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sscieloz · 1 year ago

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What Friends do

Kim Minjeong x 5thmember!reader

Synopsis: winter finds out that you and giselle have been fucking. as you grow tired of her subtle glares and questions, you ask her if she wants to try it, too. She’s hesitant about it, at first, but soon confesses that she’d love to try being edged in public, and naturally, you’re more than happy to help her with that.

Warnings: sub!winter x dom!reader. public edging + cumming. vibrators. lots of plot w a little bit of smut, I guess :) I hope this is ok ˆˆ I tried my best.

Word count: 5k

Notes: I j kept writing and suddely it was 5k long lol. honestly, I think +3k words (personally speaking) might be too much… the words start to lose their meanings and my writing kind of slacks off, yk? So it’ll try to tone it down, for any future works. that’s my opinion, tbh. what do you think?

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

“Are you and Aeri unnie a thing?” Winter asks, ever so casually. Her eyes are still glued on her phone; playing sudoku, most likely.

Her words make you choke on your milkshake, coughing violently. “What? No. of course not,” You add, curiously, “What makes you think that?”

“She checks you out all the time.” Your bandmate shrugs, tone indifferent as if she were talking about the weather. “And it’s not like you’re exactly subtle, either. You’d think her face is in her tits, with how much you ogle them.”

You frown, playing with your drink’s straw. Your encounters with Aeri were happening with some sort of frequency now, although it was rather natural— you were both needy and the sex was good and easy, so it was truly a win-win situation. However, you’ve never stopped to think about the way you acted in public. Now that you did, you could observe the truth behind Winter’s comments: you’d gotten closer to her over the past few weeks. Giselle wasn’t a naturally over affective person, but she’d often be found tugging your shirt or brushing your hips, dragging you to be closer to her whenever you wandered too far.

You gulp, reminding yourself to talk to her about it, later.

“…because if you are, then it’s ok, too.” You’ve missed most of Winter’s discourse, lost in thoughts, one she’s deeply immersed into. The older girl’s voice hushes in a low, hesitant tone, the usual confidence she’d try so hard to bring on stage all gone now. “I just wish any of you told us. I-I thought we were friends! I tell you everything. It’s not fair.”

Winter’s short, auburn hair moves with the wind’s breeze, enticing her delicate appearance. She crosses her arms, rolling her eyes once she realizes you were too distracted to pay attention to her words and give her a proper answer.

She already knows about it, somehow. And she’s hurt you haven’t told her. You realize. She’s a smart, attentive girl, of course; probably figured it out all by herself.

“Sorry, I dozed out.” You shrug as she remains silent, not backing down from getting her answer—yet not amused, either. It wasn’t uncommon for you to unintentionally drift apart during a conversation, with your unnies having to explain stuff to you two, sometimes three times, before you finally managed to maintain your focus for long enough to understand. “Ok, ok. We might’ve fucked a few times…”

Minjeong smirks; she loves to be right about things. Clapping her hands, she lets out little giggles, “I knew it! Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Y/n? We’re literally best friends!”

She was right; Winter was the one you were closest with, out of all the girls, even though none of you knew exactly why. Your personalities were rather different. However, you’d often be found talking for hours and hours over the craziest topics with insane enthusiasm. You tell her everything, and she was great at giving you advice and putting you back to your senses. She never complained, not even when your banter was too frequent or too whiny for the other members to endure.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, sincerely. You really should’ve told her: it was nothing serious, and there was no reason in hiding it. “It just didn’t even go through my mind. It was so natural how it happened the first time—and the others… I didn’t think it would even matter.” You poke her nose, noticing the way Winter’s pout turns into a small smile. You knew she wasn’t truly upset— she simply just longs to be a part of your life. “What do you want to know, though? C’mon, I’ll tell you everything.”

Your suggestive tone is the reason Winter’s face turns as red as a tomato, sipping on her Coke Zero avidly to avoid your suggestive answer.

She does smack you when your loud laugh starts attracting them attention, though.

“Aeri is going out.” Winter announces, taking your AirPods off without your consent, so you’d fully focus on her.

You glance at Aeri, who’s caught up rearranging a bunch of stuff in one of her small Prada purses. Your bandmate is wearing a beautiful leopard dress with scandalous black heels, pin-straight hair falling neatly to her waist and red tint kissing her lips. She looks flawless, much different from you— too cozy in your big pajamas and disheveled hair.

“I have eyes, you know.” You mumble, but smile at the sight of the Uchinaga, dropping your nintendo on the couch and whistling to get her attention. “You look so hot, Aeri unnie! Have fun!” Aeri smiles and gives you and Winter a kiss before running towards the door.

“I will, thanks Y/nn-ie! Don’t wait up for me!” She screams as she locks the door, leaving the room silent. The only apparent tension is Winter, who stares at you with narrowed eyes.

“What is wrong with you, unnie?” You scoff, annoyed as you return to your game. Mario’s red cap and silhouette can be seen through the screen in your hands, and Winter shifts on the couch, hugging her knees as she keeps on staring at you.

“Aeri is going out. Somi-sunbaenim will be there, too.” She repeats herself, making you even more confused. Seeing your frown and how her words weren’t enough to have you interested in paying her attention, Winter grabs the device, shutting it down.

“Hey! What the fuck?” You try to take it from her hands, only for her to tighten her grip.

The auburn haired girl has, unlike you, a significant amount of strength.

“Yn, focus! Aeri is going out and Somi will be there!” Her voice is outraged, not able to understand how you were so chill about this.

“So?” You are still frowning as you try to get your nintendo back, clearly not bothered. “Somi’s fucking hot, Winter. I hope Aeri fucks her. Again, I mean. You know…”

Winter’s mouth opens to a big O, surprised by your answer. You take advantage of that moment to grab your nintendo back, although she’d managed to get your sole focus. You cock your head to the sides, engines running with the earn of being able to understand what went through her mind.

“Aren’t you jealous? Or insecure?” Winter asks, frowning.

“What? No. Why would I be?” seeing her equally confused expression, you sigh, sitting properly. “Winter, we fuck, that’s literally it. Aeri and I are friends, and will only be friends. It’s just sex, really.”

It was clear that the older girl still didn’t understand your dynamics, but she bit her tongue, not wanting to be a bitch about it.

“Ok.” She nodded, messing her hair, “I just don’t really get it, I think.”

“There’s no jealousy between us, Minjeongie.” You tell her, hoping to clarify things. “Because there’s not a relationship, get it? And there won’t be one. We are friends, and bandmates, and we like to have fun, sometimes. Nothing else.”

She stands up, still looking at you as if you were an alien.

“Ok.” Your bandmate sighs, clearly disapproving your whole dynamics. “I’ll go to my room.”

“Huh, ok.”

You stare at Winter’s back while she leaves the living room, without waiting for an answer.

The two of you are splashed on your bedroom’s massive rug when she mentions it again.

“So… it all started with that?” Winter asks, looking at the vibrator displayed on your desk. You grit your teeth, realizing you’d simply thrown it in the first place you saw, after cleaning it. You had found the toy when doing your laundry, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to keep it extra clean, even if it had been ages since you’ve last used it.

After the day Giselle went to the party, you started noticing how curious Winter had gotten about your relationship— or lack thereof. She’d send you subtle glances whenever the five of you were hanging out, and her questions were soon becoming more and more obvious. It was fairly noticeable, how intrigued and interested the whole thing had gotten her.

With that, Winter started seeking for details of how you and Giselle fucked for the first time, which led you to the current situation: the green vibrator displayed in your hands, teasing your friend as you playfully jiggle it onto her face. You try to hand it to her so she’ll touch it, but she retreats instead, face all red from embarrassment.

“Pretty much, yeah.” You smirk, eyeing her just as curiously, “Why are you suddenly so interested, though? Would you like to try it?”

“What, no! Ew.” Her eyes go wide at your suggestion, and Winter shakes her head vigorously. You laugh at how she looks like she’s about to combust; she’s always been so composed, and so… chaste, whenever one of you mentioned anything about sex. It’s endearing, even.

You had thought, initially, that she was simply a private person— which was more than ok, of course. However, her current reactions led you to wonder if her reactions weren’t from lack of experience, too.

“Ok, then.” You tuck your vibrator back in the drawers and brush the subject off, immediately sensing how her muscles relax, and her face changes into a mix of easy features. The last thing you’d want is to make her uncomfortable, so the change is much appreciated.

You do notice how Winter keeps biting her lip, though. And the way her eyes flicker to your drawers, before focusing back on your face. You bite your cheek, too, to prevent a big smile from covering your face. She’ll come around, just like you did. Patience was a virtue, and you would happily wait for your friend to grow confident enough to come out of her shell and take whatever she wanted to.

“I changed my mind.” Winter announces, staring down at you with assertiveness. You snort, pouting.

“Yeah, that’s too bad. You gave me that fucking top, there’s no way you’re getting it back.”

“No.” She rolls her eyes, annoyed. “I mean, about that other thing.”

The five of you have just finished performing at Music Bank, and you’re currently trying very hard to sit still, so the makeup artist can work on getting all the foundation out of your face. As a result, you’re unable to turn and take a proper look at your bandmate, whose voice is so quiet you barely hear her correctly.

“You mean dinner? Because we still have to cook, even though it sucks, I know. It’s our day, there’s no escape.” You frown. Winter rubs her arms nervously, eyes staring everywhere but at your face.

“No!” She’s exasperated, and impatient to know you’re not playing with her: you simply don’t understand what she’s implying. Which means she’ll have to be direct about it, nearly begging. And that’s the last thing Winter wants to do. “I want to… try what you’ve suggested, the other day. With the, ahn sex thing.”

You try your best to not make your eyes grow wide, swallowing deep to keep focus. “Ok. Do you want to do it when we get back home?”

Winter hesitates. Her hands trace patterns on the beige vanity, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to do it at home, either.” She seems to ponder, before adding. “But I do want to do it. Badly”.

“Ok.” You nod, smiling at her to make sure she’s comfortable and completely reassured. “We can just go with it whenever you’re comfortable, then. There’s no need to hurry.”

Winter smiles back at you, before being dragged by Ningning to film that new tiktok challenge the maknae’s been so eager to shoot. You don’t mind, though. In, fact, you thrive on watching them being the silliest, carefree versions of themselves they can, while on camera. It pleases you to know they can show such part of themselves to your fans without being scrutinized or criticized.

The five of you are at the mall, enjoying your day off together as if you’ve never been separated in your entire lives. You’re laying in one of the waiting room’s cushions, waiting for Karina and Ningning to be done with trying on the whole store’s winter collection. Giselle’s hands are full, too, and her critical eyes examine every piece before choosing for herself. Her expressive faces leave you curious, eager to you know what thoughts go through her mind. In fact, you get so invested in trying to guess the girl’s internal monologue, you barely notice Winter’s frame standing beside you.

You haven’t touched her at all, not ever since she’s confessed to you about her urges. You know Winter must be fuming, whimpering with need and the desire to be relived, or simply touched, in any ways you’d like. Your intention was to leave the idea of being pleasured linger on your bandmate’s mind. The flashes going through her brain for weeks until she was nothing but pliable and ready for your commands, searching restlessly for an orgasm that she’d have to work really hard for.

It was the sweetest part, out of all of it. Being able to see Winter jump slightly whenever your fingers brush her skin, like a lost, fragile bunny. You adore it.

“Y/n.” She whines, and you can hear the neediness in her voice, no matter how much she tries to hide it. “I don’t want to wait, anymore. I want it now.”

You roll her eyes at her demands, even though you’ve already decided you’ve had enough playing, too.

“I do have something for you, Winter.” You tell her, reaching your arms out. Once she gets to you, you kiss her hands, ever so gently. “Something to make you feel better. To kill the urges that have been going on your body for weeks, now. Would you like it?”

Her voice falters. “I thought you had forgotten about t-that.”

“Oh, I could never.” You think your smirk will surpass your face, with how much you’re smiling. Ever since she’d pleaded for you to touch her, your mind has been plagued by the numerous ways you’d take her, ruining her pretty little body until she was passed out, drunk on her orgasms. “Shall we, then?”

Truth be told, the anticipation you’ve built was starting to get to you as much as it riled Winter up.

She was confused to be guided to the restroom stalls rather to the car. Were you not taking her home? How else would you get a taste of her, like you promised, then?

Her thoughts, however, dissipated once you started to unbutton her jeans, letting the loose piece fall through her knees.

“W-What are you doing?” She paled, trying to reach for them back. Her back hit the wall, and she was once again reminded of how petite she truly was, cornered by your frame. She tried her best to nudge you, hoping to get you off her. Your feet, however, were stamped onto the ground, and the grip you had on her hips was a tad too strong. She gulped, realizing you’ve allowed her to overpower you every time you played games or competed for something. “Someone might c-come in, Y/n. Please…”

It aroused you to have her begging so quickly. You’d barely touched her, yet there she was: with her mouth half open and her fingers poking, scratching your neck. You smiled.

“They can.” You confirmed, seeing her gulp. “We better not take long, then. Right? We wouldn’t want anyone to see you like this. You look so pretty, though. I wish you could see yourself, right now.”

Your words were nothing but true. She looks so adorable, it leaves you aching. Your hands twitch, tense with how much you’ve envisioned groping her tiny body and sticking your fingers up in her cunt until she was screaming loud enough for everyone in that store to know what you were up to.

You’d wait for her to come around and be confident, though, just like Giselle did to you. Besides, the anticipation was part of the fun.

She hums, already feeling herself become lightheaded by your praises. Soon enough, Winter finds herself getting distracted by your sweetness, and it’s not long until she’s completely relaxed under you. In fact, she’s so engrossed by your frame, she barely registers your hand. It trails lower, and your fingers brush her clit through her small panties.

Winter drops her head, even though she’s no longer worried, and looks up to meet your eyes.

“I did say you were going to get what you’ve been asking for, didn’t I, dearest?” You explain, focused on her big orbs. Winter’s eyes observe your every move, attentive. “And you’ve been doing so good with the shows and rehearsals… You deserve a treat, naturally.”

You allow your hand to cub her sex, slowly caressing it as you feel her shiver under you. With gentle manners, you insert two of your fingers into her cunt, smirking to find her already dripping wet. She moans so loud you start placing small, wet kisses down her neck, to gather her focus back to you and not to the deep, unhurried pleasure your fingers provide her, now pulling in an out in a slow rhythm.

Taking all of her in, you add, “Do you like this, Minjeongie? The thrill of knowing someone might walk in and know how dirty you are, spreading yourself for me with such ease?” You smirk, not resisting on rubbing her clit for a few seconds, before your fingers find the place they were meant to wander for so long. “God, your cute little cunt is so wet already.”

You let out a little laugh, reminding of yourself of your intentions as you retrieve your fingers from her pussy, making her lick them clean. She does so, like a good, obedient girl.

“You always excel in everything, unnie. Such a good job you’re doing.” You praise the girl locked in your arms, immediately shutting down her needy whines and complaints.

“Please don’t stop…” Whatever words Winter’s had in mind die the moment she spots a small toy in your hands. You flicker it between your fingers, allowing her to process what you intended to do. “It this—“

“What you’ve told me about? Yes, it is.” You smile, making a show of sucking and getting the vibrator wet for her yourself. This time, it’s her turn to have a darkened gaze, one filled with hunger. Her attention is all on you: on your next movements, on your body. You adore it. “I even got it in purple, just like you had told me. It’s so pretty, Winter. A pretty little toy for a pretty girl, begging to be ruined.” You murmur, getting to your knees and facing her pussy. Your gaze never leaves hers, careful to not miss a single breath of hers.

Winter is truly a sight, and you want to make sure you’d remember all of her sensitive, fast responses.

In fact, you were actually very surprised when Winter went to your room in the middle of the night, confessing about her few, failed sexual experiences and what she’d like to try, someday. It wasn’t unusual for you to talk about sex with your bandmates, although Winter never spoke about herself to you— at least, not directly. However, the two of you were already used to talking about numerous topics, and the conversation went by easily enough. You were pretty surprised to hear her confess, with a quiet tone, about how much the thought of herself being tossed around like a doll aroused her. How she sometimes fantasized about doing things in public, yet hidden enough so people wouldn’t be completely sure about her actions. It pleased her, knowing she’d be clouding their minds, leaving them wondering without a proper answer. Though they’d have their doubts, no one would have a clue about it: that was what aroused her the most.

Of course, you were more than eager to make her wishes come true, and the current time seemed like the perfect one to do just that.

Winter’s pretty cunt’s all on display for you, and you can’t help but to get a taste of her. So, of course, you do so: parting her folds, you give her clit a brief, sloppy kiss. You feel your friend’s delicate fingers forging a firm hold onto your hair, and Winter tries her best to not make any noises. It’s the same as nothing, though.

She is, just as you had imagined it, too sensitive.

“No! Y/n, don’t tease…” She huffs, frustrated. As the toy slips inside, she can’t help but to let out a high-pitched scream—one that’s muffled by her own hands, who run towards her mouth in hopes to keep herself quiet. Her shoulders shake due to her laughs, then, as she fails terribly.

Seeing her so carefree is more than enough to have you giggling, too. You mess her hair, pinching her cheeks.

“Behave, ok? If you’re good enough ‘till the end of the day, I might reward you when we get home.” You promise Winter as you get up, zipping her pants back to place adn kissing her cheek.

The look she gives you assures you she’ll be anything but.

“Are you okay, Minjeongie? Your face is all flushed.” Karina asks the red-haired girl, as the oldest sits beside you at the restaurant.

The three of you nod, and Ningning is quick to put her palm over Winter’s forehead.

“You’re hot, too. And all sweaty. Were you this sick earlier in the afternoon?” She asks, with a worried tone. Winter takes a sip of her water, hoping to collect herself before answering her bandmates, but nearly drowns herself in it once you increase the intensity of the vibrations. They echo into her cunt, making it impossible for her to answer anything straight.

She was so stupid, thinking it was an easy task: walk around with the girls as they tried some clothes on, then attend dinner, and soon to go back to their dorms, where she’d get her reward for being a good girl and finally get properly fucked, like she had silently begged you for so long. No, she was a smart, attentive girl. How could she not have predicted that stupid toy would send such hums deep into her walls? It was difficult to stay still, and nearly impossible to focus or to keep her mouth shut. In fact, she feared deeply she’d just end up moaning loudly if she even tried to speak anything.

Luckily for her, you decide to give her a few moments of peace. As soon as the settings were back to its lowest, she takes another long gulp, with deep breaths, too.

