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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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E studying late in the library, R as the late-night security guard

The only sound that came from the far corner of the second floor of the library was the steady, and occasionally emphatic, clacking of laptop keys as Enjolras hunched over his laptop. He only paused to grab a sip of coffee or swipe a notification from Twitter off of his phone screen, and as the time crept past midnight, he showed no sign of slowing down.

At least, he showed no sign until, without warning, the lights turned off.

Enjolras looked up, his face lit only by his laptop screen. “Hello?” he called, but no one answered. “Is anyone there?”

Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras glanced at first the time on his phone screen and then at the document he was working on, which was no closer to being done than it had been when he had started working on it some two hours prior, and he groaned. “God damnit,” he sighed, standing up and grabbing his phone and, after only a moment of hesitation, his coffee.

He made his way to the stairs, guided by the dim glow of the exit sign. Luckily, the lights were on in the stairwell, and Enjolras made his way to the ground floor. The lights were also off on the first floor, and Enjolras scowled before catching sight of a light from an office behind the circulation desk.

Enjolras stalked over and rapped his knuckles against the desk. “Hello?” he called, peering into the office. There was a man in there, lounging in his chair, and Enjolras raised his voice. “Excuse me?” The man did not look up and Enjolras scowled in irritation before practically bellowing, “Excuse me!”

The man startled upright, blinking owlishly through the window at Enjolras before standing and making his way to the office door. “Can I help you?” he asked mildly, which caused Enjolras’s blood pressure to skyrocket.

“Someone turned the lights off,” he said stiffly.

The man raised one dark eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “On the second floor,” he said. “Someone turned the lights off.”

Leaning casually against the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest – Enjolras tried not to stare at how his t-shirt stretched across his chest as he did – the man then had the audacity to smile at him. “I’m sure they did.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, tearing his eyes away from the tattoo on the man’s bicep. “Only, I’m trying to get some work done and that normally requires, y’know, light.”

The man nodded. “One might think.”

Enjolras counted to five in his head to try and stop from yelling. “Are you going to turn the lights back on?”

The man tugged at the collar of his university t-shirt as he considered it. “No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m not going to turn the lights back on.”

Enjolras stared at him, his mouth hanging open, before drawing himself up to glare at him. “And why the hell not?” he demanded.

The man shrugged. “Library closed at midnight.”

Enjolras blinked. “Since when?”

“Since we’re operating under summer break hours,” the man told him, sounding far too amused, and Enjolras scowled again.

“It’s May.”

The man smiled lazily at him. “Your grasp of the calendar year notwithstanding, the semester’s over, so the library is no longer open 24/7.”

Enjolras tried very hard not to seethe. “So you’re kicking me out.”

The man shrugged again. “I mean, I’m not gonna bodily remove you from the building or something, but yeah, I am gonna ask you nicely to leave, and if you refuse, I’ll probably have to call campus security.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “You’re not campus security?”

“I’m library security,” the man corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?” Enjolras asked sourly.

“Slightly less fascist,” the man said cheerfully, and Enjolras almost smiled. Keyword being almost. “Also I’m a student, and mostly I’m here to make sure folks swipe their IDs when they come in and to stop folks from walking out with books they haven’t checked out.”

Enjolras cocked his head. “And what’s the punishment for that?”

“Normally me escorting them to the checkout counter so that they can check them out.”

Enjolras huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not getting the vibe that you have a lot of authority here.”

The man chuckled. “That’s because I don’t.” He hesitated before adding, “My name’s Grantaire. And you are…?”

“Not sharing my name to prevent you from sharing it with campus security,” Enjolras replied coolly.

Grantaire grinned. “That’s a mouthful, your parents must’ve really hated you.”

Enjolras smiled slightly as well. “I mean, they did, but not for that reason.”

Grantaire took a step towards him. “If I promise not to report you, will you tell me your name?”

“How about you turn the lights on the second floor back on?” Enjolras countered.

“They’re on a timer, and I don’t have the means of overriding it, so unless you want me to stand up there holding my flashlight up for you to read by…”

Enjolras smirked. “Now that is a tempting thought.”

Grantaire gave him what Enjolras imagined he thought of as a pleading look. “C’mon, tell your name. I can go through the records of ID swipes, but I’d really rather not have to take that kind of time.”

“Why do you want to know my name so badly?” Enjolras asked.

“Because I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing a lot of you this summer,” Grantaire said archly. “Besides, I like to know the name of the cute guy I’ve been flirting with for the last fifteen minutes.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to scoff, or to tell him that this wasn’t flirting, or to do any number of things to rebuff the implication, but instead, what came out was, “Enjolras.”

Grantaire blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My name is Enjolras.”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeated, a slow smile crossing his face. “Wow, your parents really did hate you.”

“Almost as much as yours,” Enjolras shot back, “naming you Grantaire.”

Grantaire laughed. “Like you said, mine did too, but not because of the name.” He hesitated. “Why don’t you work down here?”

Enjolras blinked. “What?”

“I can’t turn the lights back on upstairs, and the only lights are going to be in stairwells or around emergency exits, or here, at my desk. As comfortable as I imagine studying in the stairwell would be, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up another chair for you.”

The offer took him by surprise, and Enjolras hesitated, trying to find a good reason not to and coming up short. “Are you going to watch TV all night?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe. But I can put some headphones on if it’ll bother you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you sort of need to pay attention to the security of the building?”

“Yes, because I’m sure all of the students who have gone home for the summer are planning to break into the library,” Grantaire said dryly.

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Grantaire perked up. “So is that a yes?”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment more before jerking a nod. “Let me grab my stuff.”

Grantaire grinned. I’ll be here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Enjolras muttered, turning around to grab his things from upstairs. He knew that he should just go home, or maybe move to Starbucks or the student union, both of which he was pretty sure were still open 24/7.

But if he was being honest, he was mostly just working to have something to do while he waited for Combeferre and Courfeyrac to get back to campus. And besides, whether or not it was flirting, if Enjolras was being entirely honest, he hadn’t entirely hated the conversation he’d had with Grantaire.

Even if Grantaire was two steps away from being a fascist cop.

His mind made up, Enjolras gathering his belongings and made his way back to the circulation desk, letting himself behind the desk and joining Grantaire back in the office, where, true to his word, Grantaire had procured another chair. “Voila,” Grantaire said, grinning up at him, and Enjolras set his stuff down on the desk, glancing at the computer screen, which was paused on an advertisement.

“What are you watching?” he asked.

Grantaire glanced at the computer as if he’d completely forgotten he was watching anything. “Oh, uh, Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

“Seriously?” Enjolras demanded.

“Yeah, well, it’s quite popular—”

Enjolras snorted. “Sure, it’s copaganda repackaged into a sitcom, what’s not to love?”

Grantaire whistled lowly. “Wow, you must be fun at parties.”

“I make it my business not to attend too many parties,” Enjolras retorted.

Grantaire looked amused. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the comeback you think it is.”

Enjolras had realized the same thing, and flushed slightly. “Seriously, though, don’t you understand what role shows like Brooklyn Nine-Nine or Law & Order or—”

“Or Chicago PD or NCIS or CSI when it was still airing,” Grantaire continued, nodding officiously.

Enjolras glared at him. “My point,” he said icily, “is that these shows have engendered in the American public a tacit complicity in the ever-expanding and increasing militarization of our police.”

Grantaire nodded. “They sure do.”

“You agree with me?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “That surprises you?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I mean, I was expecting even boilerplate pushback about how it’s ‘just a show’ or something like that.”

“Entertainment is as much a reflection of society as it is a tool to shape it,” Grantaire said, propping his feet up on the desk. “Only an idiot would argue against that.”

“And I’m meant to believe you’re no idiot,” Enjolras said dryly. “So then are you just...ok with the militarization of our police?”

Grantaire sighed. “Of course not.”

“Ok, so you acknowledge the role shows like this play, and you are against said role, but you’re watching it anyway?”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sounds about right,” he said cheerfully.

Enjolras stared at him. “But...why?”

“Because I believe you can critically engage with the media you consume while also, y’know, consuming it,” Grantaire said. “Besides, it’s funny.” Enjolras shook his head slowly but Grantaire didn’t let him speak, instead patting the seat next to him invitingly. “Look, you and I can and probably will argue about this all night, but how about you sit for it? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked mildly. “I would think you of all people would be more in favor of an egalitarian seating arrangement.”

Even though Enjolras glared at him, he nonetheless sat down. “Fine,” he said stiffly. “But don’t think that this conversation is done.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’ve got all night. Are you going somewhere?”

This time, Enjolras didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#Enjolras #Grantaire #Enjolras x Grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #ask #answered #hey nonny #les miserables #fanfiction #one shot #modern au #developing relationship #prompt fill #Anonymous

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Handle This (12)

In Which Lila Learns about Skyrim

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry for taking a bit with this chapter. It isn’t even very long. But I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. We’re coming up close to the end of the story, but there’s maybe two more chapters after this.

(Psst this chapter has hints to the next story I’ll publish after this one...as long as my ideas don’t change lol)

Lila was fired. It was immediate when they found out. Everyone sat in class, the lecture normal and lulling everyone into a soft state of sedation.

Then Lila screamed. The scream was the worst thing Marinette had ever heard. Immediately, everyone turned to look at her in horror.

She started bawling. Huge gasping sobs of someone who’d been shot.

“Lila?!” Miss Bustier gasped in shock and concern. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Bustier!” She wailed. “I just wanted to peek at my email and—and—Mr. Agreste fired me!”

Plagg had to bite his tongue. He knew she was going to twist this somehow, but her sobbing was so beautiful to see.

“Oh Lila, I’m so sorry. It hurts a lot to lose a job. Especially when they don’t tell you to your face. That’s no fair.”

“He-he-he said that Marinette told him that I was making Adrien uncomfortable! She got me fired!”

Gasps, all around.

“What?!” Barked Marinette. “I had nothing to do with this!” Not exactly the truth...

“But that’s what Mr. Agreste said!”

Plagg stood, placing his foot on the seat, the spurs on his cowboy boots ringing with the motion. He put his cowboy hat back on (since Mrs. Bustier had asked him to remove it for violating dress code...again.) “well now. Sounds like we got ourselves in a gosh darn pickle.”

Nino snorted.

“Adrien! You never said I made you uncomfortable! Marinette must have lied to your father!”

He flicked the rim of his hat. “Now slow your roll there, Buckeroo. I know my old man, and even if Marinette was mentioned in his email, it’s likely that he just wanted to place the blame on someone else.”

Yes, throw the old man under the bus. He still deserves it, even with whole hearted apologies.

“But you know, I do feel awfully bad for you, Lila. Losing yer job and all. How’s about I make it up to ya? I’ll come sit by you for a while. Keep ya company and cheer you up. Cain’t have gettin’ all akumatized up in here, you reckon?”

Not that Lila getting akumatized was even a concern anymore. But the world wouldn’t know about Hawkmoth’s surrender until Emilie’s fate was resolved. Adrien’s family deserved that much at least.

“Oh Adrien!” Lila cried. “You really are such a wonderful friend. But I couldn’t bear to make you move on my behalf. You need to focus on your work.”

“A cowboy needs to be exceptional at multitasking. That is, as long as Mrs. Brassiere is okay with it.”

