually got slow on my laptop, until I couldn't even access my docs for my stories anymore. I knew it would eventually get slow, but that's not the worst of it.

Now my Chromebook is useless without internet, and my phone refuses to let me turn the hotspot back on. No clue why.

This means that until I can somehow figure out how to fix this and speed up the internet again to actually USE it, I have to type up Lesterverse and Shatterverse on my phone, which is NOT ideal. Chapters are going to take much longer to do. I sooo much prefer a physical keyboard rather than a tiny digital one.

Trust me everyone, this is worse on me than you. I want to share my stories with you all, but right now I have to use an alternative I don't like using. I wanted ch 3 of the AU out already, but this seriously affected its progress. I'm hoping you guys understand and be patient, and PLEASE, if anyone can help me figure out how to fix this I will be grateful.

Until then, time to get used to making fics on my phone... this will suck ngl

#important #update #please help #lesterverse #shatterverse #double lester au #fan au #my au #toa au #alternate universe #leander belenus papadopoulos #idk how i should tag this #but fr #if anyone has any clue on how to fix this please help!!

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phoenixjewelrystore · 1 day ago

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o0-iris-0o · 7 days ago

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Luminous | Xiao x [F] Reader

Description: After months of isolation and endless work, your friend insists on taking you out for a night of music and escape. But a stranger at the bar has an offer that might take your life in an unexpected direction.

Warnings: Dark Themes | NSFW | 18+

Chapter: 11/29

V AO3 Tags Below V

< CH. 10 | CH. 12 >

Chapter 11

Our departure from the inn was swift, with all of us packing into Shenhe’s car as usual. Yanfei, brimming with enthusiasm, tried to give directions to the restaurant she had in mind for lunch, claiming it was a brand-new, up-and-coming hotspot that we absolutely needed to try. However, Shenhe growing increasingly annoyed with Yanfei’s convoluted directions, demanded she provide the address instead.

We’d been delayed a little, but eventually, we made it to the restaurant of Yanfei’s choosing. It was, in fact, just as good as she had boasted, and while we were there, the alcohol flowed freely, with Ganyu now joining in on the drinks. After our meal, Ganyu requested that we stop by a bakery she liked for some dessert. Yanfei, ever thoughtful, decided to buy two adorable, personal-sized cakes as part of her gift for the party.

From there, Yanfei worked on the second half of her gift, securing a good deal on a bundle of luxury candles and high-end home fragrances, all beautifully packaged. Seeing that it was getting late, with the sun starting to set, we began making our way to the soiree. The drive was lengthy, taking us to the northeast outskirts of the city. Now we’re arriving at nine p.m., just in time.

While Shenhe carefully navigates the crowded parking lot, I watch through the dark-tinted windows as people in luxurious outfits exit their cars, engage in conversations, or make their way into the venue. The search for parking is taking longer than expected, and unfortunately, the spot we find is one of the furthest from the entrance.

“Ah, finally! It was getting so cramped in here—w-woah!” Yanfei exclaims, bursting out of the car right after me. Her movements are too quick for her current state, and she loses her balance. Reacting quickly, despite my own intoxication, I manage to grab her arm just before she teeters over.

“Y-Yanfei!” I stutter, struggling to hold her as she regains her balance. “Are you alright?”

With an apologetic smile, she assures me, “Sorry… I’m fine! I’ll try to be more careful.” Then, letting out a drunken giggle, she takes my hand. “There, now we can look out for each other!”

I can’t help but to respond with a touch of sarcasm, “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense…”

“Oh!” Yanfei turns to point into the car, “I almost forgot—can you grab that bag for me?”

“Sure.” I move to retrieve the bag of gifts resting on the empty passenger seat. With a thud, the car door slams shut, and the confirming beep of the locked doors rings through the air. Yanfei and I quickly maneuver around the car, rejoining Shenhe and Ganyu.

As our group navigates through the parking lot, Yanfei keeps a tight grip on my hand. At least she’s sticking close, it makes it easier to keep an eye on her. I never realized how energetic she really is until now, and it’s been worrying me for the past few hours. It’s almost as if each drink she consumes gives her more energy. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get her to settle down once we’re inside.

Approaching the venue, we walk past groups of conversing people under glistening golden outdoor lights, steering around them to reach the front doors. Inside, the venue reveals itself as a spacious hall with striking golden accents, certainly big enough for the crowd.