“I’m all good, really. Just tired from walking around so much.” It’s all she manages to say, avoiding Ningning’s lingering touches.

“We should get you to the doctor, perhaps.” Giselle suggests. Her eyes, however, are not focused on Winter. Her attention is all on you, instead. Her gaze is so strong you turn your head away, looking everywhere but to your best friend.

“No! No, there’s no need for that.” Winter gesticulates, nodding and moving her upper body as much as she’s able to without getting the toy to budge. She tries her best to prove to her friends she was indeed ok. “Really, I’m sure it’ll pass once the food c-comes fuck.” Winter stands up abruptly, leaning on her arms to lift herself up as her legs felt like pure jelly. “Nervermind. I j-just have to use the restroom real quick. If you’ll excuse me.”

So, Winter leaves, without waiting for an answer. Almost instantly, you get up too, setting your napkin aside in a calming motion.

“I’ll go help her, girls. Don’t worry.” They all nod, their features completely diverting from one another; while Karina is frowning, Ning keeps alternating her looks into you and the hallway Winter has just disappeared into, torn between letting you handle the situation or stepping up and helping her unnie herself, and Giselle… Giselle has a blank expression, the engines running inside her mind.

Her long nails tap the wooden table in a steady rhythm, staring at your back as you leave them be, walking into the restroom to meet your bandmate. You make sure to lock the door once you get inside, too.

The room is exquisite, a perfect portrait of the whole establishment; embroiled with white and red, the adornments are carefully thought to have the room give off a harmonious, eloquent vibe. You don’t pay much attention to it, though. Instead, your gaze is focused on the girl in front of you, the one who’s gripping the sink with too much strength.

“Are you unwell, unnie? How can I help you?” You ask her, playfully.

Winter stares at you thought the mirror, as you approach her. Her teeth are clenched, her clothes are nibbled and her looks hold fire in them. You’re certain she could kill someone with such thing as a stare if she wanted to.

She opens her mouth, ready to throw a world of curses at you, but stops herself once you motion to your phone, now placing her vibrator at a particularly high setting.

“I’d keep some of those pretty thoughts of yours inside your head, if you’d like to cum just now.”

She’s smart, insufferably so, and you get the proof of it as soon as your words leave your mouth. Quickly, Winter’s defiant stare is gone, and she’s all pliable in your embrace, instead. She’s a whiny little mess, rubbing her teeth on your neck, licking and sucking it just slightly— though not enough to bruise.

“Let me cum, Y/n? Please? I really think I might explode.” She pleads, looking at you with her best puppy eyes. “I need it s-so bad, I swear I’ll fucking do anything, ‘promise.”

You smile at her change of attitude, nodding as you take the vibrator out of her cunt in one, swift motion, replacing it with your fingers. Your thumb works on her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure on it. Finally, you allow her to get the relief she so desperately wants.

“You can cum now, darling. Do it, then.”

The permission is all Winter needs to explode, her body throbbing as she feels so full of pleasure, with fireworks dangling from her skin into every possible part of her body. It’s so good, and she feels so complete it becomes difficult to breathe— the overwhelming sensations enough to make her shiver. She bites on your neck, then; just a single one, to keep her from screaming like she wanted to. You hold her through her orgasm, your strong arms helping to ride her through it as you whisper sweet praises in her ear. You’re proud of Winter.

You lose count of how many minutes you wait, making sure her breaths are even and stable to release her from your hold.

“You did excellent, holding up the whole time. Didn’t even let a single whimper out, in front of the girls. You took it so good, Winter…. Truly perfect.” You smirk, giving Winter’s tiny waist a reassuring squeeze. She hides her face in embarrassment, humming curses at you, but you can tell she’s delighted, too.

Grabbing her by the hips, you gently put her up on the marble. It’s an easy task, with her being so small, but the way your palms nearly circle her entire waist is enough for her face to get all flustered, once again.

Your low tone soothes Winter, who leans her head back as she feels your soft hands between her thighs, cleaning you up with paper the best you can, careful to not touch her most sensitive areas. The ghost of your fingers are enough to make her twitch, though, as much as she tries not to. Her responsiveness lets a laugh out of you, and you kiss the insides of her thighs, looking up at Winter with a reassuring smile.

“Stop saying it like that.” She murmurs, biting her bruised lip. Her hands run through her hair, just for the sake of having something to occupy herself with.

You smirk, throwing the paper away as you turn, taking a proper look at the beautiful, messy state she is. Still knelt between her thighs, you massage her thighs, palming them in big, circling motions.

“Like what?” You smirk, feigning innocence. Winter slaps you, playfully, and you shake your head, helping her to get down.

“Let’s go. The girls must be worried.” She says, trying to guide you out.

You stop her, gently grabbing her by the elbows.

“Are you really ok, though?” You ask, scanning her. “It’s ok if you still want some more time to gather yourself before going out, again. I can totally come up with something to fool them, or I don’t know—.”

Winter shakes her head, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She’s shy, suddenly, as she answers, “I’m completely fine, I swear! Actually, I liked it a l-lot.”

You sigh, relieved. “Ok, ok. But if you feel otherwise, tell me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Your bandmate assures you, reaching out for the door. Before you leave, she calls for you quietly, “Y/n?”

You hum, staring at her still-flustered face.

“Thank you, you know. For… all of that.” Winter says, giving vou a faint smile.

“Don’t stress about it, unnie.” You smile back, nudging her. “It’s what friends do, right?”

Winter laughs, not believing your words.

“Sure. That’s what friends do.”

#sol writes #aespa x yn #aespa x you #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut #aespa winter #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #kpop x you #winter x reader #kim minjeong x yn #kim minjeong smut #kim minjeong x reader #kim winter #winter smut #s.writes

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dunmeshichilchuck · 7 months ago

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For That One Guy On Tumblr

Chilchuck x !fem ! halffoot Reader

So this starts off during the sauna episode. I'm changing it a bit to where that floor has been that cold since the dungeon was created. There will probably be more installments but right now it's just setting things up. Anyway, enjoy.

The last thing you remembered was cold, leeching into your bones. Cold, and the certainty that this would be the last thing you'd ever feel. Your party had left you to die rather than try to heal your wounds, and this floor was too deep for someone else to come along and take pity on you before your body rotted. You were going to become a ghost, haunting this dungeon without ever being able to leave.

And then you opened your eyes again, and you were all too warm.

You took a few shuddering breaths, coughing and gasping. Your lungs burned like they were on fire and your whole body ached. You curled up into yourself, shivering. And then you became aware of what was going on around you. And also that for some reason everyone was wrapped in towels instead of normal clothing.

"YOU MEAN YOU HAD NORMAL RESURRECTION MAGIC THAT COULD DO SHIT LIKE THIS THIS WHOLE TIME???!!! ARE YOU STUPID? WE COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE THING!"

Another....halffoot? Shouted.

"I already EXPLAINED why I couldn't have used normal magic!!" A blond elf woman shouted back in an exasperated high pitched squeal. "It wouldn't have worked! The thread between body and soul was too tenuous! And we'd never have been able to get enough regular meat down there! Anyway I don't understand why you're so against it, I didn't see you arguing against it at the time!"

A blond tall man, blindfolded? For some reason? Interjected. "Marcille is right! Even though the body was in a not so great condition the ice kept it from rotting so all the component parts were still there! We just got lucky that we were able to gather them all together! Once the body thawed resurrecting it was a simple matter! There was no need for special magic like with Falin."

They continued to argue violently while your recently unfrozen brain attempted to make sense of the situation.

Had the half foot somehow had enough pull in the party he'd been able to convince them that they should revive you? You weren't much use on this floor and presumably deeper ones where small traps gave way to larger monsters, so you couldn't work out any reason they had for reviving you. You looked around the small, actually extremely hot room you were in. It was...a sauna? Was it really a sauna? What the fuck?

You smelled something delicious and you looked around to see a dwarf with long black hair and a massive bushy black beard peacefully tending to meat cooking over what looked very much like a wok. What the fuck? They were a high enough level party to have fresh meat down here? That would explain why they'd been able to spare the revival for you.

There was also what looked like a beast girl crouched next to him, watching the squabbling party members with a bored expression on her face. Well. That was just another one of the things to file away and deal with later.

Almost instinctively you staggered to your feet and crouched down by the dwarf to watch him cook. Your stomach grumbled insistently. Even in normal circumstances getting revived made you ravenous. Now you felt dizzy with hunger.

"Ah, hello there!" The dwarf looked up at you and beamed. "Always nice to have new folk eat with us! You must be hungry after getting revived, food should be ready in just a few minutes."

He continued cooking, humming softly to himself.

"Would you...like some help?" You managed to rasp out. Throat hoarse with disuse.

At this point it seemed like the other people there remembered your existence.

"Ah! So sorry, you're awake!" The elf said. "You were out for a long time, I didn't know if the magic would fully take with how long you'd been in the ice."

"How...how long?" You said, almost dreading the answer.

"At least a couple of years, based on the state of your organs and bones" the blindfolded tall man said enthusiastically. "You were lucky! The extreme cold preserved you extremely well and there aren't any monsters down here that would go to the trouble of digging you out of the ice."

You blinked at him.

"How did you get all the way down here?" The elf asked. "Was your party wiped out? We looked but we couldn't find anyone else."

"I'll bet they left her behind." The halffoot interjected dourly. "She probably got injured and they didn't want to waste time resurrecting her or bringing her along."

"what!" The elf gasped. "that's terrible, no one would do that! Why would you even think of that Chilchuck??"

"Like I keep telling you guys, halffoots are treated as expendable! It'd be totally within the realm of possibility! Especially since she didn't sign on with the union or we woulda recorded when her party came back without her or she just never came back at all!" He frowned. "That's why I started the damn thing in the first place but if not everyone uses it it's not fucking good to anyone."

he (chilchuck?) turned abruptly to you. "Anyway, why didn't you use the union? We would have been able to look out for you so this didn't happen."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "....union?"

#dunmeshi #chilchuck #chilchuk tims #chilchuk dungeon meshi #chilchuck x reader

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eetherealgoddess · 11 months ago

Text

ꨄCellmateꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Prison/Bonten Au

❦Y/n goes to prison and meets an interesting group of men❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

I based this Japanese prison off of some research so some parts may not be accurate. I only know some things about American prisons already so it might be combined with that just to make this easier for me to write. All in all I know barely anything about prison tbh so some of this will probably be made up.

It also said somewhere that they have either different sections or prison for foreigners (take what you will idk for a fact) but for the story’s sake, Y/n will be in the same area as the rest of the main guys.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Cellmate

The male walks down the hall with two guards guiding him from both sides, passing the cells as some of the fellow inmates stare and call out to the newcomer whereas others stay in their own zone, not paying any mind to the nervous man who kept his gaze on the floor, his cuffed wrists in his peripheral. He only looks up when the prison guards halt in front of his designated cell.

After they motion for him to walk in, he complies, the men closing the door and locking it behind him before walking away. He only stares at the door in disbelief as he rubs his released wrists before turning, almost jumping out of his skin when he meets golden eyes.

“Who are you?” Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, shrugging before telling him that he couldn’t understand what he just said. The man smirks before nodding.

“I said, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Y/n.” The newcomer eyes the tiger tattoo on the other’s neck, feeling a little anxious as he glances at his obviously toned exterior.

“Hanemiya. You don’t look like you belong here.” He says as he walks to his futon, plopping on it as he leans his back on the wall. “What got you locked up?”

Y/n walks to his own spot, setting his blanket and sheet down, along with his pillow as he sorts them on the cushioned surface.

“W-well, it’s a long story.” He curses himself for stuttering before he sits, attempting to avoid eye contact with the intimidating glare placed on him.

“I’ve got time.” He shrugs in response before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it as the tobacco fills up the room. Y/n’s eyes widened as he frantically looked between Kazutora and the door.

“What are you doing? Won’t you get in trouble for that?” A chuckle falls from his lips.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette, Y/n slightly coughing as he turns his head.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s complic-.”

“Y/n, don’t annoy me. Say it.” He says with a stoic expression.

“I killed my brother.” Kazutora raises a brow.

“You?” He snickers in disbelief. Y/n nods with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It was an accident, anyway. Won’t be out of here for a while, though.” He said before lying down completely, staring at the ceiling. He turns his head slightly to meet Kazutora’s gaze. “What about you?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Y/n scoffs.

“Why not just say it now?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Before they could continue their conversation, the door opens to reveal a guard. Y/n stares in shock as he sees the guard ignoring his cellmate putting the cigarette out. He doesn’t even confiscate the makeshift ashtray. He announces their departure to the outside area, cuffing them in the process before guiding them down the hall.

“You’ll get to meet my… friends.” Kazutora says without a care for the rule that demands inmates to remain silent when walking with the guards. Y/n nods before eyeing them in confusion.

He must be someone important for them to ignore him. How weird. Guess I’ll find out.

When they reached the outside, they were released from the handcuffs. Y/n glanced around at the different inmates, ranging from biggest to smallest. He eyed the different ‘cliques’ sitting amongst each other, some sitting at different tables whereas others were busy working or exercising. Some stood around while they glared at the newcomer, eyeing him up and down.

Knowing he wanted to shrink under their gazes, he ignored his anxiety and puffed his chest out subtly, straightening his back to not reveal how scared shitless he was. Kazutora eyes him from the side before finding humor in his little display of strength, the word ‘cute’ being prominent in his mind.

“Come on. They’re over here.” He drags him by the wrist gently yet forceful enough to make him move along.

Peeking from behind Kazutora as they walk, Y/n eyes a table that stands out from the rest. A short silver -headed man sits on the table’s surface, his feet plastered on the seat as he’s bent over, arms resting against his legs. Next to him is a head full of pink, a person sitting next to the man but on the seat. Behind them were two purple haired men sitting beside each other facing the other way.

Y/n took a deep breath as they got closer, right before stopping in front of them, gaining a better angle of all of their features. His hand immediately goes to the back of his neck as his heart begins to pound, sweat sliding down as intense gazes bore into him, the twins turning their head to lock eyes with e/c.

“Who’s this puny little thing?” A silky voice says with amusement, a smirk falling under the lazy purple eyes as he runs a hand through his short hair.

“Why’d you bring this scrap to the King?” The pink haired man narrows his eyes at Kazutora who only gives a closed eye smile back.

“This is Y/n. He’s my cellmate.”

“Cellmate, huh? Who cares?” The purple mullet questions with a bored expression.

Y/n shifts uncomfortably as he listens to their discussion, though the only word he recognized was his own name, he couldn’t help but fidget amongst the sunken dark voids plastered on him. The energy emitting from all of these men, especially the one with scars, is anything but welcoming.

What the fuck was this dude thinking when bringing me here with these guys?

“Well he’s cute and could be useful.” Kazutora shrugs, walking to the short man’s left and plopping on the seat before bringing one leg up to rest his arm over, leaving Y/n to awkwardly stand in place.

“You didn’t care if he was useful. You’re just bored and horny.” The scarred man hissed in response, a sneer on his face as he side - eyed the brunette.

“Bitter, Sanzu?” He responded, challenging him with a smile.

“Enough.” Amused gazes fell as the quiet voice silenced the space.

Although he spoke to the group of intimidating men, his eyes never left Y/n’s orbs, the dull expression painted on his face.

What is this guy looking at? What are they even talking about? I just want this to be over.

“Sit.” Hesitantly, Y/n complies, following Kazutora’s hand tapping the seat in between him and the tall man. Fingers wrap around Y/n’s hand, bringing the appendage to soft lips.

“Call me Ran. This…” He motioned to the man sitting beside him. “…is my younger brother, Rin.”

“Ah, okay. Well nice to meet you.” Y/n sheepishly responded, nerves still wrecked by the aura these guys emit.

His hand is released before a tap on his shoulder causes him to turn toward Kazutora. He motions for him to lean closer as his lips hover over his ear.

“That guy in the middle is my bo… name is Mikey, but you’d call him whatever he tells you to.” He whispered, breath hitting against Y/n’s ear.

Well, I won’t be saying anything to this guy cuz after this I’m keeping my distance. He seems dangerous.

“Hikaru!”

Y/n looks around in confusion until he spots a man walking from behind them, landing in front of Mikey as the Haitani brothers stand up from their seats as well as Sanzu. They all face the male and his groupies who stood behind.

“What’s going on?” Y/n questions as he watches them speak in Japanese.

“Someone fucked up.” Kazutora responds. The vague information causes Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow as he watches the unknown man and his goons with the expression of nervousness on their faces.

Mikey gives a motion with his finger before the Haitanis, Sanzu, and Kazutora walk towards the group. Y/n gasps as Sanzu’s fist lands on Hikaru’s face, the guy immediately falling to the ground despite his size. The Hataini brothers and Kazutora began to beat the rest.

Y/n watches with wide eyes as skin makes contact with skin, the amount of blood causing the impacts to create this sick squelching sound as the wet skin is broken. He covers his mouth when he sees Sanzu pull out a small knife, turning his head before hearing the slice of skin along with a blood curdling scream. He looks around to see if anyone was watching only to find everyone minding their own business, including the prison guards who are purposefully turned the other way.

Who the fuck are these guys? Why’d I have to be a cellmate to one of them? I know I killed my brother but it genuinely wasn’t a malicious act. Defense is different compared to whatever this is.

When all the men were completely knocked out and near death, they stopped their assault, blood splattered on their own uniforms as they turned back to their seats. They say back down in the same spots while fixing up their hair and wiping excess blood from their skin.

Kazutora chuckled at Y/n’s disturbed expression. His hand squeezes his thigh with a slight caress of his thumb, smearing some of the red liquid on Y/n’s uniform.

“You’ll get used to it.”

No I won’t.

Y/n could only watch as the guards pulled the victims out of their eyesight without saying a word.

After a while, everyone was ordered to go to their rooms before dinner. Instead of going to the cafeteria, Kazutora and Y/n ‘sneak’ off to Mikey and Sanzu’s cell where the rest of them are as well. He tried to stay back, claiming to have wanted to get used to his cell life only for the tattooed man to pull him along.

They spoke about Kakucho picking them up and Kokonoi’s connections in releasing them soon. They have contact with few people who are messengers from the outside that come during visitation and update the executives. Of course, Y/n just sat there feeling out of place and a little stupid for not understanding them.

Why couldn’t everything with my brother happen at home instead of this place I barely know anything about? Why’d it have to happen during a vacation?