Miss Bustier pinched the bridge of her nose. Usually, she was a very calm and level-headed teacher, compassionate and understanding. But Adrien’s antics were stressing her out massively. “Yes, Adrien, I suppose it’s fine if you move to—what did you call me?”

“Much obliged, Madam. If’en you’ll excuse me...”

Marinette watched with fascination as Plagg gathered up his materials and moved to the back of the class to sit next to Lila. Then she glanced in her purse, where Tikki and Adrien were hanging out. They both shrugged.

Due to the retirement of Hawkmoth, Adrien was now allowed to spend time away from the Miraculous without consequence. Plagg assured him that once the final condition was met, no matter where he was, his soul would return to his body.

So he spent the school day with Tikki, and the evenings with Marinette. It was a sweet deal, and it really gave Adrien the time to bond with her without school or akumas in the way.

He had even spent the night with her the night before, curled up next to her on her pillow, and purring every time Marinette’s hand glanced his fur.

Nino leaned back in his seat. “Do you know what he’s up to this time?”

“No idea...but I am eager to see where this goes.”

Nino shook his head with a shrug. Two nights ago, when Plagg was arrested, Nino gathered all the money in his savings and went down to the jail to bail him out.

Only to find out he was already let go.

So he went back home, and called Adrien’s phone relentlessly, hoping for an answer.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, Chat Noir returned and explained that he was going home now, thanks for having him, he had to watch the mansion because his sort of repentant father was going to Tibet to resurrect his dead wife.

Nino gave up on logic and understanding, and just made sure Plagg had everything he had brought.

Now he would wait until the whole situation blew over, and hopefully Adrien himself, in his own body, would explain it all to him. Plagg seemed to oversimplify everything to the point it became vague.

Marinette, on the other hand, was very curious to see where this was all going. After all, Adrien’s previous tactic of being nice to Lila hadn’t worked. So what was Plagg hoping to gain from the same approach?

Wrassle her with his randomly appointed cowboy charm?

In science, two classes later, Plagg had elected to sit next to Lila still, despite her protests.

Marinette was close enough now to hear what Plagg’s master plan was.

“So there’s like several types of Mer, right? But not like mermaids. This has nothing to do with mermaids. These are mostly elves, but not all. So there’s Dunmer, right? Those are dark elves. And Bosmer, wood elves, and Altmer, high elves. The Falmer are snow elves, but they’re all twisted and savage, because of the Dwemer, which are dwarves!”

Marinette snorted a bit too loudly, drawing attention from the teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, is something funny?”

“No ma’am, I had a tickle in my sinuses.”

“Ah, I see. Anyways, as I was saying...”

Lila always sat in the back of the class, despite her many alleged disabilities. This was probably to get away with the fact that she rarely paid attention during class.

It was the ideal place for Plagg to harass her and not get caught.

Poetry in motion.

“So you get to pick what race you want to be, but you’re always the Dragonborn. Despite the description, you don’t look any different. So a Dragonborn is someone that can devour the souls of dragons so they don’t get resurrected by Alduin. Let me back up, Alduin is an evil dragon that used to rule the world, and he’s resurrecting dragons so he can take over. There’s another dragon though, named Paarthanax, and he’s a good guy. He helps out the Tongues on the Throat of the World. Or the greybeards. Some call them Tongues, but in the game they’re called Graybeards. And the tongues are the monks that teach you to shout. And different shouts teach you different things, right? The dragonborn and the tongues are the only ones that are supposed to know how to shout, but there’s this other dude named Ulfric Stormcloak, and he knows Unrelenting Force, that’s the Fus Ro Da shout I was talking about earlier? He used it to kill high king Torygg to start a war. Oh yeah, so there’s nine holds with Jarls, right—“

The day ended, and Lila stood quickly. “Well Adrien, thank you so much for keeping me company today. I’m feeling a lot better. You can move back up to your old spot tomorrow.”

“Well, you shore are welcome, Pardner. But sittin here in the back has been mighty nice. I think I’ll stay! You don’t mind, do ya? It’s awfully fun to have you as company!”

Lila’s eye twitched, but she was aware that most of the class was watching them. “Yeah. That’d be...great.”

“Darn tootin’! Well, you look like you’re in a rush, don’t want to hold you up!”

“See you tomorrow!” She chirped, before hurrying from the room. As she passed Marinette, a dark look came over her face. The look of someone seething with rage and hatred, but trying to hide it.

Marinette would have been scared, if Lila hadn’t been dealing with Plagg instead.

Marinette went home, Tikki and Adrien talking to her from her collar.

“I don’t know. Plagg was successful with the first two tasks, but I don’t know how he’s going to turn Lila over to the good side.” Marinette mused.

“I don’t know if he has to. The condition is to just get her to leave me alone. He said he was doing some Pavlovian Jedi mind trick on her.”

“Well, I sure hope it works. Speaking of, where is Plagg?”

Adrien’s ears flicked. “He left pretty suddenly after class. I didn’t see him go. Hopefully, he went back to the mansion.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No, I trust him. He’s got things under control.”

“Glad to hear it! Ready for snack time?”

“Oh heck yes!”

—

Lila had to actively stop herself from stomping all the way home. Frustration rolled off of her in waves, and she mildly wondered why she hadn’t been akumatized yet.

Adrien Agreste was the most annoying person she had ever met. And oblivious too! He never picked up on any of her subtle hints to get him to shut up! She really didn’t want to be rude, because his friendship looked great on her, but wow. No wonder he didn’t have any friends. No wonder Gabriel was so protective of him. If he wasn’t cute...his personality was like a wet sock.

And he was weird. Weird mannerisms, weird speech pattern, just weird. Hopefully she could either get used to it, or Adrien would get a clue to stop being so obnoxious.

Finally, she reached her apartment.

“Home mom!” She called.

There was laughter in the kitchen. Her mother had a guest. While not uncommon, there was just a hint of dread that hung in the air.

Lila walked to the kitchen, only to see Adrien sitting at the table, talking to her mother! How?! How did he beat her here?! How did he know where she lived?! What the hell was he doing?!

“Adrien?” Lila gawked.

He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Sorry for popping in uninvited. I just...I was worried about you! You’ve been akumatized twice, and I didn’t want it to happen again since you were fired.”

Lila’s face paled as her mother gave her a stern look.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Missy. I didn’t know you were modeling. And you never told me about being akumatized!”

Adrien gasped. “Oh no! She didn’t tell you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that was a secret! I won’t say anymore!”

“Any more?” Mrs. Rossi asked. “There’s more?”

“Adrien.” Lila bit, in warning.

“Well...I mean, you knew she was meeting with my father right? Something about being his muse?”

Mrs. Rossi looked horrified. “What! You were talking to a grown adult man?! Were these visits supervised?!”

Lila opened her mouth to answer, but Plagg beat her to it. “I don’t think so. Father is a very private person.”

“Lila Giselle Rossi! You are sooo grounded! No offense to your father, Adrien, but meeting up with an adult man, unsupervised? And to what, be his muse? What does that even mean? It sounds gross!”

“I swear nothing happened! He just wanted my opinion-”

“On what? What reason would he have to ask a 14 year old’s opinion?”

Plagg winced and looked at Lila. “I’m so sorry, Lila. I came here to help, but...”

Lila shook with rage. Her mother was a complete pushover and believed everything she said. Now Adrien had sewn the seeds of distrust in her and she wouldn’t get away with any white lies ever again.

“You’re dead,” She mouthed at Plagg.

“Adrien, thank you for coming here and telling me all of this. I’m very grateful. But I think it’s best if you head home now. Lila has some chores to do.”

“I understand, Madam Rossi. Again, I’m really sorry...I just wanted to help.”

“Oh don’t worry, you did. This is for Lila’s own good.”

He sheepishly looked to her. “See you tomorrow?”

Her eye twitched. “Yeah.”

And Plagg swiftly walked from the apartment, concealing his evil laughter until he got to the door.

—

The next day at school, Marinette, along with Tikki and Adrien in her bag, arrived at school just a few minutes before the bell rang.

Plagg was sitting at the front of the room, wearing a Pikachu onesie, and looking absolutely devastated. Nino sat next to him and had a hand over his face, doing his best to conceal whatever emotion he had.

Everyone else in the room was avoiding them like they had the plague.

Alya spotted her and came quickly, looping an arm through hers and escorting them out into the hall. “Girl, big news. I know you love Adrien, so this is going to be a blow. But here’s the thing...Lila told us this morning that Adrien came to her house yesterday and told her mom about her modeling job. Apparently, her mom didn’t want her working, and got upset that Lila lied. Adrien’s been insisting that it wasn’t on purpose, but everyone is kind of pissed at him anyway.”

Marinette said nothing, but bit her lip. She knew that this absolutely was on purpose.

“I’ll leave your actions up to you, but people are pretty mad at Adrien. Just letting you know.”

“Who’s side are you taking?”

Alya scoffed. “None. I’m staying out of this. Both people are in the right. Obviously Sunshine just wanted to prevent her from being akumatized. He was with her all day yesterday. It’s admirable, really.”

“It is.” Marinette said with a smile. Though she was smiling for a completely different reason. There were no akumatizations anymore. Everyone was safe now.

“We better get back in there, class will start soon.”

So they returned. Miss Bustier was in, and ready to begin the lesson.

Then Plagg raised his hand.

“Yes Adrien?”

“Before we start class, I want to say something.”

“Go ahead, Adrien. The floor is yours.”

He stood, and looked to Lila in the back of the room. “Lila, I know I apologized yesterday, but I’m really really sorry about outing you to your mom. I had no idea she didn’t know about your rendezvous with my father. I was just really scared that you were going to become akumatized, and I didn’t want that to happen. My friends are all important to me, and losing you would be like ripping out a piece of my heart. Could you ever forgive me?”

Marinette glanced Nino’s face, which twitched to hide a smile. Then she looked at Lila, who looked calm, but her hands were balled into fists.

After many breathless minutes, Lila smiled slightly. “I understand, Adrien. Of course you’re still my friend. I treasure you too! I’m sorry I got so mad.”

“Hugs?” Plagg raised his arms.

Lila could pretend to be happy and calm, but the paling of her skin could not be hidden. “Hugs!”

Plagg brought her in for a squeeze, and the class ‘aww’ed at their make up.

Except Nino, who let out the tiniest snort.

Marinette flicked open her purse to look at Adrien. He mimed a gagging gesture back.

And then Plagg took those last couple steps and joined Lila on her bench. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke up and said, “hey, maybe you should give her some space anyway.”

They just all let poor, socially awkward Adrien push boundaries and take his seat. Because he had apologized so earnestly for trying to help. And she had forgiven him. So everything was fine now.

Right?

As the lesson started, Marinette paid attention to the teacher. But occasionally, she’d hear the faintest whispers of Adrien’s voice (Plagg’s voice now).