Straightaway, Shenhe takes control over the situation. With a briefcase in hand, she swiftly finds a staff member to take us to the hosts of the party—or rather, our clients. The four of us are promptly guided through the hall. Along the way, we pass tables covered with plates of food and drinks that catch both mine and Yanfei’s eyes. It’s been so long since we last ate, and with so many drinks in between, I can hardly wait for this deal to be over. I’ll definitely be coming back to these tables later.

We’re guided to a smaller, private room hidden off to the side. The staff knock on the door, then open it, kindly gesturing for us to enter. Shenhe and Ganyu step into the room first, followed by Yanfei and me.

“Oh, good evening. Punctual as usual,” a woman’s voice greets us, though she’s momentarily obscured until the others move further into the room. Shenhe and Ganyu both give their greetings as they go to take their seats on a lavish sofa. I then see the warmly lit lounge area and the two assumed hosts seated on one of the sofas.

One is a woman of fair complexion with exceptionally long, white-beige hair, partially tied into an elegant bun resembling a bow, secured meticulously by a hairpin. She wears a stunning golden dress and gives us a subtle smile as we take our seats. The other woman, seated beside her, wears a lovely burgundy dress that matches well with her darker-colored hair. She gives the group a wide grin as Shenhe places the case onto the center table, clicking it open to display its contents.

Just then, I notice Yanfei’s outstretched hand, gesturing for the bag I still have. Quickly, I hand it over so she can place it on the table alongside the case.

“Good evening, Ningguang, Beidou,” Shenhe starts. “It’s nice to see you again. I hope you’re doing well.”

“Indeed, we’re quite well, and yourselves?”

“Things have been going more smoothly recently, and business is good as usual. We’ve taken on a new member since we last met, as you could probably tell already. This is Y/N, a fellow adeptus. She joined only a few months ago.” I didn’t expect to be put on the spot in this conversation, but as Shenhe gestures in my direction, all heads turn toward me.

“Oh, an adeptus? How very interesting,” Ningguang remarks, raising an eyebrow.

“Um—yes, my name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I do hope the inn is to your liking, yes? If there are any issues, don’t hesitate to voice your concerns.”

It takes me a moment to process, but then I understand her meaning. “O-Oh, you’re the owner of the inn?”

Ningguang sighs, though it's more in happiness than frustration. “Wangshu Inn. The name hardly fits the script, wouldn’t you say? I own many properties, the towering inn at the heart of the bustling city being among them, yes. Though I must admit, it sees much favoritism. We’re always looking for ways to improve our guests' visits and our residents’ foreseeable stays.”

“I see. So far, I’ve enjoyed the inn very much and haven’t had any issues. I can’t say I’ve lived or visited anywhere more extravagant; it’s a beautiful property.” I add, noticing her pride in her establishment.

My praise earns a genuine smile from Ningguang. “Thank you; your honest feedback is greatly appreciated. Um, Beidou—” She turns to her companion, but her words abruptly stop when she sees Beidou holding one of the rainbow syringes in her hands. “Hey, what did I tell you?” Ningguang scolds, snatching the immunity serum from the open case. “Take this one first.” “Yeah, yeah—I was just about to take it!” Beidou retorts.

With an eye-roll, Ningguang replies, “I’m sure you were. Now, would you please hand over the check so these ladies can get to enjoying themselves.”

With her free hand, Beidou produces a folded piece of paper from beneath the collar of her dress and hands it to Ningguang, who quickly takes it.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she comments, examining the paper. “Here you are. As always, all lease fees have been accounted for,” she informs Shenhe, handing her the check.

With a nod, Shenhe accepts it. “Thank you very much.”

“Now go, enjoy yourselves at the soiree, and thank you again for coming. We’ll be out shortly.” Both hosts give us warm smiles, and with that, we leave the private room and rejoin the crowd outside in the hall.

As our group merges back into the sea of people, I hear Yanfei grumble, “Ugh, I’m absolutely starving… Y/N! Let’s go find those tables with the food we saw earlier!”

“Oh, okay.” I nod along. I can’t deny I’m just as hungry, and I agree. But just then, Yanfei grabs my hand again and bolts off in the opposite direction of Shenhe and Ganyu, hardly giving them time to notice. Confusion sets in as Yanfei streamlines us through the crowd, but my dazed mind snaps to attention when I realize Yanfei really shouldn’t be running right now—for her own health as much as to avoid knocking others over. “W-Wait, Yanfei!”