Mikey sits on his own futon, seeming to be a part of the conversation yet his eyes look heavy. It’s as if this guy hadn’t slept in months. Y/n couldn’t help the small feeling of pity to form as this man hadn’t smiled once though who’d want to smile in prison? It reminds him of when his brother would have episodes and they would terrify him as a kid because he could hear everything being thrown around and it would distract him from sleeping. Especially when the physical fights between his brother and his other siblings or mother would occur.

During the times they would all hide in their bedrooms, and the only way for him to fall asleep was his mother who would hum a lullaby or speak affirmations as she caressed his head and face until he fell asleep. Logically speaking, he knew to keep his mouth shut and mind his business. However, considering he’s going to be here a while, he decides to step out of his comfort zone and offer some help.

He is currently sitting on the dresser next to Kazutora in between Sanzu and Mikey’s futons.

“Um, excuse me?” He dares to gently poke the short man’s leg. Black eyes meet his colored orbs.

“Do you… can I help… help with your, uh sleep?” He asks while scratching the back of his neck. Mikey stares at him in wonder though it’s blocked by his stoic expression. Finding the question interesting considering nobody has ever asked him about his problem with sleeping, he turns his head to everyone else in the room.

“Leave.” Everyone, except Sanzu, pauses their conversation before hopping up and heading to the exit of the cell. Kazutora motions for Y/n to follow who hops up from the dresser, nervous that he had somehow pissed off this guy from not minding his business.

“Y/n stays.”

Kazutora looks at Mikey and then at Y/n in confusion. Y/n shrugs, still not completely understanding what’s happening, though not wanting to be left alone. Kazutora turns and walks out, leaving Y/n with Mikey and Sanzu.

“My king, why is he here?” Sanzu glares at Y/n.

“Fall back, Sanzu.” Mikey replies before motioning for Y/n to help him.

Y/n immediately positions himself on Mikey’s futon above his head that lies on a pillow, mimicking how his mom would position herself. Sanzu reluctantly lays on his own futon, still keeping an eye on Y/n for any suspicious activity.

A little uncomfortable at first, Y/n asks, “Can I touch you? Sorry if it’s a bit much but this is what my mother used to do. It won’t be lower than your head anyway.”

Surprisingly, he nods.

“I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work.”

Although Y/n’s breath hitched, he nodded and began quietly caressing Mikey’s hair, gently working through some of the tangles before he started lightly humming. When the tangles were gone he freely caressed and pushed his fingers through the silky hair, the whole process slow and tender. The tips of his fingers accidentally stroked the pale man’s face, causing his eyes to flutter close.

Y/n’s favorite part used to be falling asleep to the sweet affirmations his mother came up with so he began singing those positive words, hoping to bring some kind of comfort so he wouldn’t be killed. After a while, steady breathing could be heard, indicating that Mikey had fallen asleep. Y/n sighs in relief, so focused on the fact that what he did worked, he forgot the eyes that had been watching the display the entire time.

After he got up slowly, he made his way to the exit before being yanked back, pulled until his back met the floor with a thud. Legs climb on either side of him before Sanzu sits on top of him with the knife at his throat. His wrists are pinned above his head.

“What did you do to Mikey?” Sanzu hissed.

“W-what do you mean? I j-just sang him my mom’s lullaby and said affirmations!” He whispered - screamed, not wanting to wake up the man who promised him death.

Blue eyes pierce his own irises as he stares him down, gazing at the terrified expression on his face. An unexplainable warm feeling bubbles in Sanzu’s stomach as he eyed the new inmate’s features. Sanzu uses the knife to slice a small wound on his arm, eyeing the pained expression that is causing his face to heat up.

He’s always liked bringing pain and fear to others, especially those deemed as traitors or scraps. However, this gave him a different type of satisfaction. He watches as Y/n sucks his teeth in pain before biting his own lip. Tears forming in the corners of his eyes yet he keeps them in, not wanting to seem weak though they already see him as fragile, unknown to him.

“I didn’t do anything to hurt your king, just let me go!” Y/n says in frustration, not understanding what the real problem is. Sanzu quietly eyed his lips, soft and a little chapped though biteable regardless. Before he could lean down, his shirt is grabbed from behind and he’s pulled off of the man.

“Why are you scaring him?” Kazutora asks, rolling his eyes as he releases the pink haired menace and helps a shaken Y/n from the floor.

“It’s small but we still have to clean it. Thanks for the extra work, I guess.” Kazutora says with his eyes half lidded, walking out with Y/n, hand in hand. Sanzu eyes the blood on the knife before bringing it to his lips and licking it. He eyes Mikey once last time before setting the knife down and laying in his futon.

The next day, for the first time Y/n got to spend his time getting used to his schedule in the prison considering Kazutora had been gone since he woke up. He hadn’t seen any of them for the entire duration of the day and it was already past lunch. He’s currently reading a book in the common area, bored out of his mind as he tries to retain the information, to no avail. Rereading the same lines just so they’ll stick in his head.

Everything has been so weird. Life doesn’t feel the same and it feels like a new season to my own show. Makes sense considering the circumstances, though.

He eyes the bandaid in remembrance of the night before. He shudders, recollecting Mikey’s threat and Sanzu’s crazed glint in his eyes. He subconsciously rubs his wrist as he shakes off the anxiety to try and focus on the book. A figure sitting at his table caught his attention, causing him to lower his book and meet gazes with an unknown man.

“Don’t worry about any greetings. I came to warn you before it’s too late.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Newbie, I see you’re getting close to those crazy hair colored guys. Be careful, you don’t want to catch their attention.”

Too late for that.

“I know it’s hard and probably too late for that, but you gotta keep your distance without pissing them off somehow. They’re Bonten.”

“Bonten? What’s that?” The mystery guy’s eyebrows rose.

Y/n drops his book when the guy explains everything he knows about Bonten. Now everything is clicking. Especially when they beat those men to pulps and the guards did nothing.

“I-I’ve been talking to yakuza?” The guy nods.

“Well how am I supposed to not be around them when one of them is my cellmate and I’ve come into contact with all of them?”

“I don’t know, but you have to find a way. No matter if they like you or not, it’s not good to be in contact with those unpredictable psychopaths.”

“Oi Y/n. Is this guy bothering you?” Ran asks as he stands with a lit cigarette in hand, both men surprised as they turn their heads to meet with those lazy eyes.

“Sounds like you’re spouting bullshit, Yasu. I’d be careful running that mouth. You could lose your tongue.” Rin says with a smirk showing off his teeth.

The man known as Yasu eyes Y/n one more time. He nods at him before walking away.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” Ran throws his cigarette before motioning Y/n to follow. Although he wanted to stay in his spot, he knew that it would end badly for him if he didn’t listen.

He walks behind the brothers, leaving the common area and walking to a cell. The guards pay them all no mind as they walk into the room and shut the door.

The brothers sat on a futon, Ran pats the space in between them with a mischievous smile.

“I can sit on the other futon, there’s barely any room over there.” Y/n shrugs. He flinched when their gazes turned sour, a stoic expression that felt cold. The older brother pats the seat one more time with extra pressure. Y/n complies, sitting in between the brothers uncomfortably as the warmth from their bodies radiate against his own.

Y/n stares ahead at the opposite futon as the smiles reappear.

“So, Kazu said that you’re here for killing your brother. What’s that all about?” Rin questions. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow.

Guess I should’ve known he would’ve told them. Who asks something like that so carelessly?

“Well, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Why’d you kill him? Was it really an accident?”

“Yeah it was but I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hm, how do you accidentally kill your brother?”

Y/n hops up from his seat.

“I said I didn’t want to fucking talk about it! It’s none of your goddamn business!” He growls, angry at the persistent disrespect.

His eyes widen when his shirt is grabbed and he's pulled back onto the futon, roughly hitting the back of his head against the wall.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Ran taunts.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Y/n.” Rin states as his grip tightens on the shirt.

“Now get over your little hissy fit and answer our questions.”

Y/n stared back with a mixture of fear and anger.

This isn’t fair.

“I-I accidentally killed my brother because he was attacking our mother. He ended up killing her right before I killed him trying to save her.” Y/n held back tears, not wanting to break down from the memories of that night being brought up. Especially not in front of these men he barely knows.

Unfortunately, the tears fell on their own, though he didn't begin to cry they still streamed down his face. Both brothers watch the tears with amusement, finding the display of his uncontrollable emotions interesting. They couldn’t help their small smirks from forming. Rin releases his grip before Ran wipes his tears.

“Now was that so hard?” He taunted.

“Fuck you.” He says before he could stop it, too caught up in his own emotions to give a shit about his well being. He goes to stand up once more before he’s blocked from moving by a hand on his chest.

“Hey, we can make you feel better.” Ran says before pulling him back to his chest by holding his shoulders. Rin places Y/n’s legs on the bed before crawling in between them.

Y/n’s eyes widen, surprised by what is taking place. His eyebrows furrow as he uses his hands to stop Rin in place.

“W-wait!”

He was interrupted by the younger brother’s lips on his own. A hand wraps around his neck from behind as Ran’s breath hits his ear.

“Kiss back with no biting or I’ll break your wrist.”

Rin moves the hands pushing him back from his body, pinning them down as he leans into the kiss, eyes staring intently into Y/n’s wide gaze.

Considering he knew that their threats were promises, he gives back, moving his lips along though still with restraint. Ran squeezes his neck as his other hand runs down his side slowly, landing on his thigh as he pulls up once more. Y/n’s skin tingles from the contact through his uniform. He tears his gaze from Rin before pulling his face back.

Turning away only forces him to reveal his neck. The only sounds that could be heard were lips smacking against skin, Rin nibbling and suckling against Y/n’s neck. Behind him, he could feel a hard pressure against his lower back. He breathes heavily once he feels Ran’s fingers rolling and pulling his nipple.

“Guys, please wait.” He says as he struggles in the brother’s tight grips. He feels his wrist become released as a new pressure forms on his erection.

“You Sure about that?” Rin asks against his neck, lightly squeezing as emphasis. Y/n’s cock twitches in response, though he uses his free hand to push the younger Haitani back.

“Yes I’m sure!” He exclaims, frustration occurring as his emotions have been dragged all over the place. He gasps in pain as both his nipple and cock are squeezed tightly, bringing discomfort from the force.

“Haven’t you guys had enough of assaulting Y/n?”

Y/n sighs in relief as they stop from hearing Kazutora’s voice, the thankful man eyeing his standing figure.

When Rin pulls back and Ran releases Y/n, he awkwardly pushes himself off the bed, not even bothering to cover his hard - on in desperation of escaping out of the situation.

“Well, we were just getting started.” Ran shrugged. He kept his legs wide open without a care of his own erection showing through his pants.

Kazutora gives them a bored look before grabbing Y/n’s wrist and pulling him along. They walk down the hall, heading to their cells.

“You just can’t keep them off you, huh?” He snickers. Y/n gapes.

“I-I don’t even do anything! I’m so confused. Also why did you tell them about my brother, Hanemiya?”

“I already told you to call me Kazutora or Kazu, L/n. Don’t be a jerk.” Y/n’s eyes widened as they reached their cell. They walk in and shut the door before Y/n continues.

“I never told you my last name.”

“It’s not hard to find.” Kazutora shrugs.

“Why did you tell them about my brother?”

“I don’t like how you’re treating me after I just saved you, Y/n. I can talk about whatever I want.”

“Yeah, but they just used that shit against me! Fucking interrogating me about my own life because you ran your mouth!”

“That’s not my problem. I can’t control what they do.” He stares at Y/n with a stoic expression.

“It’s only the second day and there’s so much that has happened.” Y/n paces as he takes deep breaths, still angry from his interaction with the brothers.

“You’ve only had like two incidents.”

“Yeah I got threatened like 3 or 4 times, cut with a knife, and sexually assaulted.”

“Welcome to prison? I don’t know what you want me to say.” Kazutora chuckles.

I know I’m in prison but this is a lot, or am I just overreacting? My emotions felt valid but now I’m second guessing it all.

Y/n drops on his futon and turns over into a fetal position. Numbness taking over as the feeling of loneliness crept in. He covered his whole body, including his head with his blanket. Kazutora sighs.

“I’ll help you rest, yeah?”

Although Y/n shook his head no, he didn’t push Kazutora away when he sat above his head and began to caress him while humming the tune he listened to when he was eavesdropping on Y/n and Mikey. The melody echoes through the quiet room as Y/n drifts off to sleep, Kazutora watching the entire time after he pulls the cover off of his head. Once he woke up, Kazutora was nowhere in sight. A guard took his place, telling him that it was time for showers.

Once he is guided to the showers, the guard releases him. He walks to one of the faucets and turns it on while placing his supplies next to him, along with his towel and clean uniform. He undresses and he washes his body as well as his hair, adding shampoo when needed along with conditioner. Once he’s finished with his hair, he focuses on soaping his body up and rinsing. Once he turns the faucet off he dries himself off before lathering himself with lotion and applying deodorant. He dresses himself and heads to his cell to drop his stuff off before dinner.

When he reached the cafeteria, he went to the line. He grabbed his tray of food and looked for seating. He found an empty table and sat, the group he knew non-existent. Once he finished eating, he throws his stuff out and exits along with a guard. He grabs his hygienic supplies for the bathroom before heading there.

When he reaches the room, he hears thuds and impacts. Furrowing his eyebrows, he minds his own business, beginning to brush his teeth before he looks through the mirror at a familiar guy getting stabbed repeatedly.

“Yasu!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. The group of men scurry off when they’ve been caught, giving menacing looks as they leave a beaten and bloodied Yasu on the ground, laying in his own pile of blood and bathroom grime.

“No, no, no!” Y/n yells out as he crouches over. Sure they barely know each other but Yasu was a nice enough guy to warn Y/n of prison troubles. He didn’t deserve this brutal death.

��Y-y/n!” He coughs out. “Th-they did this. St-stay away!” He gasps as he gags on his own blood.

“Y/n.” The voice startles Y/n as he looks at the culprit. He breathes in fear as he sees Mikey and his mad dog staring at the pair.

“We need to talk.”

“I-I would need to drop my stuff off in my room.” He says as he stands from his position, moving away from the dying man.

“The guard will do it.” Mikey responds before turning on his heel, walking out of the bathroom. Sanzu follows as Y/n hurries behind them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! How am I supposed to stay away from them? They’ll hurt me if I reject them.

“Uh…um Mikey? I’m pretty tired. Could this wait till the morning, maybe?”

They all halt their movements. Only Sanzu turns to side eye Y/n.

“How dare you question the King?” Mikey holds a hand up to Sanzu.

“Come on, Y/n.”

They all begin walking towards Mikey and Sanzu’s cell. They walk in before the guards lock the door behind them. Sanzu pulls Y/n on the futon while he sits behind him, mimicking Ran’s position from a few hours before only this time, their feet were plastered on the floor.

“Uh, what’s going on? Why am I here?”

“My king wanted to thank you for last night.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “So be grateful to his generosity.” He grips Y/n’s waist, his nails digging into his sides through the fabric causing him to flinch.

When Y/n saw Mikey position himself on his knees, the idea flew through his head.

“Oh, uh! Mikey! You don’t need to do this!” He exclaims. He uses his hands to block Mikey which did nothing considering Sanzu helped him undo his jumpsuit.

When his chest was revealed, they completely forced it off of his arms as Sanzu circled his arms back around Y/n’s waist. Mikey pulled the suit completely off as well as pulling down Y/n’s underwear.

“You’re already hard.” Mikey murmured, wrapping his hand around the veiny girth.

Mikey dragged his tongue up the length before circling his lips around the head. The cock twitches as he sucks softly before dropping his mouth all the way to the base, deep throating the length as he holds it there before pulling back and repeating the process. Y/n holds back from moaning as he bites his lip, his fingers digging into the futon and grabbing the blanket. His head drops on Sanzu’s shoulder as the pinkette dips his head low, biting the skin on his neck until he draws blood and a cry out of that pretty mouth.

Mikey continued bobbing his head as he accelerates, gag reflex non-existent as he takes the dick in his throat like a pro. Saliva and precum drip down the length and stain the corners of his mouth as he sucks it all the way in. He stops for a moment before sucking his own fingers thoroughly, allowing saliva to drip down his hand as he wets his fingers. Sanzu takes the opportunity to grab Y/n’s thighs and pull his legs back to give Mikey more of an opening.

As he pushes the finger in, he takes his cock in his mouth once more. Y/n clenched around the finger as his cock throbs. Sweat drips down his forehead as he rocks his hips forward in reflex, a small groan escaping his lips as Mikey eyes him from below.

“Feels good?” Sanzu whispers in his ear.

Although the pleasure is overtaking the pain from his ass, Y/n doesn’t want to enable what they’re doing so he ignores him. Only for nails to dig into his thighs roughly, leaving indents and small bleeding cuts. Sanzu’s cock twitches at the way Y/n’s body reacts to the pain by tensing and yelping.

“Tell me, Y/n. Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” He exclaims in pain when Mikey adds two other fingers at the same time, angling it to his prostate as he sucks his cock faster. Y/n’s hips rock as his spot is beaten and cock is engulfed by warmth. His mouth hangs open as he closes his eyes. His back moves against Sanzu’s erection through his fabric causing him to give small moans in his ear, pressing it harder against his back. The sound of Mikey’s wet mouth rubbing against his cock brought a warm sensation to his stomach, his body tenses as he convulses, finally releasing into his throat as the short man swallows it all.

They all breathe heavily when it’s over, Sanzu and Mikey’s cocks are completely hard and ready for a release. Not wanting to rile them up further, Y/n jumps out of their holds and quickly puts his underwear and jumpsuit on before rushing out of the room. Embarrassment colors his face as he damn near runs to his cell.

They’re using me as some fucking toy because they’re bored. They’re taking me as some kind of whore they can do whatever they want with at anytime and it’s not fucking fair.

When he reaches his cell, he immediately goes to his bed and covers himself, drifting off to sleep after a while of shameful sulking.

“Rise and shine, Y/n. Time for us to go.” Kazutora smiles.

Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re being released from prison.” He states with excitement.

Y/n sits up with his eyebrows furrowed.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette…

“Yeah you’re leaving, but I’m supposed to be here for years.”

“Then why did the guard come to release you as well?”

“Hurry up inmates, we’re on a schedule.”

“We’re not inmates anymore.” Kazutora sticks his tongue out.

The entire process of release Y/n was very confusing as he followed the guards and rest of the yakuza out of the prison. After they walk out in the original clothes they wore when they were imprisoned, Kazutora pulls Y/n to the black tinted car that’s waiting for their arrival.