“...so it’s commonly believed that the Nord’s came from Atmora with Ysgramor, but they believe that they settled Skyrim, so they’re kind of racist to everyone else. But also, the Empire came in out of nowhere and tried to upheave their way of life, and even told them which Gods they were allowed to worship. High King Torygg was playing cordial with the Aldmeri Dominion, and some of the other Jarl’s didn’t like that. So Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Whiterun shouted him to death. Just like the Dragonborn can. Though it’s never explained why he knows how to do this. So this started a whole civil war…”

Marinette chanced a glance behind her, and noticed that Lila had her head in her hands, and she looked absolutely miserable.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrien and plagg #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #identity reveal #chat noir #ladybug #fanfiction #I'll Handle This

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sergeantsporks · 4 years ago

Text

Swapped

Ch 5/5

TW: Blood

Ao3

Or read under the cut

The question of how Douxie would know when Merlin had come back was answered very easily. His magical presence swept into town like a hurricane of arcane energy, old and powerful. Douxie dropped the books he was shelving. “He’s here. Archie—”

“I felt it, too,” Archie murmured, “Douxie—”

Douxie didn’t wait to hear whatever it was. He bolted, following the source of magic until he came to… Jim’s house. Of course. The trollhunter. Merlin’s champion. Why wouldn’t he be there?

Still, Douxie felt enraged on the real Hisirdoux’s behalf. Shouldn’t Merlin have come to his apprentice first?!

There was nothing for it. He couldn’t approach Merlin with Jim around. He trudged back to the bookstore, silently seething. The hell. He’d been waiting, waiting for CENTURIES, and Merlin couldn’t even bother to check in on his apprentice?! What kind of master was he?!

Douxie slammed the bookstore door shut. “He’s staying with the trollhunter,” he snarled, “What was the point of opening up this store if he wasn’t even going to—”

“I think you ought to call in for work at the café tonight,” Archie said mildly.

“What?!”

Archie nodded to a cuckoo clock on the wall. It was going nuts and bananas. “I think Merlin’s trying to get us a message.”

Night fell all too quickly, and suddenly, Douxie wasn’t too sure about this whole mission. He’d never studied how Hisirdoux had interacted with his master—he couldn’t have. What if he messed it up?

The bell to the shop tinkled.

An old man in armor strode through.

Douxie took a step forward to greet Merlin.

And a pulse of magic immediately sent him flying backwards and into a bookshelf.

Douxie lay there, stunned, wondering what had just hit him. Archie hissed and flapped down to stand next to him, his back arched. “Who are you?!” the familiar demanded, “Why do you look like Merlin?!”

The old man pushed through the room and towards Douxie. “Move aside, Archibald, this is not your familiar!”

Douxie struggled to push himself up, mind racing. He didn’t know—he couldn’t! This was a test, right?! “Master—”

Another blast of magic caught him, throwing him across the room again, this time so hard the books fell off of the shelf, burying him. “You are not my apprentice!”

Archie dive-bombed Merlin, clawing at his metal-plated head. “What is the matter with you?!”

Merlin pushed him aside. “Nothing is wrong with me, now move aside and let me handle this!”

Douxie blasted his way out of the books, burning with rage. Fine! Merlin wanted a fight?! He’d get a fight! He threw spell after spell at Merlin, but the wizard just kept approaching. Douxie threw up a hasty shield as Merlin sent another magic blast, but Merlin’s magic overcame his own, and he was pushed back again. He struggled back to his feet.

“If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get,” he yelled, pulling on the fire in the grate and hurling it towards Merlin with a scream.

Merlin caught the flames and dismissed them in a puff of smoke, his eyes blazing as chains shot from his hands and wrapped around Douxie. “Where is my apprentice?!” he shouted.

Archie pushed in-between them. “Both of you, stop it!” he yowled, “Merlin, it’s Douxie! Can’t you recognize your own apprentice?!”

“I think the better question is why you can’t recognize an imposter,” Merlin growled. He held up an iron horseshoe. “Let’s see who you really are, hm?”

“This is ridiculous!” Archie snarled, “Nine centuries napping addled your mind, Merlin!”

“Then it won’t hurt anything.”

Douxie struggled to get out of the magical chains. “Don’t you get near me! Leave me alone!”

Wrong move. Archie paused, looking back at him. “Douxie?”

“Arch—don’t let him get me, you know it’s me!”

Archie shook his head, “It… it can’t hurt, right?”

The door was pushed open, and Zoe gaped. “… Douxie?!” She ran towards them, but Archie flew up.

“Wait,” he said in a resigned voice, “Something’s… not right.”

Merlin brandished the horseshoe as Douxie thrashed desperately against his bonds. “Last chance,” he thundered, “Tell the truth now, creature!”

Douxie flinched away from the iron held inches from his skin. “Fine!” he howled, “Fine, I—I’m—I’m not—” He couldn’t finish.

Merlin set down the horseshoe. “Where. Is my. Apprentice.”

Archie fell to the ground, like his wings couldn’t support him anymore. “Douxie—no, you’re not—”

“I’m sorry, Archie,” Douxie pleaded, “I never meant—I know I…”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Merlin growled, “Where. Is. The real. Hisirdoux.”

“I don’t know.”

Merlin grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Yes you do! You’re lying! Where have you stashed him?!”

“He’s not lying,” Zoe interjected, “He doesn’t know. He tips his head and widens his eyes when he lies.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. “How long?”

Douxie stared at the ground. He couldn’t look any of them in the eye either. Every dream of rescuing his parents and then continuing with Zoe and Archie was crashing down around his ears, seeming to mock him for thinking he could EVER have gotten away with it. “Eight centuries.”

Archie’s claws went in and out. “Eight centuries. I didn’t notice you were an imposter for eight centuries.”

“It was a clever enchantment,” Merlin said softly, “It bonded him to Hisirdoux as a familiar, giving you and he the same attachment—there was no way for you to tell through your familiar’s bond. The same holds true for my apprenticeship bond. I only knew because I am familiar with Morgana’s magic on a much deeper level, and he reeks of her enchantment.”

“I still should have noticed.”

Merlin tilted Douxie’s face up. “What dark purpose were you sent for, creature?”

“I was supposed to spy on you,” Douxie muttered, tearing his face away, “I was supposed to report your plans to Gunmar.”

Archie shook his head. “How could you?!” he hissed, his ears flattened, “Why—”

All of the rage and confusion that had been building up over the last few months—at Merlin, at the Order, at Morgana, at himself, finally broke loose. “It’s not like I ASKED to be a changeling,” he shouted, “It’s not like I ASKED for every single thing about me to be ripped to shreds and pieced back together! I didn’t ASK to be born in the Darklands, and I didn’t ASK to be a wizard troll, and I didn’t ASK to get torn away from my family and be told I couldn’t see them or even think about them ever again, and I didn’t ASK to be a replacement for some wizard who’s somehow oh-so-better than me in every way!” Tears dripped down his face, and he HATED it, and he hated them all looking at him. “I didn’t ask for any of this! But when the Pale Lady says she’s picked you, and you’re living in the darklands where everything is a living nightmare and Gunmar has control over everything you don’t exactly get to say ‘no thank you! I’d rather not be a changeling if it’s all the same to you!’ No one ever ASKED me if I wanted to do it, but you all act like I had any CHOICE in ANY OF THIS!”

The chains disappeared, and he thumped to the floor, wiping at his eyes, “I don’t know where Hisirdoux is,” he said in a small, broken voice, “I don’t know what Morgana is planning.”

“Do you know anything?” Archie begged, “Even the slightest hint of how he is? Is he safe?”

Douxie felt like his heart was being ripped into shreds. He sounded so worried, and Douxie knew he wouldn’t ever sound like that for him again. It didn’t matter how much time they’d spent together, how many centuries he’d been away from the real Hisirdoux. He still preferred the company of someone he’d lost long ago.

Zoe had asked why he wanted to go back to Merlin so bad when the time he’d had with her and Archie was more real.

Now he could ask her the same question.

He sniffed, looking up at Merlin. “You know how changelings’ bonds with their familiars work?” he croaked. At a nod from the old wizard, he peeled his jacket off, revealing the blue lines of stone in his flesh. He took off his shirt, too, and stared bleakly at his skin, which almost seemed more blue than pink. Archie hissed in, and Douxie shivered. “I can’t help you find him. I’m sorry.”

“Get out,” Merlin growled, “Get out of my shop.”

Douxie wriggled back into his shirt, clutching his jacket like a lifeline. “Where am I going to go?”

“I don’t care. Hopefully you’ll wander into a patch of sunlight as a troll and get turned to stone. I’m getting my apprentice back one way or another.” He leaned in, yanking Douxie up by the shirt front and pushing him out the door. “And you tell Morgana that it doesn’t matter what she is planning. After what she did to my apprentice, I will kill her myself.”

He released Douxie, pushing him away, and slamming the door in his face. Douxie felt the sun start to burn on the exposed stone lines and he slipped back into his jacket, tears running down his face. Archie hated him. Zoe didn’t even want to look at him. His mission was in shambles. He’d somehow managed to lose everyone.

Well. He could still get his parents—maybe he couldn’t live happily ever after with Zoe and Archie anymore. But he still could at least have his family. He just had to get into trollmarket. And he knew just the person.

Douxie jogged to the Nunez house, throwing rocks at the window he knew was Claire’s. Morgana wasn’t there anymore—that was good. He didn’t need her slithering around in his mind right now.

Claire opened the window, her mouth open wide. “Douxie?!” she hissed.

“I know everything,” he said in a rush, “Claire, I know you’re a shadow magician. I know about Gunmar and Morgana and Merlin and Jim. And I need you to get me into trollmarket. Please.”

Claire slid out the window. “How long…?”

“The whole time,” he confessed, “I’m a wizard, Claire. And…” she didn’t need to know about the changeling thing. “I just need one favor. One portal in. I’ll find my own way out.”

“It’s going to be crazy dangerous in there, Douxie!”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, “Claire, please. And. Uh. Don’t tell Jim.”

She drew back. “Why?”

Douxie shifted from one foot to another. “Mmmmm Merlin wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out. Just… keep this one secret. Please?”

She hesitated, then summoned her staff to her. “Okay. Be careful, alright? I’m counting on crushing you in Battle of the Bands.”

“Heh. Okay.” Not something he’d be doing anymore, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Claire opened the portal. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, fair Claire.”

Douxie slipped through the portal and into troll market, snatching up a key that he saw. There. Way out, taken care of. He was pretty sure Dictatious would let him go if he told him the mission was going well, but just in case…

He made his way to the Hero’s Forge, where Gunmar was making Gum-Gums. In a cage in the corner was… the real Hisirdoux. Douxie’s familiar was limp on the floor of his cage, still bleeding from several recent wounds. Douxie traced the blue lines on his skin he knew matched up with the injuries. This wasn’t right. They should have known better than to harm a familiar, and besides, how could they… was this the fate in store for Zoe? “Where’s Dictatious?” he blurted.

Gunmar whirled around. “Dictatious is a traitor and a worm,” he snarled, “Tell me who you are before I rip your head off!”

Douxie held his hands up. “I’m a changeling! I was the Pale Lady’s special assignment?”

Gunmar regarded him for a moment, then growled. “I remember. Speak.”

“Dictatious promised that—that my parents would be taken care of,” Douxie stammered, “I—I wanted to see—”

“They’re dead,” Gunmar said dismissively, “Died a few years after you were sent out. Couldn’t survive in the Darklands. They were weak.”

A surge of rage swept over Douxie, and his magic responded, sending out a pulse that sent Gunmar flying backwards, and blasted open the cage in the corner. Douxie ran across the room, ripping the door of the cage off of its hinges. He picked up his unconscious familiar and slung him over one shoulder. Archie might hate him now. But he could still do this for him.

“TRAITOR!” Gunmar howled.