“Huh, come on! We’re almost there. I can already see the tables.” She brushes off my attempts to slow her down. But before I know it, we’re already standing in front of the large assortment of entrees and drinks. Yanfei releases me to grab a plate, while I take a moment to catch my breath.

Exhaling heavily, I join her, grabbing a plate. “How about we don’t run like that again, yeah?”

“Come on, I brought us to the food, didn’t I? Hehe. Oh, here, have a drink,” she says, holding a champagne glass she plucked from the array of drinks.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I say, “I’ll only take it if you promise not to run off like that again.” “Alright, alright, no more running, I swear.”

Taking her word for it, the glass of alcohol transfers into my hand, and we both load our plates with as much food as we can.

—

The night was in full swing when Ningguang and Beidou finally made their entrance, the room quieting momentarily as they took the stage. Ningguang’s voice, smooth and authoritative, echoed through the hall. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for coming tonight. It’s an honor to host such a distinguished gathering…”

Her words were met with a round of polite applause, and the crowd's chatter quickly resumed its lively hum. As the evening went on, I found myself trailing behind Yanfei, who was in her element. She bounced from group to group, effortlessly starting conversations with strangers, her charisma drawing them in like moths to a flame. Meanwhile, Shenhe and Ganyu remained out of sight, never emerging from the waves of guests.

I try to keep up, to feign interest in the endless small talk, but as time passes and drinks pile up, my focus drifts. The champagne and wine coursing through my veins dulls my senses. By the sixth or seventh group Yanfei engages with, I’m barely present, my gaze locked on the intricate patterns of the floor tiles. My head spins, the alcohol making me unsteady on my feet even in my motionless stance, when suddenly, an urgent need cuts through my haze.

I have to find a bathroom, and fast. Seizing the opportunity to extricate Yanfei from yet another group of strangers, I blurt out, abruptly cutting into the conversation, “Yanfei, I need to use the bathroom!”

“Oh, right!” she responds quickly, turning to our bemused company. “Sorry, we’ll have to excuse ourselves.” Yanfei begins to say her goodbyes, and I instantly turn on my heels. Scanning the room, I spot a restroom sign on the far wall and I take off in its direction.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” I hear Yanfei’s voice call from behind, but desperation drives me forward.

Bursting through the door, I’m hit by a strong floral scent. Upon first glance, the restroom appears empty. Thank goodness. Hastily, I pick a stall and slam the door shut behind me, collapsing onto the toilet with a soft grunt, muttering a depleted “fuck…”

As I sit, feet dangling above the ground due to my strewn drunken position, the room spins around me, a sense of relief washing over my sore limbs. I’m completely out of it. Here I am, at a glamorous party, but I feel anything but elegant right now. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, to find a moment of peace as Yanfei now shuffles around outside the stalls. I guess it was fun to pretend for a day, but now I just want to go home.

Suddenly, as I’m lost in my thoughts, a wet splat against my knee startles me. I open my eyes, adjusting my leg to see a black substance blotted across my skin.

My expression sours, and with my disoriented vision, I inspect the stall, only to find it in pristine condition. What the hell… where did it come from, then?

There’s another splat against my knee. This time, my eyes trace the falling substance up to the ceiling, where I spot a dark patch of liquid seeping through the panel above. It drips again, my eyes distinctly following its path, but when my gaze falls to my knee, the stain has vanished.

What the—

Instantly, my focus snaps back up to the ceiling, but there’s nothing there, not even a stain.

Dropping my face into the palms of my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut. “Ah, shit…” “Everything okay in there?” Yanfei’s voice echoes throughout the room.

With a flush, I fling the stall door open. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, moving over to the sinks. “I think I had too much to drink, though…” Yanfei nods, fixing her hair in the mirror. “It’s alright, we’re going to be leaving soon anyway. Shenhe’s probably been looking for us, but I haven’t checked my messages yet. She hates being at these events for so long.”

Finishing up in the bathroom, we start to make our exit, a chill rolling over me as I’m approaching the door. My hand grazes its surface, the weight of my arm then cracking the bathroom door open, allowing me to glance out into the hall where I immediately freeze up. Am I… seeing things right now? My vision blurs, and I try to fight against it, but I’m unable to focus my sight before Yanfei’s voice distracts me.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? What are you looking at?” her tone is hinted with concern, but I’m unable to offer a response. The figure turns around, and a cold dread washes over me. Without thinking, I stumble back, away from the door.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me… what’s going on?” Yanfei confesses, but I’m already set on looking for an escape route, or at least somewhere to hide. The thought of shoving Yanfei into one of the stalls crosses my mind, but before I can react, the bathroom door swings open.