Y/n hesitates.

“Wait, this means this is a goodbye. I’m going home.”

Kazutora halts his movement, still gripping Y/n’s wrist before turning to face him with a smile.

“You are coming home Y/n. Why do you think we went through the trouble of breaking you out?”

“What?”

“Yeah. You have nobody else nor your mother’s home anymore so where else would you go? Who else would’ve picked you up?”

“N-no, my siblings…”

“Your siblings abandoned you here. They didn’t want to be around a murderer.” Kazutora’s face turned stoic as he spoke.

“Don’t say that. It’s not like that and you know it!” He yanks his wrist out of Kazutora’s grip.

“I’m just saying their point of view. It doesn’t matter anyway considering they’re all dead.”

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Hanemiya?” Y/n exclaims.

“I’m just telling you the truth, L/n.”

“No, did you and your goons do something to them?”

“I’d watch what comes out of my mouth if I were you. Come on.” He yanks Y/n along as they walk to the car. Y/n pushes him away as he yanks his arm back though Kazutora doesn’t release in the slightest. His grip tightens painfully as it causes Y/n to almost drop to his knees, his free hand grabbing Kazutora’s wrist in reflex.

“Let me go, Kazutora!”

“Go where? You have nowhere else to go. You should be grateful.”

“Y/n!” A voice sung, interrupting their dispute.

He gasps in response as he sees a gun pointed in his direction from a certain pink - haired fiend.

“Be a doll and get in the car, yeah?”

With one last look at the golden eyed man with anger plastered on his expression, he makes his way to the car, Kazutora walking behind him.

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redflagshipwriter · 7 months ago

Text

Nest Swap 6

masterpost

Mrs. Henderson was a lot friendlier with that explanation. He was grateful because that gave him a little space to think about escape plans. “You’re lucky I was here at all,” Mrs. Henderson chattered. “Goodness knows I’ll be out of town soon. My grandson is getting married this weekend, down in that shithole Metropolis.” She shut the window that he’d come in through, which looked a little difficult with her mace wedged in her armpit.

It would probably be really nice if her walker had a ledge for storage on it, Tim thought. He let his eyes glaze over a little bit as he imagined how he would design it. He ended up following the retiree through her house to the wall that he knew connected with the other apartment. The door stuck out because it kind of looked like an outside door: sturdier than a door usually needs to be inside.

Mrs. Henderson optimistically tried the door that internally connected the duplex. It rattled a rejection. “He never used to keep this locked,” she lamented. She gave up with a sigh and put her mace back on the display case a few feet away.

Tim hummed and bounced on his heels. He thought that made sense. If Jason wanted the neighbor man investigated, he probably had stuff to hide. Tim would lock out his neighbor, too.

“That's too bad,” Tim lamented. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I guess I'll go back to my Mom.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

Tim froze. Mrs. Henderson started walking to her kitchen. . Her long robe dragged behind her about an inch on cold hardwood floors. “You can wait for a while with me.”

Oh. Oh, this wasn’t great.

On the one hand, he would get to see the sausage man if Mrs. Henderson let him wait with her. On the other hand, he was going to know that Tim had lied about being a relative, and he would probably say so.

Tim followed Mrs. Henderson a bit woodenly and climbed up onto the stool on autopilot as she leaned over to the sink. Heck. What did he do? He searched his mind for a reference he could rely on. He had nothing.

‘I’m not a very good vigilante,’ Tim thought sadly. He kicked his feet against the bars of the stool and then suddenly stopped when Mrs. Henderson glanced over at him. She flicked the red light on on her kettle. ‘I should have watched more spy movies.’

He made a silent promise to himself to study before he went into action again. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this, but once he did, he was going to learn from it. A few minutes passed before Mrs. Henderson poured the hot water into mugs and then stirred something.

“Do you like marshmallows?”

Tim blinked. Like, merengue? “I have sophisticated tastes,” he answered on autopilot. Then he wondered why she’d asked.

She laughed. “Me too.” She opened a bag and dumped a pile of sweets into the tea.

His brain shut down a little at the audacious display of dietary recklessness. “Thank you,” he said, and accepted the mug with both hands. He peered down and breathed in the sweet steam.

It was weirdly dark tea. And- really, really sweet-smelling. He sniffed it cautiously and then took a look at his hostess.

“It’s hot,” she warned, and then took a cautious sip of her own.

Tim copied her out of well-bred reflex and instantly coughed. It was thick. Why was it thick? “What kind of tea is this?” His voice squeaked up high.

Mrs. Henderson snorted brown liquid out her nose and then cried out in pain. Tim startled but she kept laughing, hand pressed over her face.

“... It's not tea,” Tim said. He took another suspicious taste. Now that he wasn't expecting something else, he could identify chocolate. “Wow. My mom wouldn't give this to me.” He slurped up a marshmallow. Then he froze because Mrs. Henderson had put a hand over the top of his cup.

“Do you have allergies?” Her dark eyes were serious underneath her eyeglasses.

“Prawns,” Tim supplied. “That's all.”

Mrs. Henderson took her hand away. “Ah. There's no prawns in there, so….” She pursed her lips. “Well, I was a scout when I was your age. I have to peddle sweets to show my pride.”

“You what?” Tim leaned a little closer.

She blinked at him and then took another sip of her chocolate. “You know, scouts? They sell cookies?”

Wow. Tim hid his reaction to that. Were things really that bad in public schools? She'd been working at 9? That was brutal and unjust. Tim worried his lip between his teeth for a few moments before he decided that he really did have to say something.

“That seems unjust,” he said. Tim worried that it was a little rude to say so, but he didn't want people to think he approved of child labor.

She choked on her chocolate again.

A car door slammed on the other side of the building. When his hostess cleared her throat, there were tears in her eyes. She patted at Tim's hand. “You can come back anytime you want, honey,” she said, in a funny voice. “Your Uncle is home! That was his door. I'll walk you around.”

Tim stood up. “No, I'm fine!” He chirped. His heart thudded in his chest. “Thank you so much!” He went to the door a lot faster than she could, pulled it open, and then felt bad. “The drink was really good,” he added, and then he hopped out and shut the door behind him.

“Oh. Hello.” A middle-aged man stood on the sidewalk outside of the duplex. He had a huge duffle bag over his shoulder and he was sort of leaning as if it was heavy. He eyed Tim and Mrs. Henderson’s door with a sort of sharp, calculating expression. “...Visiting my neighbor?”

Ah. His stomach wrenched.

Tim flashed a gala-ready smile up at the sausage guy, deploying maximum cuteness. “Yepp!” He chirped. “I’m her grandson.”

‘Don’t be suspicious,’ he chanted internally. ‘Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious.’

Sausage man frowned a little. “...Not the one who is getting married?” he asked in a funny voice. “I thought she only had the one.” He eyed Tim a little harder. “And, not to be rude, but i would have assumed he’d also be Black.”

Oh. Heck. Jason’s bad guy was definitely getting suspicious of him. He needed to deflect, fast.

“I was joking!” Tim giggled. “You’re funny. No, I’m a scout selling cookies.” He straightened his posture to look like a child with stable employment. “Do you want some?”

“...Cookies?” he clarified. “Not popcorn?”

“Definitely cookies,” said Tim, who had just learnt this fact today. “It’s okay, it’s confusing.”

Sausage man cocked his head to the side, opened his mouth, and then apparently thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Yes, actually, I love those cookies.” The man readjusted his duffle bag. “Do you have an order form?” He held out a hand expectantly.

Tim eyed it and resisted the urge to fling himself off the two concrete steps separating him from the lawn. “Not with me,” he bluffed. “What kind do you want?”

“You’re not going to just remember my order,” said the Sausage man, who was beginning to look genuinely irritated. He took a half a step closer. His heavy bag swung. Tim stole a glance down at it. Sausage man followed his gaze and then looked back at Tim. He narrowed his eyes and he smiled.

It did not feel like a nice smile.

“Why don’t you come in?” he said, and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “No one is waiting for you, right?”

“My boyfriend is,” Tim lied immediately. It was kind of true.

Sausage man snorted, because he didn’t know that Jason was going to kick his ass. “That’s probably alright,” he said, amused. He squeezed down on Tim’s shoulder a little. Tim tensed. He needed help, he needed an adult-

“There’s my mom!” Tim chirped. The man let go like he thought Tim was on fire. Tim took advantage of the moment and ducked under the Sausage man’s arm. His heart was pounding so hard. “I’ll see you later, bye!” He sprinted down the walkway and turned left onto the real sidewalk without slowing down.

Haha, sucker. Janet wasn’t even there! And the guy just believed him when he said he saw his Mom? Ridiculous! She was probably in Peru or in a board meeting! He pumped his arms a little harder until he realized that he wasn’t being chased.

The sausage man didn’t chase after him or call out. When Tim stole a look backwards, he saw the door pulling shut.

“Whew,” said Tim, slowing down. “That went okay. Except I didn’t learn anything.”

…He could try again tomorrow.

#red nest swap #tim drake deaged

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dontcxckitup · 2 months ago

Text

NI - Pt1

Drabble that got too long so it will have multiple parts/FF Gareth Mallory's recollection of his capture in Northern Ireland Setting: late 1980s/1990s, before his job at the MoD

Upon entering, the room was neither radiating comfort, nor friendliness – which should have been the case, technically. On the contrary, though: it was lacking all kinds of warmth, was cold and sterile, with a feeble attempt of a book collection on a bookshelf that had already seen better days. So not really helpful with intrusive thoughts and the already growing feeling of uneasiness. It actually woke memories from another place – a place he had learned to know by heart…

The walls naked and grey; the plaster chipped at some places, revealing the red bricks underneath. There are supposed to be windows showing the bright, lush world outside, but they are locked up with wooden boards. The only source of light in the entire room is a naked lightbulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling, dangling from its wire like a poor hanged man.

“Lieutenant Colonel?” He jolted out of the memory, forcing his gaze away from the light above them. The man had said something, but clearly he hadn’t heard him – his thoughts having been far away. Like so often now. His focus kept wavering lately, his mind drifting. Only one of the little gifts he had been given. The man before him, with his greying hair and the glasses on his nose, was looking at him expectantly. Clearly he had said something, but he wasn't sure what. Had he asked about his well-being? How he had found the way here? Was it smalltalk, or had that bloody session begun already?

He had been forced to come here, didn't actually want to be here and bare his soul and innermost thoughts - or memories, for that matter. "If you want back into active duty, you have to go to therapy first." Those had been the words thrown at him. He didn't need this, though. He didn't need to sit down twice a week and tell a complete stranger about what had happened to him. He was perfectly fine without this. The man was still staring, and now he could even see an eyebrow rising, waiting for an answer. "I'm...I apologise." His voice was quiet, barely able to rise. "I was--" "Your thoughts drifted away?" Oh, he hated this. People cutting in. As if he couldn't answer himself! Their eyes locked, and he was pretty sure the man - doctor - could read his thoughts in this moment. Stupid, of course, no one could read thoughts.

"I know what you're thinking." A cough interrupts the other, as his body is desperately trying to get the water out of his lungs. They are bursting, burning, at the same time pushing out water as they are trying to get air back in. His head suddenly snaps back as the man grabs him by his hair and pulls it back, forcing him to look up and into his ragged face. Still he probably looks better than him; at least he can shave and wash himself. "You're thinking...why are they doing this?" He grins down at him, and Gareth, gathering saliva in his mouth, stares back. Grimacing, he sucks in a breath, then spits into the other's face. It gives him a short-lasting feeling of gratification to see the disgusted face - before he feels the push. Next thing he knows, his head is underwater once more, one hand in his neck, the other in his hair, holding him where he is, not giving him an inch to move. And this time...this time it lasts longer than any time before; this time his lungs finally give in and he passes out from the lack of oxygen.

"They do that sometimes, don't they?" The man before him asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. "Where are they going, Mister Mallory? Where...have you gone just now?" "I'm...a bit tired, that's all." "Of course you are." Of course you are? A frown furrowed his brow for a moment. What the hell did he know? What did this man know? Nothing. He knew nothing, because Gareth hadn't said anything, because what had happened to him wasn't in any file. Only the physical wounds, the state he had been found in, while this doctor, oh-so-smart, had been sitting in his little armchair with his little notepad and pen and had jotted something down while others had told them about their day. It had probably been nothing but his grocery list, or notes on how boring these sessions were. So no, that man knew absolutely nothing. He probably didn't even know what 'tired' really meant. Lying naked on an ice-cold conrete floor, curled up, with every bone and nerve and inch of the skin hurting...

...unsure when they will come again, when the next wave of pain washes over him. Unable to sleep because the light above him is so bright he can still see it through his closed eyes. Because the pain won't stop; it won't numb, it only grows stronger. It is an illusion to think he will be able to sleep when they untie him from the chair and he can lie down. A beautiful illusion, but an illusion nonetheless. He can't stretch his legs because it hurts too much. His hands are tied together by the wrists, the rope so tight he can barely feel his stiff and cold fingers. Speaking of the cold...it is freezing. He has lost track of the date, but it must be some time in late December. Is it Christmas? Or has it passed already? There is no light coming in through the window, so he doesn't even know if it is day, or night. No watch to show what time it is - they have taken his, along with his clothes, as punishment for his attempted escape. All he can do now, when he has the luxury to lie on the ground, is to curl up and pull his knees against his chest to try and keep his body warm - at least a bit. Sleep, however, doesn't happen. Every time his eyes do close, they jolt open again. His senses are on high alert. They hear things that aren't there, the smallest noises, always afraid someone will enter the room and he has to prepare himself for the next blow. He can't remember the last time he has slept, but every time they come to him, he wishes he will finally pass out, get the sleep he hasn't had in so long, if only for a little while.

( @diaryofalanguagesstudent @honey-lets-fucking-run @jo-m-portman-rp @kingofthewebxxx @lonelydragon62

@corinnebaileyrp @theresastargirl @tealeavesandthorns @brokenthimbles )

#;hc

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m0rbidmacabre · 1 year ago

Text

The Latin Professor

You are a student of his, the cardinal… your crush seems to be getting out of hand and your embarrassment begins to rise as the cardinal offers to help you study for your upcoming Latin test.

1110 words

(Hey guys, I know it's been a long time since I have written anything… i guess this me trying to get back into the flow of writing. This part isn't very long.. But I wanted to introduce the characters, and how they are with each other before switching. This is probably only going to published on tumbler as my confidence is shot at the moment. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none so far…

The Latin Professor

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part three

Cardinal Copia had never been the most popular of people, even when he ascended to cardinal in his early adulthood. People always saw him as uptight, scholarly and tiresome. You however… You didn’t see him that way, you saw a handsome, knowledgable man with an undeniably strong work ethic, but you kept your opinions to yourself, afraid your peers would jeer at you for your crush on the cardinal.

This particular day you were working hard in the library, studying for your upcoming language assessment in Latin. You were starting to think that taking the extra course wasn’t the best of your ideas. It wasn’t that you were inept of learning, it was the fact the Cardinal taught the latin class, while you admire him for his efforts in trying to teach you... The class always ended with you daydreaming about him. He would be stood teaching you, making sure your pronunciation was perfect, and all you could think about was how you would like his hands all over you and his perfect mouth in places that would make lucifer himself blush. This often leads to you losing your train of thought and embarrassing yourself even more in front of him. The cardinal most likely thought you were ditsy, a poor student, but if he did… he never let you think that. His praise was never something he kept to himself around you.

As you were flicking through the pages of Latin for dummies, your head in your hands as you struggle to take in the words on the page in front of you, you hear a small cough from behind you. You let out a big huff in annoyance, the last thing you needed right now was siblings bothering you when you needed to study. you slam the book closed and turn in your seat. Your anger quickly turning to embarrassment the moment you notice that it wasn’t a sibling, but the cardinal stood behind you.

“Are you studying hard for your test Sorella?” the cardinal said to you as your face turned a beetroot shade of red.

“I am cardinal, yes. I’m sorry, I thought you were a sibling” you quietly reply shifting in your seat and tidying up your hair... Anything to keep yourself distracted from the awful truth you had just huffed at him. Keeping your temper in check was never your strong suit and you had just shown that to the person you admire most.

“Si, Si… Why don’t you take a break from your studies? You seem frustrated. I hear the gardens look beautiful this afternoon. Would you like to take a walk? I could help you with your studies.” The cardinal offering a small smile to you, his attempt at comforting you, not once questioning your temper.

“Oh, erm… are you sure? Are you not too busy? You quickly answered him, in an attempt to remind him of his duties, in another attempt to avoid him.

“Oh Sorella, I could take some time for my favourite student, si?” he beamed back at you. You felt your stomach grow warm the moment he called you his favourite student, how could you say no? you simply couldn’t.

“Okay…” you smile at him picking up your books, and then offering him your hand to help you up. He obliges and as you stand up, he tucks your arm into his keeping it effortlessly close to him.

Walking though the ministry you both barely say more than a few words to each other. Both of you happy to walk in comforting silence. You steal a glance at the cardinal as you both reach primos gardens, his eyes firmly on the path in front of you both... You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked when he walked with purpose. “The gardens do look beautiful today, maybe a little more because you’re here…” you thought to yourself as the smile eclipsed your lips.

“How about we sit here Sister?” the cardinal asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Erm... Sure, sure” you quickly answered, hoping he didn’t notice the fact you were completely lost in thought.

You both sat down under the willow tree together, the sun making its presence known, casting shadows on the ground that dance though the low-hanging leaves of the tree.

The cardinal turns to you “et soror, ubi incipimus?” (so sister, where do we start?)

You smile at him; you love hearing him speak Latin, he always speaks with such passion. You pull out your book and flick though the pages, looking to formulate an answer for him.

“lets 'legere cardinal” (let's read Cardinal) you goofily answer him. Your answer made him smile so sweetly at you, he always liked your willingness to try.

“Perfect, Sorella!” he answered you. You smile at him, his praise sending you a little pink.

You carried on flicking the pages of the book, and the cardinal sat close by, his legs crossed under his cassock. Your eyes darted the pages as you both sat together.

“Now sister, tell me, how do you say beautiful”

“Pulchra, Cardinal” you answered him, quickly.

“Si… Sister, now can you write it for me?”