“You go back on your word, I go back on mine!” Douxie hissed, and he ran. Hisirdoux was heavy, but not unbearably so, and he made it to the gyre station, using the key he’d picked up earlier to escape into the sewers. Heavy stone feet pounded after him, but he had one advantage they didn’t, and the first chance he got, he surged into sunlight. Enraged howls echoed behind him, but he ignored them, charging through the streets of Arcadia.

He hesitated outside of the bookshop. They’d made it quite clear that they’d never wanted to see him again. Even if he brought back their lost friend, would they even start to forgive him?

He was about to just set Hisirdoux down, ring the doorbell, and run away, when the door was pulled open, and Zoe’s shocking blue eyes met his. “Douxie?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

“Hey,” he responded. He tried for his usual bravado, but his voice cracked, and he looked away. “I, uh. I found him. Gunmar brought him back from the Darklands, and… can we come in?”

She wordlessly stepped aside, and he walked in, gently putting his familiar down on a desk. Merlin was glaring at him, but moved towards his unconscious apprentice.

“DOUXIE!” Archie yowled, diving down and nudging his face.

Douxie stepped back as they crowded around the real Hisirdoux, shrinking into a corner. Why did doing the right thing feel so awful?!

When Zoe saw the injuries Hisirdoux had sustained, her hands clenched into fists, and thunder boomed outside. Rain came not long after.

“About your mission…” she started.

Hisirdoux woke up, quailing away from the hands trying to bandage his wounds. Zoe turned back to him. He flinched at the light, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Douxie?” Archie asked quietly, his voice cracking.

Hisirdoux reached a trembling hand out and clumsily pat the cat, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut. Merlin got the hint and dimmed the lights.

Slowly, carefully, Hisirdoux opened his eyes. They fell on Douxie.

And he started to scream.

“What is it?” Archie asked frantically, “What’s wrong?”

To everyone’s surprise, especially Merlin’s, Hisirdoux launched himself at the wizard, burying his face in Merlin’s armor, babbling about “his face but not his face and he got me.” Merlin patted his back, picked him up, and took him into a back room, presumably where he wouldn’t have to look at his changeling self anymore.

The sick, horrible feeling in Douxie’s stomach got worse as Archie gave him a tortured look and fled to the back room after Hisirdoux. Merlin emerged a few moments later, glaring. “I’m removing the bond between you and my apprentice,” he said stiffly, “After which you will leave and never come back. I… appreciate your rescuing of him, but you cannot stay around. It would cause him far too much distress, and recovery from his ordeal will be difficult enough as is without a visual reminder of the one who put him there in the first place.”

“I—”

Merlin waved a hand, and something seemed to go snap inside of Douxie, like a line being broken.

And fire broke out inside his veins.

When he’d been turned into a changeling, it had felt like he was being ripped apart and thrown back together. This transformation, it was different. Everything was stretching and elongating. His shoes fell off as his feet shrank, and the rest of his clothes got tight and uncomfortable as he got taller. The skin on his head split and dripped blood down his face as his horns erupted back. Douxie curled in a ball on the ground, blind with pain as his bones shifted and popped and moved in ways that human bones weren’t supposed to move. His canines popped out of his mouth of their own accord, heavy, sharp teeth meant for biting and tearing forcing their way out. He gagged on the blood, spitting it out with a whine. His feet felt like they were compressing and shrinking, like they were being shoved in too-tight shoes if those shoes were ten sizes too small and hardening all the time.

He hadn’t thought he’d miss crying, but the pain made him want to, and he just couldn’t, because his body didn’t work that way anymore and it hurt!

And then it was over, just leaving him sore and achy and clumsy and too heavy and with his body all rearranged and strange. The rain was pouring down even harder now, like Zoe had completely lost control of all her magic. She looked horrified, and he had to stop looking at her, because it hurt too much in a way that the transformation hadn’t.

Merlin waved a hand, and the door opened. “Leave. The rain will keep you from being burned by the sun.”

Douxie struggled to his feet—no, hooves, and they slipped and slid under him. He fell, and he knew if his troll body was capable of it, tears would have pricked his eyes as he tried and failed again to walk.

“GO!” Merlin yelled, and Douxie scrambled away, pulling his hood up to hide his face. He slipped and slid in the rain, half crawling and stumbling along the ground.

Where was he supposed to go?

Xxx

Merlin reentered the back room, dusting off his hands. “I’ve taken care of the changeling. How’s Hisirdoux?”

Archie shuddered. Douxie—the real Douxie—had fallen asleep, thank goodness. “Taken care of? Did you…”

“He’s alive. I’ve permanently returned him to his troll form, and he’s gone. He’ll survive.”

Archie told himself that he shouldn’t feel bad for the changeling. He’d kidnapped Douxie. He’d impersonated him for years. He’d tricked them all.

But he still felt… something. It was complicated. And hearing him scream and whimper from the other room…

No. He had his Hisirdoux back, the real one. That was what mattered.

Archie kneaded the ground with his claws anxiously. “Merlin… I’ve changed, over the last eight-hundred years since he was replaced. I’m sure he’s changed, too. What if… what if we’ve changed in different directions? And I didn’t even realize it wasn’t him with us. What if…”

“I expect getting back to some semblance of normal will take work,” Merlin responded gruffly, “You will both have to adapt to get used to this new reality. I expect I haven’t changed much at all, being asleep.”

“I think that will help. To have some kind of constant. I’m just worried…”

“Archibald. You are his familiar, and he is yours. You are linked in a way that is unexplainable, and your bond with him goes deeper than a superficial friendship. It may take some doing, but I think the two of you will be just fine. Can’t say the same for that other wizard. She’s long gone—took off after the changeling.”

Archie’s ears pricked up. “Zoe?”

“Is that her name? Yes, she left not long after, calling for him.”

Some part of Archie felt… relieved. His place was here, with the real Douxie. But the changeling… Archie had grown to love him, too, even if it had been a lie.

At least he won’t be alone.

Xxx

Douxie pulled his hoodie drawstrings tighter. He was hiding under a street, in a ditch tunnel. It was wet, and cold, and miserable.

Perfect for how he already felt.

He couldn’t even walk properly—how was he supposed to live the rest of his life in this form?

A shadow approached in the rain, and Zoe ducked under the concrete tunnel entrance, soaking wet. “Hey. You picked a hell of a place to camp out.”

Douxie hugged his knees to his chest. “I can’t go back.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Zoe shifted from one foot to the other. “Hey, uh. What I was trying to ask earlier, about your mission… was I a part of it? Was that first date on the belltower part of some plan? Was our relationship…”

“No,” Douxie replied immediately, “It wasn’t part of the plan, it was… it was the one thing I DID ask for. The one part of this stupid situation that I chose.”

“Okay. Good. I was hoping you’d say that. So… I’m thinking small-town Arcadia kind of blows. Where’s our next adventure?”

Douxie lifted his head. “What?”

“Where do you want to go next? I’ve heard Yellowstone is nice. Or the redwoods—those are even pretty close!”

Douxie’s brain short-circuited. “Wait. You… you don’t want to stay with the real Hisirdoux?”

She snorted. “I only knew him for like. Two weeks before you swapped with him. I don’t know the real Hisirdoux. I know you. I spent eight centuries with you. I fell in love with you. I’m not in love with the real Hisirdoux—I’m in love with you.”

“But I thought—all the rain—you’re not mad at me?”

“What? No! I—I was scared. I came in, and Merlin was attacking you, and Archie was taking his side, and—I was mad. I was mad because Merlin hurt you, and I was scared because you were hurting so bad and there wasn’t anything I could DO, and… I wasn’t mad at you. You can be… frustrating, sometimes, but this time… I was just scared for you.”

“So…”

She sat down next to him, lacing her hand in his much larger one. “So… what’s your real name?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I… I don’t remember. I’ve been Douxie for so long, I don’t know who I started out as.”

“K. I’ll just keep calling you Douxie, then. Where to next?”

“Isn’t it… I mean, I can’t travel in daylight now. We’d have to travel at night, or in the rain, or—”

Zoe shut him up by pulling him down by his collar and kissing him. “Good thing I like the rain.”

Douxie blinked, relatively certain that if he’d had his human form, he would be bright scarlet. “Uh. Heh.”

Zoe grinned. “So. Where to next?”

(Yay, ending! Thanks for reading, it was fun!)

#toa #tales of arcadia #douxie #zoe #archie #merlin #dalmar #swapped #toa fanfic #my fanfiction #my oc #changeling!douxie au

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hailbop1701 · 4 years ago

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25 Days of Ficmas

December 16th prompt: "It's fucking freezing!"

Word count: 4,062

Ripper's Gifts

Warning: Blood and gore are ahead! Please of that makes you uncomfortable skip this one. Might be triggering!

Hi everyone! So this one went pretty damn dark pretty damn fast! I blame @thottiewithashotgun! So this content might not be suitable for all viewers! Reader!Whump and Angsty!Kennex Lemme know how I did!

-H❤🖖

Detective John Kennex chuckled amused at the face you were making across the street. You had a deep scowl and your arms were firmly crossed over your chest. “Come on (Y/N) you have to be seductive,” he said into the comms. You full-on glared in his general direction, “It’s fucking freezing! I don’t see you out here in a short tight dress!” you growled. John snickered again, “yeah well the guy we’re after has a type and I’m not it,” he said a clear smile in his voice. You huffed and leaned back against the bar you were situated in front of. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your clutch bag and put one in between your red-painted lips, Dorian furrowed his brows. “Since when do you smoke?” he asked mildly concerned; you smirked, “I don’t. But I refuse to look like this standing out on the sidewalk,” you mumbled lighting the cigarette expertly. Noticing the heavy silence you rolled your eyes, “let’s just say I was rebellious in high school,”

John chuckled, “I don’t think that has changed much (Y/N),” you narrowed your eyes and discreetly flipped him off. John’s laughter grew louder, “Target sighted,” Dorian broke in leaning forward. A man pulled up in an old van that really shouldn’t be street legal, he pulled on a hood and hopped out of the driver's seat. He whistled twirling a set of keys around his finger, face covered he ducked around the car to where you were standing. “Damnit I can’t see them,” John muttered straining to see over the windowless van. “Can anyone get a visual?” he asked into the comms. There were multiple negatives; Kennex looked over at Dorian who was staring off into space trying to find any CCTV footage of the bar. That’s when everything went dark, Dorian sagged in his seat and John’s leg felt heavier than it should. John shoved open his door, he watched as SWAT surged forward. They rounded the van and it was completely silent for a moment before the SWAT commander walked back towards him shaking his head. “Fuck!” he shouted punching his steering wheel repeatedly. The commander looked elsewhere awkwardly, “Detective, the EMP affected half the city we need to get back to the PD,” he said after a minute of Kennex’s seething. Taking a deep breath John nodded and started his car, “I’ll meet you there,” he muttered slamming his door shut.