A chuckle resonates off the tiled walls, emitted from the blonde woman now standing in the doorway. She gives us a chillingly familiar smile as she takes a step forward, the door swinging shut behind her. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

Yanfei and I are left speechless, neither of us confident enough to speak up, and an uneasy silence fills the room. Lumine’s eyes flick between us, her smile never faltering. “Something the matter? Come now, there’s no reason to be so tense, we’re all good, old friends here, right?”

Her words feel like a taunt, and my mind races. Why now? Why here? Just when we were about to go home too… if a fight breaks out here there’s no doubt that it’ll end horribly, especially with all these people.

“You don’t have to be so frightened; the two of you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost.” She prods, then suddenly bursts into laughter as if she’d told some hysterical joke, earning uncomfortable glares from both of us. “Although, I think I’m the only one seeing ghosts right now, am I right, Y/N?”

Huh?

“Lumine!” Yanfei shouts unexpectedly, startling me.

Lumine’s expression turns to one of amusement upon hearing Yanfei’s reaction, her gaze sharpening. “Ah, I see…” she says, her focus now locking onto me. “Y/N, I don’t think you should trust these people.”

“Lumine, stop!” Yanfei’s voice holds a desperate edge, but Lumine silences her with a single gesture of her hand. Suddenly, Yanfei stands frozen, struggling to speak but unable to make a sound, as if something’s holding her mouth shut.

“Stop!” I finally speak up, seeing that whatever’s happening to Yanfei is beyond her control. “Please don’t hurt her—”

“Just hear me out.” Lumine continues calmly, a hand positioned out in front of her, presumably keeping Yanfei secured. “There are things that your friends are hiding from you, important things. Things you should know, things… that you deserve to know.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I stammer, trying to find a way out of this conversation. It’s quickly starting to sound like a bunch of nonsense.

“Of course you don’t,” Lumine chuckles. “It’s such ‘confidential’ information, after all. But I know. Yanfei knows, Ganyu, even Xiao. Especially Xiao. He’s probably the one who ordered everyone to keep their mouths shut.”

“Lumine, please… Just tell me what you mean,” I plead.

She pouts her lip. “Well, I’m certainly in no position to lay it all out for you. All I can really do is advise you. A word of advice: demand answers, and seek the truth. The rest is up to you.” Once she finishes speaking, Lumine releases her hold on Yanfei, who gasps for air.

“Now go on, you have an objective to complete,” Lumine adds, stepping aside. Instantly, I grab hold of Yanfei’s hand, and we bolt from the bathroom.

Speeding through the hall, we search desperately for our other two companions.

“Shenhe, Ganyu!” we call out, trying to get their attention as we zoom over.

Hearing our calls, Shenhe looks up from her phone. “There you are. Remind me never to let you out of my sight again—”

“We have to go!” Yanfei interrupts.

“Yeah, you’re right. I wanted to leave hours ago,” Shenhe answers, missing the urgency.

“Ugh, whatever. Come on, let's get out of here!” Yanfei instists, pulling on Shenhe’s arm.

Without much objection, we make a swift escape from the soiree.

—

Stepping off the elevator, I let out a sigh of relief. Home, finally…

Scanning the empty living area, I doubt Xiao is sleeping right now. I drag my feet against the floor, opening the door to the dimly lit lab to find Xiao seated at his computer, absorbed in his work as expected.

“I’m back,” I announce, closing the door behind me.

“I know,” Xiao answers, turning to face me. “How was the event?” “It was nice, very fancy,” I answer, my mind replaying the night as I come to stand by one of the tables.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of Ningguang.” Xiao’s expression softens, “Are you… alright? You look bothered.”

I hesitate, Lumine's words echoing in my mind before I scatter them. “I’m fine, just tired. Did you find anything in my test results?”

Xiao lightly shakes his head, “Not yet. Everything looks normal so far, but I’ll have more answers by morning,” he assures me.

“Alright then. Thanks, Xiao.” I sigh, exhaustion settling in. “I’m going to get some rest.”

< CH. 10 | CH. 12 >

#fanfiction #fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #xiao genshin impact #xiao #xiao/reader #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao fanfic #genshin fanart #genshin art #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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