You take out your pen and set about writing out the word beautiful, the cardinal shifting in closer to watch that you are doing it correctly. You spell out the word on your pad, saying the word as you write... Mimicking each letter as you spell it. The Cardinal smiles at your efforts and leans in “you see this here Sister? It should be written like this… if you don’t mind...”. Taking your hand, he corrects the word you had just written, lovingly moving with you as you both spell out the words together. “Like this…” he adds, smiling at you. Your eyes drift to the pen and your hand, his hand is placed around yours… and all you can do is look with the embarrassment slowly setting in. You quickly remove your hand, the pen falling to the page and the cardinal removing his just as fast as both of your eyes meet.

“Sorella, I’m sorry... I was only trying to help” the cardinal said to you shyly, his own embarrassment setting in. His face hinting at a pink tint as he waits for your reaction.

“No, cardinal… it’s ok... I have to go... I’m sorry...” you collect your book, slamming it shut and getting to your feet. Running away from the scene before you die of embarrassment. You ache to look back, but your heart won’t let you as you quickly run through the ministry and slam your dorm room closed behind you.

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost fandom #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia #papa copia #papa emeritus 4 #fanfic #copia my beloved #popia copia #copia emeritus #copia x reader

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i-am-too-sick · 15 days ago

Text

5 times Quinn was sick for his birthday

5.)

'Twas the evening of Christmas, when all through the house, barely a creature was stirring and Quinn would not arouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, and Orrin hoped soon their mother would be there.

Quinn lied alone in his bed, feeling absolutely miserable. That was where he'd been since shortly after making it home yesterday. He managed to socialize with his family a bit, hearing about Orrin's time at school and sharing his own experiences from work and class. A deep aching tiredness had taken hold hours before he'd arrived, and after finally admitting that he didn't feel well. He forewent dinner and saw himself to his room, wanting nothing more than to be horizontal in bed.

He was restless throughout the night, unable to find a position comfortable enough to keep his whole body from aching. Aside from being on his feet all day when he worked at the clinic, he wasn't an overly active person by nature, and he couldn't fathom what he could have done to leave his muscles in so much pain.

Christmas morning rolled in, his birthday, and Quinn woke to the sounds of Orrin clamoring and Ruby barking around the Christmas tree, eager to open gifts. Even as a moody 15-year-old, Quinn loved how his brother still retained his childlike excitement on Christmas morning.

The smell of his mother's coffee wafting in from the kitchen, usually such a welcomed and pleasant smell, now turned his stomach and made him groan. The sound irritated his sore throat and he coughed into his pillow.

He curled into a ball and closed his eyes, drawing the covers over his shoulders. Why was he suddenly so cold? Perhaps it was the snow that had started falling last night...

The next time he awoke it was to a tap, tap, tapping sound on his bedroom door. It took him an agonizingly long time to realize what the sound was and where it was coming from. His head was throbbing and his mind felt muddled and slow.

"Come in..." he croaked, devolving into a fit of coughs shortly after.

The door opened and Orrin stepped in cautiously. "You sound like shit."

"Language," Quinn reprimanded automatically.

He shivered, groping around for his comforter. Where—? There it was, at the foot of the bed and completely out of his reach unless he sat up and pulled it toward him. He must have kicked it off at some point.

Orrin stepped further into the room, setting down a glass of water on Quinn's nightstand and standing awkwardly beside the bed. "You look awful," he said.

Quinn turned away from him and coughed. "I feel awful." Realization dawned on him and he leaned back away from his brother. "You probably shouldn't get too close."

Orrin rolled his eyes and huffed. More than anything, he hated being fretted over, but because of his heart condition, others were frequently trying to look out for his well-being, much to his annoyance.

"Are you contagious?"

Quinn considered his question for a minute. He palmed his forehead, then touched his cheek with the back of his hand. "Do I have a fever?"

Orrin extended his hand, laying it against Quinn's forehead. "You're hot."

"Why, thank you." The blush that flared up on his brother's cheeks was almost worth it, but the subsequent punch to the arm was not. "Ow... Sorry, I couldn't help it." He cleared his throat, wincing. "But to answer your question, yes, it's highly likely I'm contagious."

"Mom said she'd be home in a couple hours," Orrin said, changing the subject. The blush was still prominent, especially on his ears, and he kept his eyes cast downward, obviously still embarrassed brother's attempt at humor. "You can have Christmas Eve leftovers and we can finally open presents."

"Oh, bud, I'm not hungry," Quinn said. He was only vaguely nauseous, and while he was sure nothing would come from it, the thought of food just seemed unappealing right now. "Wait—you haven't opened gifts yet?"

Orrin scoffed. "Mom wanted to wait until you were feeling better."

Quinn sighed. "I don't think that'll be anytime soon. You should open them when she gets home. I'm sorry you had to wait."

Orrin shrugged, playing nonchalant. "It is what it is."

"Thanks for bringing the water, but you really should stay clear of here so you don't get sick," Quinn started. "If you want, you can open your gift from me. I don't tell Mom."

Orrin's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Quinn nodded. "Knock yourself out."

Before Orrin darted from the room, he did Quinn the tremendous favor of pulling up the sheets for him, probably seeing how Quinn's body was wracked with fever chills.

Quinn pulled the covers close again, listening to the faint sounds of tearing wrapping paper from down the hall. If he couldn't enjoy Christmas right now, at least he could make sure his brother did.

#5 times quinn was sick for his birthday #illness #my writing #my ocs #quinn #orrin #merry christmas ya filthy animals

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mandu-17 · 2 years ago

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Yours only | Song Yuqi x fem! reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Requests: 1) May I request a Yuqi x fem reader hurt comfort smut (top yuqi if your comfortable) where Reader gets jealous of Lucas so Yuqi assures her that she has nothing to worry about

2) when ur ready do u wanna do a yuqi fic for me? preferably suggestive or smut tbh cus her deep voice has been on my mind these days (when is it not)

Warnings: Curse words, jealousy

Genre: Smut

Wordcount: ~ 1,409

A/N: so i combined these two requests into one fic, i really like the dialogues here:)

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

You couldn’t believe your own eyes, while peeking outside the window of your shared apartment with Yuqi.

There she was in a white, elegant shirt with sunglasses pushed up on her hair glancing up at you from time to time, but in a way Lucas wouldn’t even notice. Besides, he was way too captivated by every word that escaped your girlfriend. There was no way you’d miss it throughout out the whole day. Frankly speaking, you were furious by now. Once all three of you arrived at your street, you excused yourself, refusing to spend any more time in the company of Chinese idols.

What was supposed to be a fun day out with Yuqi and her friend, turned out to be incredibly awkward. At first, you appreciated Lucas’ will to be the gentleman and open the door for two of you or how he had no problem with getting extra napkins for everyone. You took it as a sign that he was extremely well-mannered, but it didn’t change the fact that no matter how much you tried to, you had no idea how to talk to him. Lucas and you were from two totally different worlds. Only Yuqi was able to fill long moments of silence although with her social skills, it was probably a piece of cake for her.

The fact that Lucas kept on sending Yuqi these puppy eyes, whenever he thought she nor you weren’t looking or how his smile never disappeared while listening to her stories - it was getting out of hand. Even someone blind would see it.

The worst thing in this situation though, was that Yuqi seemed to know what was going on as well and didn’t react.

Your girlfriend was amused at the sight of your clenched jaw and how often you’d roll your eyes. She wanted to tease you, you quickly realized when her hand squeezed your thigh harshly under the table at a restaurant. You almost gasped in shock, but luckily were able to cover it up with cough causing her to smirk.

Now, two hours after dinner, Yuqi finally joined you upstairs in your apartment.

“Lucas wanted to ask about my opinion on his newest choreography, that’s why it took so long.” You heard your girlfriend explain from the entrance hall, where she was taking her shoes off.

Then, she happily marched into the living room and joined you on the couch. Uninterested, you only hummed.

“Did you enjoy today?” Yuqi raised her eyebrow, her face close to yours as she wanted to watch your expression carefully.

“Not really.” You crossed your arms with a frown, before willing to meet her big eyes. “And you know it.”

“Baby, you can’t be serious!” Yuqi’s head tilted to the side, mouth hanging slightly open. “Were you perhaps... jealous? Of me?”

Oh, how she was enjoying herself in that moment.

One glare from you was equal to an answer, you decided. You were far from laughing.

“Y/N, talk to me.” Suddenly Yuqi’s voice went few tones lower.

You gulped, surprised to hear it out of nowhere. Yuqi knew how you reacted to it, how your body reacted to it was especially her favorite part. She gave you shivers. Pleasant ones.

“Do I need to repeat myself, baby girl?” One of her hands started to trace small patterns on your inner thigh and the other circled around your waist.

“N-no.” Fuck, you shouldn’t stutter right now.

“Exactly, now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Yuqi nibbled on the skin of your throat, her breaths tickling you.

“I... I was jealous. Lucas likes you a lot.” Your heartbeat quickened, you could feel hot blush spreading onto your cheeks. A part of you loathed that Yuqi was able to make you so flustered within few minutes, but another part- God, you were getting so turned on.

“He likes me, because we’re friends. There’s nothing more to this.” One of Yuqi’s fingers guided your chin to the side making your noses meet softly. “Got it, baby?”

You had two options.

One, to agree with her and finally feel her lips on yours.

Two, to stay stubborn and have some more fun.

Number two seemed more appealing.

“I don’t know, he wanted to impress you all day, even showed you his choreography. Are you sure he doesn’t have a crush on you or anything?” You sucked in your breath after finishing the sentence. You never knew what to expect from Yuqi whenever she used her deep voice. It was like she turned into a different person.

“He values my opinion. So does everybody else.” One corner of her lips raised a bit.

Bluffing Yuqi - probably your favorite kind of Yuqi.

“Now are we clear? Will you be a good girl from now on?”

Yes.

How could you not be a good girl when she was swallowing you with her hungry eyes. Instead of replying, you closed the distance and sighed in relief when you felt Yuqi kissing you back. You just couldn’t help yourself.

“Come here.” Yuqi’s strong arms brought you closer, onto her lap. She squeezed your ass once you straddled her properly.

“Yuqi.” You moaned into her mouth, your back arched instinctively making you grind down on her lap.

“Not so fast, angel.” She grabbed your hips having you stop immediately.

“Yuqi, please.” You whined, her kiss-bitten lips barely a breath away.

“Please what, Y/N? You have to tell me what you want.” Yuqi’s dark eyes studied your form with satisfaction. This skin flushed, eyes wide and heavy breaths look on you was to die for.

“I need you, Yuqi. I need you inside me.”

She stopped for a second, before grinning like a Cheshire cat. She was insanely in love with you. Especially whenever you felt confident enough to talk dirty.

“Such a naughty girl.” She mumbled and leaned in to cover your neck with open mouthed kisses, she sucked the skin above your collar bones while making sure to leave dark marks. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

One of her impatient hands travelled south in order to tug at your shirt or more accurately, get rid of it. Yuqi hummed approvingly at the sight of your beautiful midriff. Her fingers traced your smooth skin, moving upwards until they reached your bra. She undid it with experts’ speed and closed her mouth around one of your hardened nipples.

Yuqi loved this intimate proximity that created between you, it’s always been far more than sex.

You mewled weakly, knowing how obsessed Yuqi often was about your breast. She used her hands to grip your butt once more and pressed you even closer against her. You cried out in pleasure, before throwing your arms around her neck. Subconsciously, you rolled your hips rolled into hers.

“Here, ride my fingers, baby.”

You heaved a sigh of relief when you felt Yuqi unzip your pants, her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear in a hurry so she was able to satisfy your burning with lust core.

“Damn. You’re so wet, angel. So good for me.” Yuqi gasped, truly shocked at how incredibly you felt around her fingers.

Your warm walls welcomed her eagerly, as your hips rocked. You began to moan uncontrollably when she let herself go deeper. Yuqi had to silence you with her kisses - she didn’t doubt that you were actually able to make all the neighbors know what you two were doing. There was just no point in letting something so embarrassing happen.

Your knuckles turned white when you gripped onto Yuqi’s shoulders desperately. You needed something to ground yourself with. The feeling of your lover’s fingers buried deep inside you made you want to see all the stars. You were chasing after your sweet release, eyes shut tightly at the pure bliss you were bathing in.

Eventually, you did open them only to glance down between your bodies. Fascinated, you watched Yuqi’s hand disappear in your pants repeatedly. You shuddered, it only drove you closer to the edge and when Yuqi hit your g-spot you almost lost it. She knew your body excellent by now. She easily recognized from the way you were clenching her fingers how close you were.

“Come for me, baby girl. I know you want to.” She husked into your ear, biting your earlobe.

And how could you disobey?

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arioloyal · 1 year ago

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Sepandarmazgan

Part 4

(King baldwin iv x reader)

Warning: none

A/n : This part of the story is narrated by a knight named Kristous. I have decided to give this story a philosophical and romantic aspect so that can't just be a boring lovestory . Merry Christmas to all my Christian friends. I hope your dreams and wishes come true this year♡

Like and reblogs are appreciated

Kristous pov:

Our jaws were still dropped from our mouths and our face were pale. We were all waiting for lord lusignan today when we suddenly saw lady y/n just enter the door. What were we left to do? We had heard enough terrible things about her, especially from Reynald de Chatillon, when we saw her appear before us like that, we unconsciously felt a little fear. But her behavior seemed very kind and friendly. After welcoming us one by one, she said that she came here to have a little talk with lord Guy de Lusignan.

I was afraid that something would happen. I said, "lord...lord Lusignan doesn't usually welcome uninvited guests, especially guests who find their way into his secret meetings. It's better to go now and talk to him personally later."

Lady y/n said, “God bless all of you knights of the Holy Land. Thank you for the warning, but sometimes it takes an incident to solve some problems.”

What?! She had read my mind? Honestly, I had heard before that y/n could read people's minds.

"Don't worry," she continued, " this conversation won't last long."

jerard was sitting next to me. He bent down and whispered in my ear: "Look at this rude woman! She has come to the secret hall! She's really the devil of Jerusalem."

I shook my head, but to be honest, I didn't saw anything like the devil in her. The image she made of herself in my mind was that of a pious, faithful, frank and bold woman. I kept my thoughts to myself.

A few minutes later, Guy entered the door. He seemed to be deep in thought, his eyebrows were close to each other. He hadn't taken a single step. he froze there and looked at the uninvited guest.

"What is this infidel woman doing here? Why did you let her disturb our secret meeting?"

We knights looked at each other but before we could answer, y/n interrupted him and said that she had been walking around the palace when she happened to come across here and wanted to see a man who hate her the most in the entire of Jerusalem.

Some of the knights coughed nervously and embarrassedly. I looked at jerard, he was also nervous and worried. There was such anxiety in the air that you could even touch it with your hand.

Lord Lusignan said, "I don't care why you came here. I have more important things to do than talk to you. You have no right to be here at all. Hurry up and get out."

Lady y/n said, "I see you don't want to talk in front of me. But behind my back you gossip like a nightingale, no one can stop you. You have a habit of gossiping behind me and the king and making dirty accusations. Now Since we have occupied your mind so much, you probably have some questions. go ahead! I'm listening!"

:"I have nothing to do with you. Whatever I need to know, I know. all these knights as well."

At that moment, lady y/n turned to us and raised her voice, "If someone says, 'I know everything I need to know,' they should not be known as your lord, but as a fool." . Only the ignorant think they know everything."

Guy's face was red with anger. Until today, no one had been seen with such boldness in the palace.

:"In that case, come and ask these knights: Which one is more important for Jerusalem? The holy soldiers and defenders of Jerusalem or a wandering madman who does nothing but pry and ask questions and whose mind is always distracted?"

All the people present there took the guy's side, but I felt that most of them are not honest and just want to gain his trust.

Lady y/n asked, :"You sit everywhere and with everyone and talk behind my back. You say I was sent by the devil. Okay, now that's the case, please tell me what a devil is?”

Lord Lusignan, who now had a good opportunity to express himself, said: "devil is the worst enemy to man and humanity, and always walks among us in disguise. Sometimes in the form of a poor and seemingly innocent human, and sometimes in the form of a beautiful woman. comes to encourage us to get out of the right path. The devil appears in different forms that we don't expect it at all. For example, may appear in the form of a traveling and ordinary girl. But the faithful soldiers of Christ, won't listen to such a evil. "They never allow you to enter their privacy." Then he examined her from head to toe.

Lady y/n smiled as if she was expecting this insult and said,: "I know what you mean. But it was so easy! It's good for us to always look for the devil in others, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

:"Well, if the devil is as cunning and powerful as you say and is always waiting for an opportunity to be by our side, what is the need for us, the humans, to blame ourselves for the mistakes that we have done with our own wish? we usually say that all sins is because of the devil and all good is from the god, so what exactly we're doing here as a human? In this way, there is no reason to ask ourselves questions and make up for our mistakes. We blame everything either on Satan or on God. Let's go. See ? how easy it is?"

:"You either have a lot of courage and intelligence or you're very stupid to talk about such things to such people." Guy said to y/n

But she continued talking as if she didn't hear his voice and started walking in the hall between us.

: "a human is such a complex being that he can prepare both heaven and hell for himself. is the highest creation of God. However, can become higher than high or lower than low. If we understood the meaning of this deeply, Then we wouldn't look for the devil outside, but inside our own soul. The only thing we need is to check ourselves, not to look for mistakes in others."

jerard said from the corner with a mocking tone: "You, fire worshiper, you better check yourself first. I hope one day you will answer for the lies you're saying."

:"So let me tell you a story," she said.

... Four merchants were praying in an empty church. At the same time, the head of the merchants joins them. The first merchant abandons his prayer and immediately asks: "Then what will happen to these loads of silk that we were supposed to take with us?"

The second merchant abandons his prayer and says to his friend: You fool! Don't you know that you should not talk to anyone during prayer? Now all your prayers will be null and void."

The third merchant also made such statements.

The fourth merchant couldn't bear it anymore. he whispered: Look at these fools! All three of them gave up their prayers. thanks to the god, i didn't allow myself to be deceived and stop my worship with idle words like them."

After finishing this story, y/n turned to the knights and asked, "Well, what do you think? Which one of these four merchants do you think had their prayers accepted by the god?"

There was a wave in the hall, some of the templars thought, some started to discuss the answer. Finally, one of them shouted from the bottom of the hall: "The prayers of the second, third and fourth merchants are not accepted. Only the first merchant is innocent because he only asked to consult his boss."

Another one said: "Yes, but he shouldn't have left his prayer half-done. In my opinion, except for the fourth one, the rest of the merchants were wrong. The fourth merchant was only talking to himself."