The PD was a flurry of activity, Dorian-who revived in the middle of the trip back- help John to his desk. Rudy rushed over to him with a tool bag in his hand, “What happened?” Maldanado snapped striding over to him. John gritted his teeth, “Guy knew it was a setup,” he hissed rolling up his pant leg so Rudy could do his thing. The Captain’s eyes flashed, “He set off a major EMP! Half the city is in the dark!” she practically shouted making John’s temper flare. “He also has (Y/N)! He had an exit strategy,” he snarled, the Captain gave him a warning look before her eyes softened. She knew John may or may not have some feelings for you. “We’ll find her John but until the power comes back on we’re flying literally in the dark,” she said in a calming tone. Kennex deflated, his thoughts immediately went to the case file and the autopsies of the girls that had been found. Dorian placed a hand on his partner and friend's shoulder, “We’ll find her John,” he reassured. John glanced down at Rudy who had lifted his leg onto a chair; the skittish man was mumbling to himself as he unscrewed a little panel from the prosthetic. “Will I live?” Kennex asked dryly. Rudy’s head snapped up his glasses crooked slightly, “It should be fine, I just need to fix a few little things and then you’ll be good to go,” he said waving a tiny screwdriver around. John sighed and leaned back in his chair a tension headache brewing over his eyes. He didn’t want to think about what could be happening to you.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

It felt like your head was full of cotton and a subtle pain in your shoulders and wrists made you groan. “I’m hanging like a piece of meat. That’s great, just great,” you muttered sourly; opening your eyes you saw that you were in what looked to be a basement. “Great, a dungeon. The guy has a dungeon,” you grumped a scowl forming on your lips. Something shifted in the shadows of the basement, leaning forward as far as the chains on the wall allowed, you squinted your eyes hoping to get a better look. Suddenly a feral dog jumped into the light snarling and snapping his jaws at you, white foam fell from his mouth. A spiked collar and chain kept him secured to the wall. The large animal growled and barked trying to break free of his restraints; you quickly leaned back hoping to keep as far away from the hound as possible, “Good doggy…” you gulped. The sound of old fashioned locks clicked and the basement door opened with a loud screech. Wincing at the sound you tensed as the man slowly stomped down the stairs, “I see you’ve met Baxter. Seems like he’s excited to see you,” he chuckled. Your stomach churned your mind flashing back to the case file and how the bodies were mauled by a large animal. “Oh he’s...charming,” you mumbled eyes flitting back and forth between the killer and his pet hellhound. The man strode across the room so he could stand in front of you, he reached out and gripped your chin tightly turning your head left and right multiple times. He was examining you. He hummed in approval, “Such a beautiful specimen,” he purred, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You gritted your teeth and tried to yank your head from his grip, he growled and grabbed your throat angrily slamming your head back into the concrete wall. Choking on a pained cry you glared at the serial killer, “Now be a good girl,” he scolded with a cluck of his tongue. When you kept silent he let go of your throat, hissing you glared at the bastard “They’ll find me,” you growled. The killer chuckled, “I think they’ll be too busy to find you, but don’t you worry. They’ll see you soon,”

The statement sent shivers down your spine, the underline promise in it made you feel a little sick. Taking a shuddering breath you watched as he rummaged through a box of items; he pulled out what he needed and gently placed them in neat rows on what looked to be a surgical tray. Consistent with what you John learned, the man was medically trained. He would dissect and cut away his victims, they also found many dog bites littering the remains. Glorified meat puzzles. He looked up at you with an excited gleam in his eyes, “I know I have a method to my madness but you, my dear are very special! You get something a little different today,” he said and started to hum Christmas music under his breath. Going to the large metal table in the center of the room killer the media happily dubbed “The Ripper,” (after the original Jack the Ripper) turned on an overhead light. Blinking your eyes at the sudden assault to the senses you swallowed back bile. The floor and the table were covered in old dried blood, Ripper hummed joyously setting up a camera on a tripod so it could capture the table perfectly. He checked his watch smiling at the time. “Well my dear, it looks like it’s time!” He cheered with a loud clap. Baxter growled in his corner at the sudden loud noise, you struggled causing the chains to clatter against the walls. Ripper seemed to enjoy your fear; he slowly strolled over to you dancing and shuffling to the music he put on. Pulling a gun from the back of his pants Ripper held it pointed at you as unshackled your wrists. Your arms fell limply to your side, a pained groan fell from your lips making Ripper smiled cheekily. He placed his free hand over the back of your neck giving it a non-to-gentle squeeze. Hissing he lead you over to the bloody table; he waved his gun gesturing for you to climb on. Glaring you stood your ground refusing anything else he asked. Rolling his eyes he pulled the pistol back and whipped it across your face, yelping you crumbled toward the ground only to be caught by Ripper. “Now that’s better!” soothed as he placed you on the table with your hands back over your head, much to your bitter annoyance. Blearily you tried to fight him but he was stronger than he looked; Ripper pulled leather restraints across your chest, wrists, hips, and ankles. Tightening them so the only thing you could really move was your wrists he checked his watch again. He bellowed the rest of his song as he walked around the table to the camera, “There, now I’m sure you’re wondering what this was all about!” Ripper said walking back to your side, you realized with a jolt that he wasn’t talking to you. The red light blinked indicating that he was broadcasting to someone, ‘oh my god,’ you thought panicking. Your chest became tight and you became dizzy; Ripper smirked running a finger across your cheek, “You see I don’t like to be tricked. I don’t like the constant stupidity from you-” he searched for the word he wanted to use twisting his hand in a circular motion. “ trash heaps,” he concluded proudly. “The world will be better with the work I’m doing!” he screamed over the cheerful sound of Winter Wonderland as it played in the background.

Ripper picked up a syringe off of the surgical tray, pushing the plunger a stream of cloudy liquid streamed out. When he felt the dosage was right Ripper placed the needle to your neck. You tried to turn your head in so he could get a clear shot but he simply placed a hand on your forehead and slammed your painfully to the side. You felt the prick of the needle and the mysterious liquid enter your veins. It felt cold going through your body like ice was forming in your blood; the sensation was short-lived. A burning fire replaced the ice, every nerve was twitching painfully and you could help the pained shriek escape your lips.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Kennex’s stomach dropped as he and the others in the precinct watched as The Ripper injected an unknown compound into your blood. Your eyes were glassy and sweat rolled off of your forehead. You were gasping for air and shaking like a leaf, “As you can see I managed to perfect my serum! Every nerve ending in detective (Y/L/N)’s body is now extremely sensitive to touch. So if I do this…” he spoke like he was giving a lecture on the best ways to torture someone. Ripper took a dull blade from the tray next to him and dug it into your arm and slowly dragged it upward. A deep bloody gash ran from the crook of your elbow to your shoulder blade; the sound of your pained screams made John grip the back of his chair tightly. Valerie Stahl covered her mouth as Ripper plunged the knife into the opposite shoulder. Many of the people in the room turned their eyes away, “Dorian,” John’s voice was clipped. The android had been working to track the location ever since the footage started broadcasting. “I’m working on it!” the DRN said frantically eyes swinging back and forth like he was reading at an extremely fast pace. Rudy was tapping quickly at John’s computer only looking up occasionally at the screen, sweat beading at his temples. “Faster damnit!”

Your screams and shrieks of pain were getting more and more frequent. Blood covered your face as Ripper made shallow scratches and cuts to it. Dorian’s head snapped up, “I got him!” he said and cocked his head to the side a surprised expression crossed his face. “He’s seven blocks from here!” he gasped looking at his partner. “Cocky bastard!” detective Paul said from the other side of the bullpen. Kennex grabbed his gun from his desk drawer, loading it he shoved it into his holster. Moving quickly towards the exit John stopped when your screaming tapered off. Twisting around to look at the screen he saw you panting heavily, your chest heaved up and down. Tears fell from your eyes, Ripper gently brushed them away cooing at you. “You have a lovely singing voice,” he complimented as Silent Night played lowly in the background. “I would love to hear more,”

Stahl screeched and turned around covering her eyes. Ripper slammed a cleaver down on your arm just below your elbow effectively cutting off your arm. Your screams would echo through John’s skull for the next several months. The video cut off and Kennex was flying out the door with several MX’s and police behind him. “Calling EMS!” Dorian called as they raced to the car.

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You felt so cold; like you would never be able to get warm again type of cold. You heard your name being called but you couldn’t tell who needed you, their voice was so far away. You were underwater, so deep under you almost couldn’t feel the pain anymore. “(Y/N) stay with me, sweetheart,” the voice begged. There was muffled shouting a very distant screaming, “don’t worry (Y/N) I got you,” ‘Dorian?’ you thought dreamily. The figure above you swam in and out of focus, the darkness of the water crept in. You fought it off as long as you could but it won in the end, you felt yourself get lowered and a warm hand cupped your cheek. “John what did you do?” ‘John? Why is Dorian mad?’ you questioned as you faded into the abyss.

The next time you floated to the surface you heard hushed voices and a hand in yours. It didn’t last long but you no longer felt oppressed or in pain. The weight on your chest has lifted and you drifted away knowing that you were truly safe. Time passed and Christmas was long over, springtime rolled around with little fanfare. The first thing that came back was your sense of touch, it was warm and the surfacing you were lying on was as stiff as an autopsy table. Your heart rate picked up; ‘I can’t be back there!’ your thoughts suddenly screamed. Your hearing flared to life, there was a loud scrape of a chair sliding across the floor. Frantic beeping filled the air, panic settled in your gut. The sound of rushing footsteps caused you to peel your eyes open, “Detective (Y/L/N), can you hear me? You’re in the hospital, everything is alright!” a commanding yet soothing tone broke through your panic. Choking you searched for the voice, a man in a white doctor’s coat stood above you gesturing for a nurse to get on your other side. He unhooked a few things from the thing that was going down your throat, eyes wide you saw Dorian and Valerie Stahl standing anxiously at the foot of your hospital bed. “(Y/N) I need you to cough for me on the count of three,” the doctor said gently his hands on the tube. He counted and you did as you were told and coughed as hard as you could. He swiftly slid the tube from your throat and set it aside on a tray. Introducing himself as doctor Greene he pulled an object from his coat pocket, coughing and gagging you turned your head away from the man as he ran a penlight over your eyes. He was patient with you as you fought him, “I- what-” you stuttered voice horse; a nurse glided over to you holding a pink plastic cup of ice chips. “You’ve been in a medically induced coma for the past five months. The mystery compound you were injected with took a toll on your body,” Doctor Greene hesitated for a second, clearing his throat he looked down at the floor. A pit formed in your stomach, “I’m afraid to tell you that we did everything we could but we couldn’t save your arm. The compound that was given to you had corrupted the tissue and caused a severe infection.” cold dread filled your body and the doctor’s words rang in your ears. You sat frozen for the longest time, you didn’t even notice that the medical staff had left you alone with your friends until Dorian gently took the hand that was still there and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I promise it will all be okay,” Dorian whispered to you as the tears silently fell. Valerie stood on your other side and started running a hand through your hair, “where’s John?” you asked meekly taking notice that he wasn’t there. You wanted him to tell you that everything would be okay and that you’ll walk away from all this better than before, but he was nowhere in sight. Dorian and Valerie looked at each other holding a silent conversation, “I’ll get you some more ice,” Stahl whispered and placed a kiss on your forehead. She left you and Dorian alone, “Dorian…” you whispered eyes wide fearing the worst. Dorian looked down at your attached hands, “John is working, he uh he has been very busy,” he said voice hard. Your brows furrowed, “I-he didn’t,” you whispered your heart cracking at the revelation. The android leaned down and hugged you gently, “I’m sorry (Y/N),” he whispered. He held you until your tears dried; with the promise to visit the next day with Rudy Dorian left you in Valerie Stahl’s care.

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You had been awake for a few weeks and everyone had come to see you at one point or another. Some more than once; well all but one. Dorian was none too happy, he had to watch as you deflated every time someone who wasn’t John came walking through your hospital room door. Things were already hard for you and that fact that someone you cared about couldn’t be bothered. So that night after his visit with you Dorian stormed up to John Kennex’s apartment. Ringing the bell repeatedly until the door flew open; John stood there a bottle of jack in his hand and a deep look of irritation on his face. Dorian shoved past him with a, “you look like shit,” John scoffed taking a swig of the almost empty bottle. “Come right in,” he muttered dryly slamming the door shut. Turning John glared at his partner, “what do you want Dorian?” he asked taking another drink. It was Dorian’s turn to scowl, he snatched the bottle from John’s hands and tossed it right into the trash. The glass shattered with finality, “Dorian!” John shouted outraged, he surged forward but stumbled into the kitchen counter. Blinking the drunken dizziness John glared up at his friend, “You have been an ass these past few months. But now you’re officially a drunken ass,” Dorian said eyes piercing. Kennex scoffed again, “she doesn’t need me. Worse when I’m around anyway,” he said easily figuring out what the DRN was talking about.

Dorian laughed humorously, “get your head out of your ass John it isn’t about you at all! It’s about (Y/N), she was tortured and was in a coma. She lost a part of herself, and I thought you’d be able to help her through it! She’s hurt and confused about why one of her closest friends isn’t there!” he started shouting. John flinched like he’d been slapped, “I know!” he ended up shouting back. “I fucking know! I’m sorry, okay?” Dorian’s fists clenched at his sides, “I’m not the one you need to say sorry to,” he said darkly. Kennex leaned back against the glass that leads to his bedroom and slid down to the floor a deep sadness in his eyes. Dorian took an unneeded deep breath, “John you gotta know that it wasn’t your fault man, none of it was,” he said in a gentler tone crouching next to his friend. It was John’s turn to laugh humorously, “I should have been standing nearby or-” he choked and looked away. “She’s alive and the Ripper is dead. You made sure of that,” Dorian reminded placing a grounding hand on Kennex’s shoulder. “You need to go see her man, it’s tearing both of you up,”

Taking a deep shuddering breath John staggered to his feet, “I uh mean like tomorrow,” Dorian murmured watching as John grabbed his jacket and keys, “you’re driving,” was all the drunken man said tossing the keys to his partner. Shaking his head Dorian followed the man out of his apartment, “We’re stopping to get you some coffee, and maybe a breath mint. Hose you down in the parking lot,” he muttered quietly.

An hour- two cups of coffee, and some deodorant later John stood in the doorway of your hospital room. Your chest rose and fell steadily as you slept; you looked peaceful and he immediately regretted coming at such a late hour. He felt Dorian nudge him forward into the room and heard the door gently close, looking out the window he saw the android talk to the nurses on duty casually. They were glancing over at the closed door with knowing smiles, “Looks like I’ve been a topic of conversation,” John sighed. Looking back over at your sleeping form John shuffled over and sat in the chair by your bedside. He bit his lip when he saw your prosthetic arm draped over your stomach; taking the hand closest to him John gave it a gentle squeeze, “I am so sorry,” he whispered rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I have been the worst friend on the entire planet and you should honestly kick my ass,”

“You’re right, I should kick your ass,” your voice made him jump; looking down he saw that you were giving him a glare. “I’m too tired to kick your ass or even to yell at you,” you said eyes dull and sad. It made Kennex’s stomach clench, “(Y/N) I deserve whatever you decide to do to me, I just-” he cut himself off looking anywhere but your eyes. John gritted his teeth as you waited for what he had to say, “I was afraid.” he whispered finally looking back at you. Sighing you sat up so he knew he had your undivided attention. John cleared his throat, “I was afraid that coming to see you would make it all real, and it-it brought back some things that I didn’t want back. So I ran-metaphorically,” your eyes softened understanding his reasons, “I’m still mad but I forgive you,” you said after a minute. John’s shoulders sagged with relief, his head dropping to the bed by your thigh. “You’re important to me John, I just wish I was important enough to you so you could talk to me,” you whispered sadly running a hand through his hair. Your hand dropped when he snapped his head up, “You’re important to me (Y/N) I just-I’m shit when it comes to-” he gestured wildly, “all of this,”

You laughed quietly, “I promise to never disappear on you again. Expect me to be annoying now, cause I’ll be hovering,” John said with a crooked smile. The smile you gave him in return made his heart skip a beat, “you’re going to be insufferable, I just know it,” you chuckled ruefully. John winked, “of course, I wouldn’t be me if I made things easy,” he squeezed your hand again. “John, can you do something for me?” you asked biting your lip. He perked up, “anything,” he said and you shivered. “Can you get me another blanket? It’s fucking freezing in here,” John was out the door and at the nurse’s station before you could blink. “Oh boy,” you laughed nervously as you watched the man take the offered blanket and rush back to your door.

To be continued…?

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

#almost human on fox #almost human #john kennex #john kennex x reader #reader insert #25 days of ficmas #hailey the queen of typos #oh my god I need therapy #Dorian

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slitherofgold · 5 years ago

Text

Friday Fighting~ Sam Fender

It was Friday night, and you and the girls had decided to go out clubbing to celebrate the end of a horrible, shitty week. Your two best-friends (Grace and Liv) were getting ready round yours, and it was safe to say that pre-drinks had already started. “Who’s ready to get fucking wasteddddd”, Grace sang with a drink in her hand.

“Fucking hell Grace, slow down. I’m not having you drunk before actually going out, and I’m definitely not baby-sitting you the entire night”, you said.

“Chill y/n, let yourself go a bit, have fun. If you get what I mean.” She grinned her cheeky grin and you rolled your eyes in response.

“If you mean go fuck a stranger then that’s definitely not what I had in mind. That’s how people get killed.” Liv, who had been attempting to put on her lashes, turned around to face the two of you.

“Y/n don’t have sex with the first guy you meet, but maybe actually talk to a guy, or I don’t know, dance with someone. You haven’t opened yourself up to anyone since-

“We do not speak his name!!” Grace interrupted before Liv could finish her sentence. You laughed.

“Look guys, I’m over him, I am. It’s just, guys are a waste of time at the moment, and they all turn out to be assholes anyway,” You tried to explain.

“Yeah but what about your sex life, every girl still needs to have her sex life”, Grace said. You looked towards Liv who nodded her head in agreement.

“That’s what a vibrators for. It does the trick and doesn’t emotionally damage you either.”

“Look, I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all, but please let yourself go a bit tonight and just have fun. And try not to blank every guy that comes up to you, at least give em a chance.” Liv stared into your eyes as if waiting for an answer.

“Fineeeee”, you gave in. The two girls applauded and squealed like teenagers, before turning on the music and dancing around the bedroom. You loved nights like this, where you could just let loose of all your problems and act like a child again, singing the words to your favourite songs and dancing as if no one was watching. Maybe the girls were right. Maybe it was time to start meeting new people.

After getting ready, you all left your place and got a taxi to the club. Grace was already a bit tipsy from the drinks back at yours, and you knew for a fact that she’d be passed out, face first, at the end of the night. The cold night air, hit you as soon as you got out the cab, and you wished you had bought some kind of jacket to act as layer over your sexy ass dress, that Liv had let you borrow. You could hear the music from outside, loud and blaring, and you couldn’t wait to sacrifice yourself to the music and let yourself go.

Inside it was a swarm of sweaty, drunk bodies, much like you had anticipated. Without a second thought, Grace swung herself into the crowd, jumping along and dancing to the music, already lost in it. You and Liv followed after her to be quickly engulfed by the crowd.

After a while of screaming lyrics, and grinding your bodies against random strangers, you had decided to go get drinks. You left Liv and Grace out on the dance-floor, not wanting to disrupt their fun, and headed towards the bar. It was fairly busy, and you had to squeeze past a few shoulders to make it through to the front. You waved your hand at the bartender, “Hey, can I get 3 shots of tequila!”, you shouted over the music. He smiled and nodded in return before starting on your drinks. You glanced back towards the dance-floor, and unsurprisingly, Grace and Liv were still there not having noticed you’d gone.

“The music here’s shit, don’t you think?”, you heard someone shout in a geordie accent. You inclined your head towards the voice, to see that the question was directed at you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you took in the stranger. He was hot in such a casual way. Jeans and a t-shit, messy hair, the accent. You were so caught up in how he looked you had forgotten what he said. He laughed, clearly amused. He leaned in closer and repeated the question, his breath warm on your cheek.

“Oh, yeah it’s not my kind of music but at least you can still dance to it. I’ve heard worse anyways.” You smiled back. The bartender tapped your shoulder and you quickly turned having forgotten the drinks. You pulled out your purse ready to pay, when a hand suddenly stopped you.

“Don’t worry, it’s on me.” The stranger smiled at you, and gave the bartender his card before you could intervene. “ 3 shots aye, I’m guessing they’re for you and your mates?”

“ Well, they would be if they were here, but unfortunately they’re still on the dance-floor.” You smiled and pointed towards them. Then as you locked eyes with Liv, you remembered what your friends had said earlier, she grinned at you as if you had spoken telepathically. “Do you wanna, um, share the shots instead, since, well you paid for them, and I don’t think they’re gonna be too bothered. They’re basically already gone.” You stammered, trying to act cool, even though you hadn’t done this in while. As if he could sense your nerves, he smiled, easing your comfort.

“Yeah sounds class that”. He seemed relieved, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that. “I’m Sam by the way”, he put out his hand and you happily shook it.

“Y/n”, you smiled.

“Well it’s nice to meet you y/n”, he seemed genuinely nice and after downing the shots, the two of you were already having a laugh, taking the piss out of people in the club and placing bets on the most random things.

“Do you wanna go someplace quieter, I can barely hear you over this shit”, Sam said. You nodded your head and grabbed his hand, as he led you through the club to a booth towards the back. You glanced at the girls. Grace was beyond drunk and Liv was mildly sober. They were both dancing with guys, who seemed very touchy-feely, but neither of them seemed to mind. Liv caught eyes with you once more and winked. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t withhold your smirk. Liv quickly mouthed ‘be careful’ before turning back towards the guys she was dancing with, losing herself in the music once more.

Once you reached the booth, you slid in close to Sam. He bought more drinks, that you insisted you would pay for, and carried on with your conversation. It was so nice just having some decent flirty banter, that you couldn’t help but feel comfortable with this guy. You were both laughing and talking as if you had been friends for years. Suddenly his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and checked the screen. “Oh shit, sorry I’ve really gotta take this.” He said.

“Nah, nah that’s fine don’t worry”, you insisted. He apologised once more and left the booth in search for a quieter place to have his phone-call. Since being on your own sucked, you pulled out your own phone for some temporary entertainment. You had 8 missed calls and 14 unread messages all from Liv. You opened the messages as quick as you could, panic coursing through you.

Liv: OMG Grace passed out- on the dance floor!!!! Where are you?!

Liv: Y/N WHERE ARE YOU, I CAN’T LEAVE WITHOUT YOU.

Liv: I’ve called a taxi for me and Grace, I gotta get her back home. Please let me know you’re alright??

Liv: I’ll come back for you as soon as Grace is home, are you ok?

Liv: Y/N ANSWER ME!!!!

You quickly typed out a message briefly telling her not to worry, and that you’ll get a taxi back home soon. You also asked about Grace, hoping she was alright. This was often a common occurrence when the 3 of you went out. In fact if Grace didn’t pass out, the night would be classed as shit.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone?” You heard someone say. You looked up from your phone to see a man, maybe in his late 30s, staring down out you.