I looked away from them. I wasn't sure that any of these two answers were correct. But I preferred not to say anything. If I say my opinion, probably no one would like it. Suddenly, y/n stood up, pointed at me and asked.

Well, what do you think?!"

I said: "If these merchants have a fault, it is that they stopped worship and spoke. Their main mistake was that instead of focusing on God and the truth of the prayer they recited, they started criticizing each other." Their thoughts are somewhere else and all their senses are distracted. Now if we judge them, we will also commit the same sin."

One of those bigoted knights interrupted me: "What do you want to say?"

I answered: "I say that all four merchants are wrong for the same reason. But on the other hand, it's not right to judge them because I don't know which one of them was accepted by the Lord. As a person, I only do my work and deal with my own mistakes. I have nothing to do with others but protect them."

Lady y/n gave me such an admiring look that I felt like I was being praised by the whole world. she asked my name. "Kristous, my lady," I said.

At that time y/n turned to the rest of the templars and knights and said:" your friend is a true knight, maybe he is not aware of this fact yet. But his soul is very similar to the pious men. I think that Now you understand the difference between a fanatic and a true knight. You must be very careful about your thoughts. Because the disease caused by thoughts is much worse than physical disease, and bigotry is a disease worse than leprosy. will take all your soul and faith away . Be more careful in choosing your friends."

lord Guy, who couldn't take it anymore, angrily left the hall and slammed the door behind him. if she wasn't the king's special guest, im sure she would be behaded right there.

A few people laughed a little after he left, but y/n said with obvious sadness in her voice, :"I've met hundreds of knights and members of this palace so far, some of them were very honest and sincere people like the king. But some, even a little bit They did not understood the real Christianity properly and only used it for their own benefit. It is true that I am not a Christian, but this much I understood that it is possible to live with someone despite all the differences without causing harm. The true love of God is never combined with ambition for power . And I wouldn't never exchange it to wealth."

she raised her head and returned to her previous determination: "That's enough for today. What you witnessed today is the separation of mind and heart. This duality exists in all religions. Make your choices!"

she was silent for a while, as if she was waiting for us to understand her words.

:"In any case, neither your lord Lusignan knows more than he should know, nor do I. Maybe he is blind, and I am also blind. The important thing is that the blindness of a person doesn't harm the sun. The discussion of people with different religions is also has no effect on God. Now you understand why your king always prefers peace."

she put her hand on her chest and said goodbye to all of us and left us all alone in that hall with thousands of questions.

I raised my head for a moment and was horrified by what I saw. I saw the king who witnessed all the events from behind the columns of the upper floor. I wanted to inform everyone but he gave me a sign that I should remain silent. Today was supposed to be a day full of mystery. didn't end well...

To be continued...

#koh #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #the leper king #imagine #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv #fandom #quotes #story #baldwin iv of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #fanfic #pov #crusader

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klbwriting · 11 months ago

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Broken Prism

Chapter 13

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Toddxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence, villain death, poison

Summary: Jason hears about something that puts YN in danger and springs into action

Notes: I found a flower that is poisonous and is used in blow darts for the flower in this chapter. I am by no means a botanist or a scientist so please forgive my ignorance if my information is way off. Also, realized I've been spelling Iceberg wrong for years because I, someone who writes a lot, cannot spell nor do I care about spellcheck apparently. I am a liar and a fraud. Very sorry. Thank you!

Jason sat in one of his safehouses in the Bowery cleaning his guns, again. He couldn't stop his mind running and the only things he could think to do was make sure all his weapons were pristine to keep his thoughts at least distracted by the task of not accidentally shooting himself. He didn't know what to do. It was the night Bruce said YN would be at the Iceberg Lounge getting information about Penguin. She was probably there right now. Should he go? He wanted to go, but he wasn't sure if it was safe. What if she got hurt because he showed up? What if she didn't want to see him? So many thoughts all against the soundtrack of a clown faced madman. He was just finishing his one of his sniper rifles when he got a call from his second in the Narrows. Mac was a reformed drug dealer who now just dealt exclusively in dirty money and he knew almost as much about Gotham as Jason did. He was great when the Red Hood needed to know underground information about some of the normally quieter villains. While he was watching Penguin's dealings at the moment, Mac was watching everyone else. He answered, making sure his voice modulating phone app was working.

"Ya?" he said. He heard someone laughing in the background and had to shake himself to drown out the constant Joker laugh that played in his mind. He had to concentrate.

"Hood, got some interesting information for you," Mac said, then fell silent, waiting to hear what he would get out of it. Jason almost told him he didn't care that night, but something made him curious. He didn't know why but he felt whatever this info was it was going to be life or death.

"You get a bonus for it my friend, 5k," he said. He heard a satisfied grunt from the other end of the phone and then the background was a little quieter as Mac went somewhere private.

"I heard that Poison Ivy is pissed at Penguin for trying to buy up that big ass park in New Gotham," he said. Jason remembered seeing about Penguin trying to make a deal with Bruce Wayne to buy the park that Bruce paid for and carefully curated as a rare flower sanctuary. You could go to any of a dozen greenhouses and see rare flowers from all over the world. It didn't surprise Jason that Ivy would want to keep that. "She's heading over to the Lounge right now, right when it's busiest, she wants to make an example of Penguin and anyone who supports him." Jason stilled, color draining from his face. "Hood?" Jason coughed, mind scrambling.

"Thanks Mac, you'll get that 5k tomorrow," he said before hanging up. He needed to get across town fast. If YN was still in the Lounge...if she...he stopped his mind from racing and looked at his gear. He grabbed his helmet, shoulder holster, and his jacket. The rest would take too long to get on, and he ran out of the safehouse, getting on his bike and breaking every speeding law in the city to get to the Lounge before it was too late.

You weren't sure why you stayed at the Iceberg Lounge after you had talked to your contact. You had what you needed. They had let you into a server room that doubled as an illegal organ theft cooler, taken your pictures and made copies of the digital ledgers that were kept there. If you were smart you would leave before someone either stole your purse or realized you weren't exactly dressed for clubbing and got suspicious. You had planned to sneak out amongst the crowd of dancers at the club, but something about the rough music, it seemed edged in anger that night, kept you on the floor. You danced by yourself, letting months of annoyance, worry, and stress out in a way you hadn't been able to. Sure you threw yourself into work once you realized that Jason wasn't coming back. You left his book on your nightstand, note still attached, but other than that you tried to push him from your mind, stop feeling his hand in yours or seeing that smile or hearing his laugh. You started just working. You got Two-Face caught, and even had given some interesting info on Joker that had him on the run again, you were doing so much that Jim, your friends, even Bruce, were starting to worry you were careening towards a cliff face and if you didn't stop you would fall over the edge. Maybe you would, but at this point you just wanted to feel like you were in control. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought if you could get all the villains that Jason wanted off the streets, get him his territory, get rid of Joker, maybe he would come back. But right now the music was loud, your body was barely functional, and your mind was starting to feel like something good was coming, so you danced near the edge of the floor, ignoring anyone who came up to dance with you, sometimes sending them away with a glare. You wanted to be alone. That was a lie, you wanted to be with Jason, but you couldn't have that. It didn't help that Red Hood had become a costume just like Batman, people walked around the clubs and streets wearing helmets from costume shops, some of them getting into fights with the idiots donning the cowl. It was like a constant reminder.

A guy approached you with a drink, offering it to you. He said he had something cool for you to see. You rolled your eyes but when you saw the cheap looking way too red helmet you threw the drink in his face. He called you a cunt and walked off and you took a shaky breath. It was time to go. You turned and crashed headlong into the person behind you. You grunted, almost falling, but were caught by a familiar arm around your waist. Your eyes shot up and looked at the very real helmet of Red Hood. You noticed he lacked the body armor, instead just in his undershirt and his leather jacket. You glared and shoved him back.

"Fine, you can be pissed but you have to go now, I have to get you out of here," he said. You barely could understand him above the music but you heard and felt the urgency in him. He grabbed your hand and you allowed him to drag you to an emergency exit door. Just as you got to it the music cut out and the wall opposite crashed in and vines started growing through the opening. "Go!" Jason said, pushing you out the door and closing it behind him. You banged on it, trying to get it opened from it locked from the outside. You screamed for him. He didn't have his armor, what was he doing there without it? You ran to the front entrance where people were desperately trying to get out. The blacked out windows broke as people tried to escape that way. Anyway to get in was blocked by terrified party goers trying to get out. You could hear screaming and gunshots. Finally people started to slow and you found a broken window that no one was currently coming out of. You grabbed a discarded jacket in the alley and put it over the shards, climbing inside, staying to the outside of the room, hiding behind upended tables.

Jason was still facing off against Ivy, guns aimed for her as she towered above him, her precious plants holding her aloft. She seemed to be entertained by him. Several of Penguins men were dead around her and Penguin himself was probably locked away in his office or had already ran to avoid meeting the woman face to face.

"Red Hood, you impress me, why don't we become allies? You get your territory but make sure they leave my precious parks alone," she was saying. Her voice sounded sweet and for a moment you were almost drawn in by it. She must be pumping some kind of pheromone into the room. You saw Jason take a couple steps forward and you almost cried out, but didn't want to distract him. What was he doing?

"That doesn't sound like a half bad idea," he said, lowering his guns. Ivy lowered herself to the ground, walking over to him. He didn't raise his weapons, they hung loose, almost like he was in a trance. You took a breath, scared that maybe he was infected by whatever toxin she was pushing to him. You moved trying to get a better look and fell, making plenty of noise. Ivy looked over and snarled, a vine grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you out onto the floor. You grabbed your switchblade and cut the vine, making her scream. Jason just stood there, but you noticed the hold on his gun tighten again. Shit, he had been luring her in and you had ruined it, stupid. A large white flower appeared in front of you.

"Stay put until I'm finished with my new friend here and then I'll deal with you. I hope you like a slow death," Ivy snarled before turning back to Jason, smiling again. "Now, how about that deal?" She came even closer. "We can seal it with a kiss?" He stood still until she was within arm's reach, then his gun pointed to her head.

"How about no?" he said and fired point blank into her head. You dropped down as the flower fired a poison dart before dropping itself. The vines around you died as their matriarch dropped, eyes staring lifeless. You got up from the ground and turned to see Jason on the ground, the flower dart sticking out of Jason's arm. He grunted, falling to his knees.

"Red Hood!" you yelled, running over, surprised you had kept yourself from calling his actual name. He was on his knees, breathing deep. He pulled the dart out and looked around. He grabbed a stack of napkins and wrapped the dart in them.

"I need...Alfred..." he got out, voice rasping even through the modulator. "Ivy...poison..." You nodded.

"I have a car out back," you said, sliding his arm around your shoulder and standing, staggering a little. Even without his armor he was solid muscle and that wasn't light. "You need to help me or I'm going to fall." He took a haggard breath and stood on his own, still leaning to you. "How much time do we have?"

"Twenty minutes maybe," he said. He let out an agonized cry. You reached over and grabbed his gun from him, keeping it ready in case anybody gave you trouble as you walked into the alley. You saw the line of parked cars belonging to the currently dead Penguin henchmen and picked the closest one, putting Jason in the back. You climbed in and got to hot wiring it. "Thought you said you had a car?"

"I do, I have any car I want," you said. "Now shut up and rest." Your voice was severe because even in this horrible situation you were still mad at him. He disappears for six months, comes back to get you safely away from an attack by Poison Ivy and then goes and gets poisoned? How dare he put you through this roller coaster of emotions. You got the car going and then, safety be damned, sped to Wayne manor. You crashed right through the gate and stopped by the door. Alfred was out the door, gun in his hand, dropping it only when he saw it was you.

"Miss YN, what..." he started until you threw open the back door and dragged the now unconscious Jason from the back. Alfred jumped into action, grabbing him with you and pulling him into the front hall. He locked the door and turned to you.

"What happened?" he asked as you removed Jason's helmet. He looked terrible, pale, lips barely having any pink to them. You told Alfred about the attack, about the poison. "What did the flower look like?" You were glad it had been aimed at you first, in your fear you had memorized its features.

"It was white, with red like tendrils and yellow inside," you said, closing your eyes to remember better. You knew that wasn't how it worked but right now you weren't thinking straight seeing Jason like this. You needed to stop seeing him before you lost control entirely. Alfred nodded.

"Her modified Medusa Flower, find the point of contact" he mumbled, getting up and running towards the kitchen where he kept the antidotes to several of Ivy's poisons. Luckily this was a common poison she used, having modified the flower to actually shoot the poison and the effects to be quick. He got the syringe ready, going to back and knelt down. You had found the puncture and torn off his sleeve so Alfred could get to it, displaying the frightening spread of the black poison through his veins. He injected the antidote directly into the wound. You wondered how long it would take to help him. Alfred frowned when he didn't open his eyes. "Sit him up." You did as asked, sitting him up. Alfred pulled his shirt up and over his head and you set him down, seeing poison. It was still moving, but much slower. "Do you have the dart?"

"Yes," you went through his pockets, careful not to sting yourself. You handed Alfred the dart and he frowned.

"She has continued modifying her poisons," he grumbled. "What I gave him has slowed the poison, let me get into the lab with Master Tim, we will be able to fix this. You nodded. Alfred touched a pin on his lapel and not even five minutes passed before Bruce, Dick, and Tim were all there in the hallway, asking a million questions. Bruce picked up Jason and you followed him upstairs to his old bedroom as Alfred and Tim went down to the cave. Dick followed, arm going around you as you finally started to cry.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jasontodd #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #redhood #red hood #red hood x y/n #brokenprism

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mariamariquinha · 1 year ago

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Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Thirteen (Part 2)

Summary: The void.

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Bad words, violence, ~ daddy issues ~, smut, unprotected p in v sex, slight mentions of political conditions from the period, trauma, nightmares, people drinking alcohol, feelings and angst 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: I will admit that I am VERY lazy about editing long chapters, so I will always point out that there may be some spelling mistakes. Trust me, sometimes it’s tiring to think in Portuguese and write in English.

This had a very firm direction even before writing, so after a long time, I announce that this is our penultimate chapter. I'm very tired, as you already know, and multi-chapter stories take longer and require more energy, which I've been lacking in recent months.

Either way, it's been an amazing journey! I will be very sad to close, but happy to know that I did something that means something to me. See you in the last chapter!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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Hell, his cigarettes were always stronger. A combination of tough tobacco and intense nicotine, more natural but probably more dangerous. The box was nearly full, you noticed as you fished one out. Either he had recently bought it or he was being more resilient with his addiction - either of those things seemed unlikely. Feeling it now, as you inhaled the nicotine and hid a cough of surprise at the intense taste, you almost had the impression that being addicted to it seemed a lot harder than it looked.

You had sat on the back steps, but you made a point of leaving the door closed as it was before. The night was muggy, a little cruel if you were wearing more than a cotton t-shirt; it gave you an overwhelming feeling, as if you were sensing everything around you. You noticed that the garden had a particularly feminine feel to it — something that felt like Juliana, perhaps a very vivid reflection of what her presence in the house was like. Flowers, water fonts, the stone that certainly had a cool name that was used on the steps you were sitting on. You could feel comfort in the soles of your feet if you moved a little.

The weeds and chips in the beds looked more like Carrillo. You wouldn’t think he cared so much about making the place feel like a house, let alone whether to make the garden look like a garden.

“Why are you here?”

You didn’t have a proper answer. Given his manners, you could smoke in the room, could think about whatever kept you up that night by his window or in the comfort of his bed. Instead, you got there, far away, fingers brushing your jaw unconsciously and smoking a cigarette that wasn’t yours. Without something to say, you shrugged, not eyeing him but knowing he could find ways to get the answer somehow.

It was a pleasant surprise to see him walk down those steps, casually pull up a wooden chair that was there and sit down to face you. That made you smile discreetly.

“It’s awful, just so you know,” You gestured with the cigarette in your hand, contradicting yourself the next second while you took another hit.

“It’s not the best option for those who want to quit.”

“I just picked the wrong time for this. Or the wrong career.”

Carrillo didn't respond, but you could see him make that information something to mull over. You held his analytical gaze for a while; when it got intense enough, you took another drag and turned your face to the side.

“I didn't get them all,” The comment came after a long moment of silence, when you noticed that he didn’t make any effort to have one for him.

“Mm-hm,” He answered easily. “I figured you'd stop at the first one.”

“Yeah, well, this shit it’s fucked. You should review your preferences.”

“On cigarettes?”

“That too.”

This time he reacted, but in such an unusual way that it didn't seem like him. Horacio was drowsy, slow, as if the outside world had taken a break for that moment. Rested, by the saying. And when he decided to lean forward, reaching out a hand to pull the cigarette clamped between your fingers, you let him, watching the way he just took the time to put it in his own mouth before subtly grabbing your previously occupied hand. The same one that was still sore from the impact of the fall, but not so bad that it made you flinch from the touch. With the orange cigarette light illuminating his face, Carrillo carefully detailed the wounds, his thumb trailing lightly over your knuckles.

“Who told you?” The question slipped out of your mouth smoothly, but you felt anxious asking it. When he just frowned at you, you clarified. “About my… fall.”

He took his time taking the cig away, then took more time blowing the smoke away before saying something.

“Peña.”

Of course.

You tilted your head while you entertained yourself with the hold he had on your hand. Raising your eyes after a good moment, you saw him watching you.

You looked at each other for a moment. His fingers twitched in the grasp he had on your skin and whatever breeze that would come to brush you two wouldn’t make a single scratch at that moment. He looked so soft, so… open, like a vision of whatever type of man he was, a person you’d been meeting piece by piece. The warm eyes, the peaceful sincerity and the calm touches. God, he was so beautiful.

“Te extraño en mi cama.” I miss you in my bed. There wasn’t a teasing tone with the way he talked, but you could feel his intentions dripping from his voice.

Instead of giving him a proper answer, you chose — again — to keep any thought to yourself. With a slow hand, you grabbed the cigarette again, inhaling a little and releasing the smoke into the air without taking your eyes off him.

“¿Entonces viniste a buscarme?” So you came to get me?

Eyeing him from above, you could see the small smirk playing on his lips at the comment. You reflected the reaction, taking another drag before returning the cigarette. On this one, he pulled the touch away from your hand and directed it to the bare skin of your leg. Again, you didn’t make the effort to move or say something. Carrillo leaned in carefully, placing a single kiss on the inside of your left knee, then another on the right one. His body was angled enough that you could admire the curve of his broad back, the way the muscles stretched the fabric of his shirt.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” What are you doing? You asked, a little breathless from the gentle kisses and touches, shivering like an untouched woman.