“Oh, I’m not alone, I’m just waiting for my friend”, you assured the guy. Instead of buggering off, like you hoped he would, he took a seat next to you instead. He made it very clear what his intentions were, you could basically feel his eyes undressing you as he looked you up and down.

“Well, will this friend be long? Cause I think we could kill some time”. He placed his hand on your thigh and slowly moved it up your leg, making you feel sick to the bone. You pushed his hand away from you in disgust.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, wishing that you and Sam had chosen a busier place to sit, rather than somewhere which was remarkably quieter.

“Don’t be like that. You’re basically asking for it in a dress like that.” The guy became a lot more aggressive, and tried to push himself against you, holding your arms to stop you from fighting back.

“Help!!!” You screamed, praying someone would hear. Your legs were trapped under the table, preventing you from trying to kick him in balls. Damn it. You were about to headbutt the guy when you heard a heavy smack, and the weight of the bastard left your body as he fell and hit the table. You looked up seeing Sam, knuckles already bruised and slightly bleeding, with a look of pure rage on his face. He stormed round the table and grabbed the guys collar, lifting him up.

“Get the fuck out of here”, Sam said, the rage seething out with every word. “Or I won’t hesitate to do it again”. He chucked the guy, as if he was worthless, and unsurprisingly the guy ran off in the opposite direction, quickly forgetting you. Once Sam knew the guy had gone and was out of sight, he turned to you and rested a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n are you alright? I knew I shouldn’t of left you. I’m so sorry.” He looked in your eyes, his own filled with concern.

“I’m fine, I’m just glad you got here in time. Fucking dirtbag. Are you alright?” You glanced at where the guy had left, worried he would reemerge, and then focused on Sam’s knuckles, holding them in your own hands.

“Don’t worry about me”, Sam chuckled. “I’m not the one who had filthy fucking hands roaming all over me. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll survive. But I should be getting back home soon, the girls already left and now they’re waiting on me”, you explained the whole situation to Sam.

“Damn that Grace party’s hard” He chuckled. “Do you want me to call you a taxi? After that whole fucking thing, the least I can do is make sure you get home safe.”

“You’ve done enough. The drinks, saving my life. If you do anything else, I’d be indebted to you.” You joked.

“See, that’s what I was hoping. Cause if you were indebted to me, you’d have to give me your number, and then we’d have to meet up, and you’d have to spend even more time with me.” He looked at you and then down at his hands, which you were still holding, and then back up at you again, a smile slowly forming across his face.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to call me a taxi then”

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Hi guys, me again. Sorry this is a super long (for me) imagine and hasn’t really got much fluff in it but hey ho, this is how it turned out :) Sorry if it’s got loads of typos or mistakes, I finished this at 2am and honestly I am ready to pass out on my bed. Anyways hope you enjoyed, and message me for requests or anything you wanna ask/say. Goodnighttttt <3

#sam fender #sam fender imagines #imagines #fluff #sam fender x reader

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percywinchester27 · 5 years ago

Text

About a boy (Part-8)

Word count: 4.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m sorry this part is so delayed. Life got to me in a not so nice way. I will try my best to be better from now on <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“Sometimes I think that some of these kids dye their hair,” Will muttered, kicking a stone out of the way. “There can’t possibly be that many brown haired boys.”

“You have brown hair,” Cas pointed out mildly, feeling sympathetic towards the boy.

“But my name isn’t Sam!” Will exhaled, attacking another stone.

The two of them were walking back from school. Dean had waited back for some extra class, and on the way out Cas had bumped into Will, who had been in a dark, brooding mood. Only now did he know that it was because of an abundance of dark haired boys.

“I feel like I’m disappointing Dean,” Will admitted. “But I swear there isn’t another Sam on the floor, unless some kid is hiding his real name for whatever reason. The only other thing Dean gave me to go by, was that Sam has brown hair. But that is most boys.” His voice was full of despair.

“You’re being harsh on yourself, Will,” Cas soothed, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There isn’t much to go on here and Dean knows that. He isn’t going to be disappointed.”

“I had to do this one thing, and I’m wretched at it,” Will moaned, seemingly not having accepted a word of what Cas had said.

He is used to always having a solution, Cas thought. Will attempted math Olympiads for fun. He was smart enough to fuse out the fire alarm system. He was the sort of boy who was used to getting solutions for his problems, answers for mysteries, and now that he couldn’t figure this one out, it was bothering him. But there was also one other thing. Will was probably used to being self sufficient. He had always made his own bed and clapped his own back. Now, there was Dean.

Cas realised, Will looked upto Dean. The way he hung on to Dean’s every word like it was a gospel. How he glowed when Dean lightly made fun of him, teased him or even called him a dumb-ass. Behind Will’s disappointment was his inherent desire for praise, and not any praise, but Dean’s praise.

Cas felt a deep pang in his stomach, a swell of empathy. He had seen so many kids yearn for attention, for a drop of love in this place where everyone was lonely together. Will was no different. He’d never had anyone to appreciate his intellect. Lots of parents would have sold their souls for a prodigal child like Will. But here he was looking for acceptance from a boy who was looking for something else, someone else.

With a heavy heart, he said, “We’ll keep looking, Will. We’ll find Sam.”

The boy looked up, hazel eyes round, the question in them clear as the day. Who is Sam? But he didn’t ask. Maybe something about Cas’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his secret to tell anyway. Besides, he had no business dragging a kid into this. Especially a kid residing on the 4th floor. Cas shuddered.

Will cast another look, but didn’t talk for the rest of the way back.

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

“Damn it!” Dean cursed as he stumbled over a rough patch of land. It had been three days since the fire alarm incidence and he could only barely manage to walk by himself. Of course today had to be the day when the calculus teacher extended the class. Ordinarily, Dean would have ditched in favor of having a steady support in Cas to walk back, but he paid attention in calculus. After all, he had promised to help Will out with it. So much for that crazy kid’s expedition to champion math! Which was why Dean took meticulous notes and for that, he had to wait back.

Apart from having to stumble all the way back, Dean didn’t really mind walking alone. Cas had been hovering over protectively over Dean at all times, worrying that if he was left alone, Michael’s goons might ambush him and finish what they started that night. As it turned out, Cas needn’t have worried at all. All his fears had been put to rest when the Principal had called Dean and Cas and asked about their bruises. Apparently, the nurse had made a formal request to the principal to look into the matter. Dean hadn’t given names, but the word got out and the said gang of goons started skirting him. It had still taken a quarter hours reassurance to get Cas to leave without him.

Now his legs ached, his lungs screamed in protest. I’m experiencing old age at fifteen, Dean thought wryly as he pushed the gate of bell stone open. He heard the voices before the scene around the corner met his eyes.

A woman’s voice was echoing in the yard, high and poignant and authoritative. The familiarity and hope of just seeing someone he knew had Dean running despite the pain shooting up his foot. He wasn’t wrong.

There she was standing tall and thin, with short brown hair, and the sheriffs uniform crisply cutting a formidable figure before him. Even though her back was to him, Dean knew it was her.

Jody.

He started rushing towards her, then abruptly stopped, the realisation hitting him like a block of ice. No one knew that he knew Jody. He couldn’t just barge in like that and blow his cover and their plan. The sight of her induced such homesickness, Dean staggered to the tree next to him, falling back against it for support. He felt like his legs might give out anytime.

Even if he did meet her, what was he going to tell her? He’d made no progress when it came to the Stynes. Jody had put all her trust in him, risked arguments with authoritative people to get him in and he had nothing for her. He had no clue about where all the kids were disappearing off to. Shame and guilt flared up inside him and he lowered himself on the ground, disappearing completely from her line of vision.

He had disappointed her.

“Officer,” someone cleared his throat. Dean recognised Andy. He sounded uncomfortable and scared. “It wasn’t really my fault, you see.”

“Not your fault?” Jody thundered. “Locking up kids like that on floors? And don’t you lie to me, I saw the grills myself.”

“They’re old, rusted and just there, doesn’t mean we use them,” Andy stuttered. He was much taller than Jody, but right now she seemed to tower over him.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I rolled one of those down, and for iron so rusted, it sure slid down smoothly.”

Despite the reeling shame, Dean wanted to whoop out loud. Jody was one of the smartest people he knew, and badass. Andy was in for it.

“We searched the whole place thoroughly, and those kids live in horrible conditions,” she said. “This place is a living hazard. You call it a boys home?” And what of the left wing?” she pressed, disgusted.

Dean dared to raise his head above the shrubbery just a little bit to peer into the opening. Jody was standing along with two other police officers, all of them in uniform. Andy was just a few feet away, visibly displaced, and Garth was hovering in the background, for apparently no other reason than to provide staff support to Andy. Garth seemed disinterested in the exchange and was fiddling with the dials on his walkman.

“The left wing is not in my jurisdiction. It’s always locked up. It doesn’t belong to the orphanage.” Andy’s voice was reedy.

Jody put her hands on her hips. “Really?” There was a dangerous edge to her tone. “And you don’t have the keys.”

“No,” Andy lied through his teeth. That asshole.

If Dean had had any reservations about whether or not Andy knew what was up in this place, they were shattered right then and there. He was in this with the Stynes.

Jody turned to the police officer next to her. “Alright, Andrew, we’re breaking in.”

“Do you have a warrant to search the place?” Andy questioned. Dean swore under his breath. This man actually had the audacity to act superior. Dean tried to raise his head further to get a better view, to see the expression on Jody’s face. His foot slipped and fell back on the ground with a crash.

“Who’s there?” Andy said sharply.

“Shit!”

“Get up,” Jody ordered, and Dean, after muttering a few more choice words, staggered to his feet and raised his hands. “It’s me.”

Andy’s face turned red, the suppressed anger making its appearance. “Winchester!” he bellowed, “What the f-... hell are you doing there?”

“I-I fell down,” he said hurriedly. “Was coming back from school.”

“From behind the bush?” It was Jody. “Higgs, what’s this boy doing here?”

Dean noted with detachment that he’d actually never known what Andy’s last name was. He avoided meeting Jody’s gaze.

“Look up!” Jody ordered, and Dean did so; slowly.

It was there for a split second, but Dean saw it in her brown eyes as they widened. A complex emotion; a mixture of relief, tenderness, pain�� and then horror… anger.

“Higgs.” Jody’s voice was low, but it was so full of anger, loathing, that Dean backpedalled. “What the hell,” she said, seething, “happened to his face?”

Andy looked at Dean properly for the first time and paled. The angry red patches on his cheeks disappeared quickly. “I-I don’t know,” he said, running a hand across his face nervously. “You know how they get sometimes. Boys will be boys.”

But Jody was having none of Andy’s shit. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to her level. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drag your ass back to the station for allowing child abuse.” She looked dangerous, and Dean truly understood why everyone with ill-intent back home ran in the opposite direction when they saw her car.

Dean knew she couldn’t actually haul Andy to the station. This wasn’t her area of jurisdiction. This was just part of her case. And even if she could get the local PD to do this, it threatened their whole operation. Sniffing police interference, the Stynes might completely move their base. Children would keep disappearing and Dean would lose his only chance of finding Sam.