“Te quiero cerca de mi,” I want you close to me, He said against your skin, hand massaging your thighs. “¿Harías esto por mí?” Would you do this for me?

“Por supuesto, Horacio. No estaba huyendo.” Of course, Horacio. I wasn't running away.

“Yo sé que no. No irías muy lejos vestida así.” I know you weren’t. You wouldn't go far dressed like that. Carrillo straightened his stance, smiling playfully at you and letting a small ‘oof’ when you kicked him lightly on the leg.

You two got back to a comfortable silence, the tip of his fingers brushing your knees while you kept staring at the distance. The cigarette was still burning, making that strong smell of tobacco flow through the air calmly. It was peaceful, the way you sat there, silently, in each other's orbit. For a moment, you wanted to ask if he just lost sleep or if you had woken him up; maybe he wanted to ask something like that too. In the end, no one said anything, even though something should be done soon and you should move on from there.

“Quite dramatic, don’t you think?” You were the first one breaking the silence, still not eyeing him with a wave of embarrassment hitting you. “We’re almost there to get that motherfucker and I’m here whining because of my father.”

“You’re not whining.”

“You know what I mean.”

He knew and, from the inside, you also knew he agreed with your opinions. There was a lot going on, a war to win, people dying, but still your personal problems darkened your vision from the real problem. It made you understand why Carrillo was so averse to DEA or CIA - so many people looking at their own ass and not seeing the whole figure, the important part. Even then, you appreciated the effort, the way he just shook his head a little, took a drag, averted the topic.

You two contemplated the night in silence, puffing smoke and eventually brushing each other’s shins or legs or fingers. It was so easy to get used to the calm of that moment, to remember it as something eternal. You didn't want to think about the end of that because thinking about the end of that would, perhaps, be thinking about the end of what you had with Horacio there, at that moment. A mission that had to be accomplished, with the usual consequences. This was such a cruel melancholy, one that you only glimpsed as simple touches on your fingertips but that made your heart sink.

“Que pasa, mi amor?” What is it, my love? Carrillo asked, probably noticing the way you showed your sadness in your eyes, staring back at him.

“Nn-nn,” You shook your head. “I’m fine. Maybe I just wanna go to bed now.”

“We can do that.”

He didn't press, nor did he hesitate to put out his cigarette so the two of you could go back inside. When they did, Horacio locked the door but didn't let you go very far - he subtly held your hand, bringing you closer and kissing your bruised knuckles. Then, without taking his eyes off yours, he placed a sighing kiss on your forehead, in the middle of your eyebrows, on the bridge of your nose and, finally, on your lips.

“I don't think I ever told you how beautiful you are.”

“Horacio…”

“What? Don’t you believe me?”

“I’m already here, that’s all. You already have me, you don’t need to-” You knew exactly why you waved off his compliment, why you felt so unsure of how to react to it, and maybe he did too, because Carrillo wasn’t dumb. “Thank you. Sorry.”

You also didn’t know why your eyes welled with tears - either way, you suppressed the urge to cry, looking at him from under your lashes with shyness. With a discreet hand, you held his chest, then the side of his neck, tilting your head to the side and almost failing in keeping a neutral expression while observing his face. If you could, you would tell him that you were used to losing, that it wasn’t the first time your mind started to prepare you for another fall, another break. That Horacio, that this, wouldn’t be forever, that maybe you were just a storm in a life that could be calm.

Horacio deserved suitable days. Days where he could have kids, a wife to call his, sunday lunches with family and calm nights with a partner. You always doubted yourself so much, always put yourself in the harsh ways of life to just feel something, that suddenly you felt self conscious of the fact that you weren’t what he probably was looking for, that he wouldn’t change you or what happened or how messy the world was. You didn’t want it to end because it was good. Imprudent, maybe, and quite dangerous, but good. So good.

“What will become of us after this, Horacio? What do you expect of me?”

He blinked, frowning in a stern way.

“Is that what made you lose sleep?”

You nodded. The confirmation just made him sigh, shaking his head lightly and showing clear signs of frustration.

“He was never right about you. He doesn't… He doesn't deserve you, what he said doesn't belong to you,” Carrillo contained a harsh tone, jaw clenching. “I don’t expect anything, not from you, not from us, nothing but the assurance that you’re here now. That’s what I need.”

---------------------------------

It was different that time, you knew it was. Not like the first time, in the pure and mutual attraction, nor the second, in the decompression of the adversities that surrounded the two of you. It was different because, if Carrillo was crazy enough to ask you to marry him or propose an escape or make you stay there forever, you would say yes. Yes, Yes, Yes. Yes, take me away, yes, make me yours, yes, be the father of the children I never wanted to have but would have if you asked me. Yes, I would do anything for you.

But he didn't ask any of that. He hardly asked, in fact, because between ordering or teasing, as he always did with you, Horacio decided to give you things, fill you with dark truths in the way he kissed you and made love to you that night.

There was caution, care. He calmly undressed you, kissed you from heel to lip, caressed you through your physical wounds and those of your mind, holding you tight while he heard you moan and sigh. Sex for you was always a coincidence, an exaggerated consummation that was nothing more than pure biology. With him, that night, it was the end of a long and unnecessary waiting time that would always lead to the same result: the two of you together, skin to skin, without delay.

It was ridiculously cliché, looking into his eyes as you rode him slowly, as you enjoyed every moment with sweaty, panting faces, and knowing that the devotion of pleasure was the first and most genuine positive emotion you felt for each other. That there was no love at first sight, nor at second, nor at third, but a feeling that was based on the truth that, sometimes, the patches of difficult lives so full of ashes were enough for the right person. Ashes that became embers and fire again, with comfortable flames that warmed and did not burn. Not anymore, at least.

When it was all over, with both of you exhausted, tired and overwhelmed by the end, Horacio opened his first truly light smile, without intentions, just a happy one. He passed his hand over your forehead, looked at you without fear.

“Te amo.”

I love you.

---------------------------------

In the morning, despite having little sleep, you indulged more than you did at night in the shower. It was much less romantic, but equally intense, with skin-to-skin noises, loud moans, nail marks and very naughty looks. He took you from behind, one possessive hand on your neck and the other arm wrapped around your torso to balance his firm thrusts, while you grabbed his hips to keep him going.

One of your best mornings, indeed.

“I have a meeting before lunch. Then we have some alignments about the capture,” He said, all professional again, handing you a cup of coffee. You took it, smiling at the gesture while eyeing the correspondence from the day before that was stuck on your purse.

“The capture. Big word,” The teasing didn’t go unnoticed by him, but the term caused a small cloud of tension to hang in the air.

A letter from your mother. She said she loved you, asked for what the fuck was that magazines in your apartment and a date she had with the guy from the Blockbuster she mentioned two letters before. No details, thank God.

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

A call-up from Messina. Nothing important. That report she asked was probably on her desk by now.

“About this word.”

You stopped between an FBI report and another envelope. When you looked up, you saw him standing in front of you, leaning on the counter where you were sitting and sipping your own coffee. This made you consider a response, even if you already knew what you were going to say. With a sigh, you placed the envelopes back on the top of your bag and also took a sip of coffee, shrugging your shoulders.

“Last time he ran away.”

“Is that what you meant?”

“... No,” You shook your head lightly. “We know what will happen. Do you want me to say it?”

“You could try.”

But you didn’t. He knew, you knew, that was what mattered. Like ripping away a band-aid, or taking the life out of a queen bee - resolution, antidote, job done. You turned your face away from him, eyeing the letters splayed out there, and shook your head again.

“I don't want to put you into the operation. When the day comes, I mean.”

“I know,” A sip - a bitter one. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“My name will already be in the history books, Carrillo. The DEA agent who fell from the rooftops the most in Medellín,” Even if it meant to be a teasing, Horacio didn’t smile, which made you roll your eyes. “I did the job, we all did. Whoever pulls the trigger, I’m happy. Satisfied.”

He didn’t respond to that, nor did he bring up the subject again, and you knew he understood what your passive words meant. You could be hiding something, maybe, but you weren't sure what it was. Your father may have been incapable of keeping words that promised good things, but he had uncanny abilities to carry out his threats well. He wouldn't touch Carrillo, he needed him, the aggression and the wounded pride that still coursed through the guy's veins. It would be one, two of the group. It would be someone.

You left the house giving him a long kiss, one that was returned with a certain innocence - which was an odd word to associate with him, anyway. Either way, you were determined to make the future farewell, the inevitable one, a little less full of secrets. You would say what really happened. You would do that, yes, different from what an unloving father would do after destroying his own family.

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“¿Qué pasó, hijo? Pareces distraído.” What happened, son? You seem distracted.

Jorge blinked a few times, looking back at the dishes in his hands and the foam, which was more sliding around his fists than actually cleaning anything in the sink. When he realized that he was, in fact, wandering in thought, he cleared his throat and tried to scrub the plate harder. He had done it before, but repeated the process unconsciously.

“Sólo estoy cansado, mamá. Fue un día largo en el hospital.” I'm just tired, mom. It was a long day at the hospital.

He hadn't said it in the letter - he didn't feel the strength or courage to do so. He didn't know how his mother would react. Georgina was a truly strong, competent woman, but Jorge's need to take a peek into the past was always something she ignored or just pretended didn't exist. If she imagined anything from her son's erratic behavior, the way he had become more agitated since the DEA had gotten its hands on the hunt for Escobar, she didn't comment. Another quality of hers, perhaps coming from experience, was knowing when to be quiet.

“No sé si voy a venir a cenar esta noche,” I don't know if I'm going to come to dinner tonight, Jorge said in a low, almost embarrassed tone, because he knew how much she didn’t like the idea. When he felt her coming closer, touching his shoulder calmly, he thought it was over and then, right there, all the secrecy would be over.

“¿De guardia en el hospital?” On duty at the hospital?

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, still watching the dishes, afraid of what he would find if his eyes landed on Georgina. She hummed, patting his back, then turning away.

“Ten cuidado en el camino. Por lo que parece, se están yendo.” Be careful on the way. From the looks of it, they’re leaving.

His hands clenched tightly at the mention of 'them', as did his eyes. Jorge always hated his sentimental side because it constantly failed him when necessary - since he was little, he would cry because he was away from his mother for a long time (who didn't give up brothel work even after having him) or he would get angry when another patient died due to lack of medicine in the hospital or he would even feel incredibly guilty when he saw the money that always came with men who were not from the government. That last part, he actually learned to overcome. If he was really determined like his grandmother always prophesied, he would never send that letter. You didn't owe him anything, you might not even have known he existed or, worse, followed not only in your father's footsteps in your career but in life.

Jorge left his mother's house afraid of being rejected again because it had been three days. Three days and nothing.

He wouldn't have another chance.

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That was the thing about being an almost lone woman on the front line: there was a subconscious idea that male colleagues had your back. Well, in general it was the other way around, and you wouldn't have been able to visualize any kind of support from anyone when you arrived, but perhaps your work might have earned you some respect - enough for people to look at you when you spoke and give value to what came out of your mouth. Maybe, if you had a little more stomach, you'd even ask Judy Moncada if she also earned respect through suffocation. Probably yes. Javier frowned a lot when her name came up (which was rare to see), so you could say that this would be an interesting point of identification.

It was the same Peña who mentioned that day he bumped into your father. He didn't specify a time, a specific moment, so it wasn't possible to know if it was before or after the episode in the office, just that it happened. You noticed that he kept looking at you with some suspicion, searching for an opening that would remove his doubt, but when you just said 'mm' and continued looking at the papers, the subject was dropped. There, you realized that it would be much easier to be punctual with your answers if he asked about Carrillo, but you knew he would hate to know too many details about it.

And oh yes, the 'protection'. You were never alone in a room with your father. When he prostrated himself more aggressively, sometimes Carrillo intervened with a firmer voice or Javier or Steve placed themselves, albeit discreetly, in front of you to shield yourself from that reaction. You always noticed, but never commented on it.

“He said that?”

The decision to tell Javier about what happened came in handy for a few basic reasons: he could be on the line (your father would always prefer a good, obedient boy next door like Steve), he knew how to keep secrets, and more than anything, there was a quiet trust that Carrillo wouldn't know about it from him. The two knew each other a little better, they had more identification, so Peña would understand why that conversation was taking place on the discreet terrace of your building between puffs of cigarettes.

“I just want to let you know. You know, in case something happens in the next few days.”

Javi frowned, nodding along but contemplating the information. You observed his side profile for a moment before turning your eyes to the night sky.

“Do you think it would be you?” When he asked that, you noticed that the question didn’t come with eye contact. His eyes were on the concrete, right where he tapped the ashes of his cig.

“I can’t be sure…” You sighed. “We're already in the final stretch, I'm sure of it. It wouldn't make any difference to let us go now. Still…”

Nothing came from your mouth. Javi pressed with raised eyebrows.

“CIA has its methods,” That was all you said and it could mean a lot of dramatic stuff, but at best he would just take some relevant parts from reports or even put on some obstacles in the near future. He would, indeed - he could.

“And don't you think your relationship with Carrillo is hurting your career?”

You two shared a glance, a long one. Javier didn’t seem to regret what he said, nor reticent; it was a question he wanted to do, so he did. And you considered it calmly, rolling the cigarette between your fingers without taking your eyes off him.

“What do you think?”

“... No,” He said, shaking his head. “It's harmless. At least from here. You?”

“It would be a bigger problem if it were you,” The teasing made him scoff.

“You wouldn't risk falling in love with me, at least. I wasn't going to let you do it.”

“Oh no?”

“Nn-nn.”

“Thank God, then.”

“Yeah, you should really be grateful. I still don't understand how you managed to get into his pants.”

“It's not that hard.”

“Mm.”

“You jealous or somethin’?” You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re his type at all, but-”

“Shut up,” He groaned, almost not being able to hide his playful grin while kicking your leg lightly. It turned into shared laughs soon, so you knew it would be another thing to remember.

A small silence lingered there, serene and soft. When he spoke again, it came in a low tone, tranquilized.

“If it's me-”

“Mm?”

“They're going to assign me to Cali. Well, I hope so.”

“You want that?”

“I don’t know what I would do, ‘s all. This… You know what I did here. It's a consequence that I would like to at least remedy, at least to sleep better at night.”

You observed him without a word to say, noticing that the privilege of having a slight reliable source of comfort for certain feelings was mutual. Well, you wished you could’ve noticed that earlier - it would’ve made a difference.

“Maybe I’ll need some support up there.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you have plans after this?”

For a moment, for a slight small moment, you wanted to give him a definitive answer; that you would be on the field, that LA still has some hard work to do, that you wanted to stay. If you knew this, you would tell him for sure, because it was Javi and Javi was…

“Fuck, are you two that serious?”

You puffed more smoke in the air, one brow raised.

“I like him.”

Javier didn't respond, but there was a slightly bitter aura on his face, as if he had fallen into an unwanted situation. Well, it was. Just as it was undesirable to leave the US to hunt down a narco, or see innocent dead bodies every day, or start something like that with Carrillo at that point in things. Would there ever be an ideal time?

From the way Peña shared a glance with you, turning his eyes back to the street below you two, there was just one rational and coherent answer. Damn it all, you thought, because being irrational and incoherent seemed to work so fine with everything.

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You couldn't be very moved when Javier was sent away. You were furious, yes, because you could see in your father's eyes that day that it had been your defeat. No, it was a fact, you couldn't react in front of so many people, not even when you hugged him hidden in the parking lot.

“I’m sorry, Javi. I’m sorry.” You said, gripping the fabric of his jacket and keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s not your fault,” He said as calmly and coldly as he could, hands splayed on your back. “I caused this to myself.”

That sentence haunted you for a while, at least long enough. When Carrillo came to see you later, when you lay in bed together, no one mentioned what happened, even though it was a fact that no one there slept well (again).

“Pronto,” He said. “Pronto atraparemos a ese hijo de puta.” Soon. We'll soon catch this son of a bitch.

And you didn't know if Carrillo was talking about Escobar, your father or whatever the ghost was that surrounded it all.

---------------------------------

A breath you didn't know you were holding left your throat when you heard Trujillo come back on the radio saying that Escobar was dead. Your two hands were gripping the supports of the leather chair, your nails digging into the upholstery, your shoulders raised to your ears; you were alone in the room, locked and static. In the background, you could hear Steve, hear Carrillo and the men. There was a dead body, a definitive body, and it 'almost' made you cry.

You noticed a presence soon after and, when you looked up from the equipment, you saw your father. He had his arms crossed, his body leaning against the doorframe. You exchanged a withering look, full of many meaningless things.

“We-”

“No.”

For the first time, he didn’t answer, didn’t press. You blinked a few times, got even more closer to the desk and turned your eyes back to the radio.

“There will be no confirmation of CIA involvement.”

“Is that the most you can get?”

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded, expression unreadable, face never leaving the equipment.

“Apologizing is apologizing. I never painted you as a guy with a lot of metaphors and I don't think you would have the mental capacity to do that now.”

He didn’t say anything again. Not a word. When you looked at the door after a few minutes, he was gone - nothing but the empty corridor in your eyesight.

When it was all over, all done (when it finally looked like the end of the line), you didn’t feel all the emotions and joy and relief you always thought you would. There was a restraint, from the way people celebrated from the way you held yourself against the decision to run to Carrillo as soon as they all came back. You looked at the smiles and laughs from afar, observed the proud way Horacio was acting from finally (finally) making it to the final. To kill, to take that bug hurting his ego, his country and his integrity for so long. It all mattered to him and for that you could celebrate.

For some reason, even so, whatever weight you still carried on your shoulders, you flexed your hands so as not to touch Carrillo and carried his body slowly even though your heart screamed for you to run, to jump into his arms and give a relieved sigh, being able to say it was over. You walked closer, patted his bicep, gave one of the most genuine smiles you had, mouthed ‘we did it’ - his eyes were full of a deserved relief, like a good tiredness. Yeah, you wished you could keep that moment in a box, open it when necessary, keep it to memory. He was, really, a beautiful man.

And if you got away from the commotion and saw your father from afar, watching the scene like a hawk, making you lose your smile, it had nothing to do with the sudden sour mood that surrounded your head even during such a big event.

---------------------------------

“Peña called.”

“Mm?”

Carrillo hummed, the sound reverberating on his chest where you were laying on. The midnight breeze was cooler, mixed with your naked bodies fresh from the shower and the thin layer of the sheets, but you two weren’t shivering.

You brushed your palm on his pecks, nuzzling closer to his neck.

“Said he hoped we celebrated a lot.”

“We did, right?” The teasing on your tone made him chuckle, head turning to the side to peck your forehead.

“I think he should be a part of it somehow,” It didn’t sound like a confession, but more like a statement. Yes, he should, but he wasn’t. An empty space was there, one that nobody would be able to fix.

“... Yeah,” You said slowly, eyeing the window.

“Is that why you looked so lost earlier today?” He asked.

It was true that you didn't want to ruin the moment with what was going on in your head, much less bring another type of bureaucracy to the ones he would face with Escobar's death, but you always thought you could be one step ahead of Carrillo when it came to hiding your true emotions. He had an almost religious ability to read people.

“No,” You shook your head. “But I would rather not talk about it.”

And he didn’t. Horacio went all quiet and kept tracing patterns on your shoulder and arm, all the while giving long and steady breaths, as if entering in a state of relaxation that you’d never seen before. Another thing to keep close to your heart, the way you could feel the slump of his shoulders, his soft heartbeat, the delicate touch of the tip of his fingers - things that he didn’t allow himself to be, a version of himself that flowed in the air, an almost domestic man.

Domestic, yes, so you adjusted your body to be even more closer, touching his skin and kissing what you could reach, what could still be surrounding you. It scared you a little, the fact that if he decided to be done like before, to create some distance between you two, you would be almost sick, sad, unsure of what to do with your hands and mind. Well, the offer would be up. You could still be closer for a little more, work with Peña if he ever got the chance to work on the Cali, to be some hours away from this thing you started to truly appreciate with Carrillo.

But again, hell, again, you wondered if that would always be like this. Could you two only be together in a context of war, of conflict? Wasn't there a version of that closeness that could be solidified in the silence and peace of a stable relationship? How unfair would that be, stopping the world for a moment and being able to sleep with someone you love without a gun under your pillow or the uncertainty of even being alive at the end of the day?

You felt selfish. Horacio could’ve died at the hands of the narcos, he always had an almost obsessive ambition to have that man in his hands, defeated and destroyed. It was enough that he was there, with you, and not in some tomb with honorable mentions made for Juliana, and not for you, because you were nothing more than two colleagues to people. You even felt self conscious. There would be less uncertainty if Juliana was there instead of you because she stopped her life so that Horacio could climb his own, achieve things, be the provider.

You remembered the night right after he was shot.

“I came to see you the day you got shot,” It slipped out of your mouth, breaking the silence in a sharp way even if your voice was small.

“You did?” He asked, confused by the sudden change of subject but willing to engage. “Why didn't I know this before?”

“... I saw Juliana in your house.”

Another silence followed your comment, this time more rigid. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, focusing your eyes on the skin of his belly, but that comfort lasted so little when he squirmed, almost forcing you to move away enough to look at his face. With a gulp, you did, body supported by one of your elbows to see his concerned face.

“It bothered you,” Horacio said.

“No, it’s just… You two were married, Horacio, for fucks sake… And it was obvious that she would come by to see how you’re doing. I didn’t want to interrupt. Not to mention that we weren’t as we are now.”

He stared at you, still frowning. After a while, when he noticed that you weren't going to say anything else, he relaxed his face a little, looking at the window and collecting his own thoughts.

“I tried to rekindle our relationship. Deep down, I thought I needed stability in life, something that made sense and that I didn't need to worry about, so the divorce was a frustration,” A sigh. “But that was before Escobar, before all that. I realized it would be better this way when we went to Madrid. She returned to be with her family, but we signed the divorce with the certainty that it was the right thing to do.”

You listened to his words with attention.

“When I got shot, I didn't think about anything. There was no film of my life or missed chances and opportunities. If I died right then, my only regret would be that I didn't finish my work,” He turned to you then, measuring your face with care. “When Juliana showed up, the only thing she told me was that I shouldn't be miserable enough to only have this mission in my head. That I should progress, live. No one would wait for me forever at the finish line and it would be a horrible feeling to swim for so long only to die alone on the beach.”

That was like a punch in the stomach, a force of words of things that only squeezed your heart. The fear and insecurity of being alone, of all that ending, you returning to LA and having all these feelings, added to the guilt of not valuing what your mother, for example, offered. This loneliness at the end of the day, of modified dreams and a brutal reality, this was something you thought about with yourself and didn't imagine that someone else would feel it too.

“That's when I thought of you.”

You gulped, mouth twisting to prevent a smile.

“You and your perfume. It was always a femininity that I repudiated, particularly because it broke with my focus, took me off the axis, off my plan. After that I realized that getting rid of Escobar was an incredible feeling and going back to that same perfume was just as good.”

No one spoke of goodbyes, of a goodbye that would be seen occasionally and almost instantly. You did it, you accomplished your mission. And if what was left, even if only for a short time, was that sensitive moment of implied declarations and a true sense of love, then so be it.

This ending wasn't that bad.

---------------------------------

“You’re really trying to make this a competition, huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing tone, turning your head for a peck on the lips before going back to the search on your bag. It was still early in the morning, so after a good fight around your kitchen to do a cup of coffee before he woke up, you decided to smoke some - just to notice that you couldn’t find your pack of cigarettes.

Carrillo circled his arms around your waist from behind, making you tilt your head to give room for him to place small and deliberate kisses on your neck. When he started to lower his hand, brushing the inside of your left thigh, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Noticing that you still weren't giving him your undivided attention, Horacio grunted and suddenly grabbed your purse, throwing it haphazardly on the sofa and suppressing your surprised gasp by turning you towards him and kissing your mouth.

“What’s going on?” You asked, unsure if you should laugh, push him away lightly or just give in on his affections.

“Nn-nn,” He mumbled, burying his face on your neck again.

“Nn-nn?”

“Just five more minutes.”

And he wasn't agitated, nor witty enough to make that moment a heap of giggles or tickles or… Anyway. He remained quiet, breathing deeply, placing both palms on your back and pressing you against his body. You frowned at the silence, at the request, until you felt his heart racing in his chest, his skin sweaty. Perhaps you had heard a commotion in the room, something that indicated the reason for that almost unexpected attitude. Horacio was rigid, almost restless in a… different way, burying his fingers on your back.

“Was it a nightmare?” You asked in a low tone.

“Bad dream.”

Well, you could say it was the same thing, but Carrillo probably had odd ways to cope with this shit, like not saying it was a nightmare would make it less scary. It was early - way too early for either of you to be up. It was as if the calm was fighting against the hustle and bustle of the outside world and what was happening. A reminder. You could tell he felt what you had felt the day before, at least because you knew there would be a small sacrifice at the end of it all.

You hugged him back, closed your eyes at the proximity. No one said anything, you particularly couldn’t. If you did, you would have to admit that, yeah, you knew how it was to have bad dreams - that yours involved saying a difficult goodbye, saying that you two would be over.

Yeah, this ending wasn't that bad, but it hurted a little; if felt like a fucking sacrifice.

---------------------------------

You both had busy days with bureaucracy. There was a lot of paperwork, press conferences, arrests and transfers. The Montoya family wrote to you, Peña wrote (although he was more succinct). When your mother wrote, asking (among other things) when you would return, you answered all her other questions except that one. Steve and Connie invited you to dinner as a farewell and they, yes, had a date to leave, to bury complicated days.

Your apartment was a mess because of it; clothes on the floor, work things scattered around. Some people in the office already had tickets booked to the US, so whenever you came back late at night or in the early hours of the day, there would be someone walking by with boxes, smiling in relief. You just stayed quiet. At dinner, at bureaucracies, at the times you managed to meet Carrillo.

Something was missing. You didn't feel truly fulfilled, you didn't find the strength to respond to your father's criticism or anything that came out of his mouth. It was an inertia of confusion, uncertainty and emptiness.

Horacio was in your apartment when it happened.

The two of you had sat on the couch, smoked, drank, had sex. The usual.

You remembered him getting up to get the bottle of bourbon that was left in the kitchen and you said you would accept another drink. Then you squirmed on the couch, rested your head to face the ceiling and rubbed your eyes, already partially drunk. When you turned your head to the side, hearing Carrillo mumble something about the bottle already running out, you saw a piece of paper pointing out from under the couch.

Any other time, really, you would leave it there. God, why did you take that shit in the first place? Why didn't Horacio arrive seconds earlier to distract you from opening that letter?

Jorge Pérez. With a high level of importance.

It was dated a few days earlier and had been written on pages in a small notebook, with spaced words and letters, all written in typical Colombian Spanish that was mixed in quick, light, hurried writing.

The last time you felt that feeling of having disassociated like that was when Juan Marcos almost killed you. Your head felt light, removed from reality, and it was as if your hands were tingling. You didn't laugh this time, you didn't have a hysterical laughing reaction from the shock, because maybe your body was so exhausted that you could only react with the first thing you felt like doing.

Each word was taken in with a lump in your throat and you blinked a few times as you felt your hands shaking, holding the papers and couldn't finish reading the rest. There were three parts, three pieces. You were suddenly impulsive about finishing the rest, reading, turning over the papers, gripping them tightly between your fingers.

“What?”

He asked with a confused expression, but you couldn’t quite catch his question right away. With a hand in front of your mouth, you swallowed a sob and held that letter with a firm grip, afraid of it all being a lie or an illusion or… A trick. A fucking universe trick for your mind and soul.

You raised your eyes to Carrillo, gulping again to prevent any big emotion from spreading all over the place.

“... It’s… It’s Jorge.”

“And who is it?”

The words almost didn’t leave your mouth, as if you were scared of the consequences of just… saying it.

“My brother.”

---------------------------------

I saw him on TV, but I saw you on a very trivial day. I don't remember the clothes you were wearing, nor could I tell you what time it was, or what day specifically. Maybe it was right after I saw him, but I still wouldn't know for sure. Things always pass me by with dates and names. I'm dyslexic. The truth is, well, you have a dyslexic brother who is a doctor. This is a great treat for those who enjoy stories of overcoming.

He never talked about me, did he? I'm sure he didn't do that. I think you're smart, maybe witty, because he never talked about you to me either. Perhaps we both did something that would be worthy of making him pull away. This is strangely comforting.

I know that the moment is not convenient and that it may seem like a lie, like a trap or something, so I understand if it takes a while, despite admitting that I am an anxious guy, I would even say impulsive. The truth is that not having an answer from you makes me resigned, but if you responded, if you looked for me, I would be hopeful.

Be sure to stop by a bar in Belén called Bodega del Toro. They have great fish filets and craft beers that are always cold.

Show up. Go to the bar if you can.

He won't show up, you can be sure. This stopped being a reality a long time ago. I hope it also brought out, in addition to your appearance, the generosity that I'm sure your mother has.

---------------------------------

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@616wilsons

@nessamc

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@padbrookcottage

#horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo #female reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #narcos #maurice compte

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villainsview · 1 month ago

Text

Part 5

FULL ART by @scarletfish8eta

Lavender learned a new trick that day; how to break out of handcuffs without having to bother with picking the lock or dislocating a thumb or two. Apparently you could easily release the mechanism by sticking a pin into it and lifting the part that stopped the cuffs from opening.

“I only use handcuffs because they’re fast, but they’re by far not as secure as you might think,” Fetch said, handing the set back to Lavender.

“I knew that,” she said, “I had to hand you the pin, remember? You would’ve been trapped otherwise.”

“I would’ve found something,” Fetch said, fixing his hair a bit, “so, next hideout. Where?”

“About a day’s drive,” Lavender said, “if we switch halfway or a couple times we can either beat Delaney there or catch him there.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

“Hey!”

“It’s not an insult, answer the question,” Fetch said, lighting a cigarette.

“We’ll need a new plan,” Lavender said, waving her hand a bit to keep the smoke away, “I actually have an idea too.”

“Go on,” Fetch said.

“Same as what we planned before,” Lavender said, “but we’ll just have to find another kid.”

“Erick is a means to an end for Keller,” Fetch said, “what in god’s name is going to convince him to let go of his best bargaining chip?”

“He has a list,” Lavender said, “a list of…young men he’s got his eye on, but is too much of a coward to act on it. It’s like a bucket list, but…gross. Thomas was on that list, but I beat him to it.”

“Why?” Fetch asked.

“I like the challenge,” Lavender said with a shrug, “if we work together we can grab another high risk target from the list. He won’t be able to resist.”

“You’re sure about this?” Fetch asked.

“He’s a man of disgusting but simple pleasures,” Lavender said, “most men are as far as I know.”

“You’re not wrong,” Fetch said, “so this list…?”

“I have a copy of it,” Lavender said, “but you’re gonna have to choose. Chase Delaney, or take a look at that list to trade Erick back.”

Fetch took a drag from his cigarette, thinking a second before speaking up.

“It might be the best shot we have,” he said, “Erick is a strong kid, he’ll hang in there as long as he needs to.”

“Then let’s make sure he won’t need to fight for long,” Lavender said, “come on, I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not, you can navigate,” Fetch said.

“Oh come on!”

“It’s my van Rhodes, be glad I’m letting you in at all after the shit you just pulled.”

“It was self defence!”

While the two argued, Delaney wasn’t having such a great time either. He’d finally found a secluded enough place to stop and check on his captive. For the past hours he’d been kicking against the lid of the trunk, making quite a lot of noise. He probably should’ve kept him more tightly restrained after all.

He got out of the car, looking around to make sure he really was alone at the rest stop at the side of an empty road, before walking over to the trunk and opening it. Erick’s knees were looking pretty bruised, it seemed he’d been slamming them against the lid to make all that noise.

It seemed the frog-tie hadn’t been sufficient. He was still blindfolded and ball-gagged, but he was struggling to breathe.

“Oh shit,” Delaney said under his breath, pulling the boy to sit up so he could undo the gag.

Erick coughed, gasping for air a bit.

“Ugh…moron!”

“I beg your pardon?!” Delaney said.

“You don’t— cough! You don’t gag your hostages with a choking hazard if you take your eyes off of them for hours! Is this your first time or something?”

“Oh come on, you’re fine,” Delaney said, “I’ll give you some water if you quiet down. Maybe I’ll let you ride in the backseat if you promise to be a good boy.”

He hooked a finger around the ring on the front of the leather collar, pulling him closer.

“Are you a good boy~?”

“You should’ve taken a breath mint before asking,” Erick replied.

Delaney sighed, tightening his grip on his collar before slapping him across the cheek. Erick flinched, he didn’t see that coming, literally.

“Let’s try again,” he said, “are you a good boy?”

“I know I’d be better at this than you at least,” Erick said.

“Okay, no water for you,” Delaney decided, picking the ball gag back up.

“Shame I wanted to spit it back at— Ack!”

He was cut off as Delaney changed his grip from the front of the collar to the back of the collar, choking him slightly.

“It’s really a shame I don’t get to break you in,” he said, forcing the ball back between his teeth before pushing him to lie down on his stomach, strapping the gag back in place behind his head.

He let go of the collar, allowing Erick to take in a little more air again while he picked up a spare length of chain, hogtying the boy so he couldn’t kick around anymore. He stroked his hair a little to settle him.

“Just let the drool out, you’ll suffocate less,” he advised, before stepping back and closing the trunk again.

Meanwhile Fetch and Lavender were well on their way to the address Lavender had given him to drive towards, it was the place she had been hiding out at for a while now.

It was a little loft apartment in another small town, accessible through the fire escape so she didn’t have to deal with any annoying neighbours. As they stepped inside, Fetch took a look around. It seemed she had been living out of a grand total of three boxes, one of them left unopened.

“New place?” he asked.

“I move around a lot,” Lavender said, opening the unopened box, “don’t touch anything!”

“I’m literally just standing here.”

“Attaboy.”

“Woman!”

“Ah, here it is,” Lavender said, pulling out a sheet of paper that seemed to be a photocopy of a written list with two columns.

She showed it to Fetch, who peered at it.

“A substantial amount of names,” he commented.

“Yeah, uh…you can ignore the left column,” Lavender said, “they’re too easy, he could get them himself. Also…the majority of them are dead.”

“Keller’s doing?” Fetch asked.

“Yup,” Lavender said, looking over the list at a couple familiar names.

Fetch noticed her zoning out a bit. Normally he would’ve let her be, but they had no time to waste.

“Daydreaming, Rhodes?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry, just thinking back,” Lavender said, “these boys were…basically my firsts.”

“Keller groomed you?” Fetch asked.

“He thought I was like him,” Lavender said, “he thinks a lot of people are like him, especially in this business.”

“What is in it for you?” Fetch asked, “it can’t be just the money.”

“Control,” Lavender said, “their life in my hands…”

“It’s a rush, isn’t it?” Fetch agreed, “anyway, since the left column is a no-go, which one do we pick from the right column that he won’t be able to resist? Or is it any of them?”

“Any of them really,” Lavender replied, looking over the list again, before pointing one out.

“That one,” she said, “I think I recall where he lives. We can figure out the rest of the details later, but it’s not far from here, and I remember Mateo whining about him a couple times before I screwed him over with Thomas.”

Fetch took the list, squinting a bit at the badly copied handwriting.

“Vir…Virgil? — What kind of shitty handwriting…”

“Virgil Vaughn,” Lavender translated, “I wonder what he’s like~”

“He’s just a means to an end,” Fetch reminded her, “speaking of…I don’t exactly feel comfortable trading a random kid for Erick and leaving him with Keller.”

“We can chip him and send the tracking link to the police,” Lavender said.

“You can’t just chip a human,” Fetch said.

“You know how easy we would have it if you’d have chipped Erick?” Lavender said.

“Rhodes. Focus.” Fetch said, feeling a headache coming up, “We grab this Virgil kid, use him to lure out Mateo and Erick, but we don’t actually let him make off with him. Okay?”

“We could ransom him after,” Lavender said.

“If he’s worth something,” Fetch shrugged.

“Probably,” Lavender said, “dad was a businessman or something, he’s a mommy’s boy. I think we can catch a decent price.”

“Okay, so that’s our plan,” Fetch said, “get the kid, kill Keller, get Erick back, ransom Virgil and then we never have to see each other again.”

“Deal,” Lavender said, “come on, I’ll drive.”

“Still no.”

“Come on!”

#my move #part 5 #writeblr #GID #GID writing #whumpblr #whump writing #oc whump #nsfwhump #scarletfish8eta #<-art credit #fetch #lavender #delaney #erick

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