Andy stammered a mumbled explanation as Jody pushed him roughly. Dean didn’t hear a word of what Andy was saying, for Jody had turned to look at him, and Dean braced himself for the disappointment in them. Not only had he failed her so far in the operation, he’d managed to get his ass kicked spectacularly, too. In fact, his bruises were better now, light purple to yellow in some parts and the swelling almost gone in others.

When Dean looked up, Jody had squared her shoulders to face only him. Her eyes were blazing, though not with dismay or any hint of let down. There was only regret and pain there and so much worry that Dean felt he would drown in it.

He was reeling. Suddenly he was standing in the front space of Bobby’s house, Jody looking down at him not with anger but worry when he’d first rigged a car. The day when he’d caught Bobby and her sitting on the porch steps and how hastily she had withdrawn her hand from Bobby’s when she’d seen Dean walk towards. He remembered the sun light squinting off the wooden table and how she had been nervously running her fingers along the edge of the table when Bobby told him they were seeing each other. Jody who was never nervous, only scary, had cared about what Dean, who wasn’t even Bobby’s son, had to say about their relationship.

Dean remembered all the times she had driven by early so she could drop Dean off at school when Bobby was out of town. he had hated being driven around in the sheriff’s car. It was like announcing ‘don’t be friends with me, I know the sheriff.’ He’d barely ever spoken a word to her then. Suddenly there had been casseroles on holidays and real food on the table on Sunday mornings, instead of whatever mix Bobby put on the table in his hungover state.

All the sneaking around, whispers that were quieted too quickly so it wouldn’t make Dean awkward. The hope in her eyes when he sipped the coffee that she had made on mornings that she’d stayed over. She would almost always get it wrong by adding sugar, when Dean liked his black. Only now, after he had lived in this hell hole, did he realise the sort of luxury he’d had. He was no different from all the boys living in the orphanage. His parents were as dead and cold in their graves as the others’. But unlike them, he’d always had a room of his own, no worry where his next meal came from. He’d had gruff ‘good mornings’ from Bobby and shenanigans in his garage. And unexpectedly, softness from a woman who made her living by being firm.

Tears burned at the back of Dean’s throat and he blinked rapidly, still unable to take his eyes off of hers. Of course there would be no disappointment in those eyes… only care and… love. Jody’s eyes shone with unshed tears of her own, and he could see her desperately trying to get a grip.

“I got punched at school,” Dean said through a thick throat. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” He fervently hoped that behind his words, she heard what he truly wanted to say. It wasn’t your fault, Jody. None of this is. Please don’t pull me out of here. For the both of us.

She had wanted this one win in that male dominated department where she was better by ten times than any idiot. And he wanted… no, he needed to find Sam. He stared intently back at her, willing her to understand. At long last, she nodded. A quick jerk of her chin.

“Alright,” she said hoarsely. Dean hoped that the others interpreted it as anger. “Get going then. Next time I hear of you breaking into fights, I’ll admit you to a juvie myself. You get that?”

Dean nodded.

“Off you go,” she ordered in what was supposed to be a stern voice. Then, she very deliberately raised her hand, as if to shoo him off, and pointed it to the side of the orphanage. Even though the main door was right in front. Something glinted off her finger as it caught the Sun, and Dean caught his breath. It was a thin gold band, plain but solid, resting on the second finger.

He had to bite his lips so as to not betray a reaction.

She widened her eyes. GO.

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the side she had pointed towards, completely bypassing the main door. In the distance he could hear Jody ordering Andy and the others off towards the left wing, even if just for the heck of it. Leading them away, he realised, away from him.

He increased his pace and turned around the corner. Dean rarely visited this part of the ground. Mostly because there was an old barnhouse there that totally creeped him out. Once upon a time, when the orphanage hadn’t actually been an orphanage but a handsome, inhabited manor, the barhouse used to house actual animals- poultry, horses and pigs. Now it was just as dilapidated as the manor house if not more. The timber girders were sagging under the dead load of the disrupted roof. The planks that made up the walls had been eaten into by termites, and cobwebs adorned the facade extensively. Of course it gave Dean the creepers. Of course he’d never even been slightly tempted to go in. But as he inspected the barren building, he noticed, to his surprise, that the door was ajar.

Dean knew the barn-house was used as a storage for things so old that even the Orphanage didn’t want it inside, which was saying something. Dean and Cas often joked that the only use it would be would be if they used it as kindling and set it on fire. At least one night wouldn’t be so cold anymore. The trepidation he felt as he stepped inside the threshold now, was very real.

Inside, everything was at least five times dustier than what he thought it would be. And so much darker. Silhouetted against the broken furniture and wardrobes was a man. He was wearing plaid underneath a thick flannel jacket and a baseball cap. Scruffy beard covered his face. A face with all too many frown lines, but laugh lines around his eyes. A face that was more familiar to Dean than any other.

Before he knew it, Dean was bounding forwards till his face was pressed against the soft cotton of the man’s shirt.

“Bobby!” Dean let out a strangled dry sob.

It was too much. The weeks and weeks of living in this hell house, the constant fear for Sam, of not finding Sam, all came crashing down. Then there was that other feeling, one that almost made him feel ashamed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was a feeling of… belonging. But how could he belong to this place? He hated every brick of the orphanage. A place that caged children. His Sam... Cas and Will. Maybe the belonging wasn’t with the place… but with the people.

“Hush,” Bobby said gruffly, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean noticed that his voice was thicker than usual. Bobby cleared his throat. “It’s alright, my boy.”

Dean didn’t want to let go of Bobby. Not just because he had missed Bobby terribly, but because he’d never actually ever hugged Bobby like this. He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled back.

When he did, there was only fierceness in Bobby’s eyes. Fierceness and fear. Not unlike Dean’s own fear for his brother and friends. A disjointed part of his mind wondered if love and fear were always this connected. And how it had taken him a trip to this goddamn place to feel both of those emotions so viscerally.

Bobby was still looking down at him, his lashes were wet. Dean had to look away.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I heard about the fire from Jody. I-I was worried.” he hesitated, then added. “I needed to know that you were fine. I know you’re… well, you’re scared of fire.”

Dean had never said it, but Bobby was there in the early days when Dean even flinched from the stove fire.

That still didn’t answer the question.

“I mean, what’re you doing here?” Dean gestured to the out house.

Bobby cleared his throat once more. “Sneaked in. Had to see you. I had to beg with Jody so I could tag along. Her only condition- no one could see me.”

“Jody!” Dean suddenly remembered, then threw a finger towards Bobby. “You’re getting married?”

Bobby shuffled from one foot to another, almost looking nervous. “Yeah. I had that ring made for a while now, since before you left. And I meant to ask you before asking her… but she found it in the back pocket of my pants and well, the damn cat was out of the bag.”

Dean stared.

Romantic proposal was one thing. He hadn’t really expected Bobby to put on fairy lights around the house and fill the front yard with rose petals, but the proposal could have been more than her accidentally stumbling upon the ring. Dean wanted to shake his head indulgently at Bobby’s complete and utter lack of romantic timing. Maybe Jody liked that sort of spontaneous thing. Who knew?

There was something in Bobby’s words that stopped Dean from acting upon his amusement.

“You said you wanted to ask me?” Dean asked flatly.

Bobby looked even more nervous if that was possible. “It is your home, Dean. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you.” He looked at Dean with a worried expression.

This time Dean really did shake his head. “Bobby, you crazy old man,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’m happy for you. Jody is a badass.”

Bobby’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “She wanted you to know, too. Said it didn’t count as engagement if you weren’t in on it.”

The tears had just subsided, but Dean’s throat burned with them again.

“Bobby,” he said, his voice rough. “You getting married to Jody would be the best damn thing to happen to our home.”

Bobby beamed. His whole face lit up, and for a second Dean could almost feel the homely warmth of Bobby’s kitchen in the cold, dusty barnhouse. Then Bobby’s smile slid.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” Bobby asked, his face screwing up in his classic frown. He always tried to look annoyed when he was feeling something, Dean remembered fondly. “Come home. The place feels just like an empty car dump without you annoying my gourd,” he said pointing to his head.

Dean wanted to smile at Bobby’s attempt to lighten the tone, though it didn’t take a keen eye to see the wetness of his lashes, hear the gruffness of his voice.

“Sam…” Dean started.

“Sam’s… Sam’s a ghost story, Dean!” Bobby almost gasped, as if he’d tried too hard to not say those words, but they had escaped him anyway. Dean’s heart seemed to crack just a bit. He could see that Bobby loved him. Like his own son. But for Bobby, Sam was still his friend’s son, who was lost. He had no connection to Sam whatsoever.

All these years, through hot grizzly afternoons and through cold shivery winter nights, that blood bond was what had kept Dean awake, picturing horrors that might have been happening to his brother who was still out there somewhere. Who knew? Maybe waiting for his older brother. Dean had held on to it, steadfast, never giving up. But somewhere through the years, Bobby had.

Dean didn’t begrudge Bobby the non-attachment, but if only he understood that finding Sam was the purpose of life for Dean, especially now that there was a ray of hope, now that he was so close to discovering the truth.

Perhaps Bobby understood too well, because he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” His eyes roved over Dean’s face. “Look at all of his,” he gestured vaguely at the bruises.

“It’s nothing, Bobby,”

“Exactly!” Bobby pointed out. “It could get so much worse.” But something about Dean’s look made Bobby’s shoulders slump. It was clear that Dean wasn’t going to give up on this.

With a resigned gesture of his arms, Bobby turned around and produced a wooden box from behind. The box wasn’t ornate but, the rosewood exterior had a pristine quality to it, as if the box had been in existence since a long, long time.

“Here.” Bobby’s voice was heavy, and his eyes had that look… the one that made him look older than he was. “Take it.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the rough exterior of the dark wood.

Bobby didn’t answer, and Dean clicked the lock on it. The lid opened easily enough. Inside was a collection of mismatched things. There was a small knife, a little charm bracelet, a figurine of a peaceful looking baby angel and among other things a bundle of photos. Images after images of his family… of faces that he was afraid he was beginning to forget. Photographs from his parents' wedding, in front of their lawn, from his childhood, dad hugging mom in front of a sleek black car.

“Your dad loved that thing,” Bobby murmured, but Dean barely paid attention. He was hungrily flipping through the bundle, his hands shaking. At the very end, there were pictures of a small baby, clicked in a series. Small chubby hands held out, rosy cheeks, light brown hair and a laugh that seemed to reach out of the picture itself.

Dean didn’t know whether to simply keep looking at the picture- because at this point his eyes were simply devouring it- or shut the box, just so he could control his feelings, get a grip on his wildly failing heart.

“Where?” he stammered, shutting the box as the later instinct won. “Where did you find these?” Even to his own ears, Dean’s voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve always had them,” Bobby said, then gauging Dean’s outrage quickly added, “I wanted you to move on, Dean. When you first came to live with me, you didn’t talk for half a year. It was like living with a shadow. I didn’t want you to get lost in the past and never resurface from whatever goddamned dark depth you had fallen into. And then when you started talking, and it looked like you were finally going to get a childhood, I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a false hope.”

“So you never gave these to me?” Dean glared. He could feel the blood rising to his face, his fingers balling into fists.

Bobby squared his shoulders. “Damn right I never gave you those. And I won’t feel sorry for hoping that you’d give up on the crazy mission to find Sam. You were just a kid, Dean. You still are, and from what I knew, I truly believed Sam was lost.” His voice cracked.

Just like that Dean felt all the anger leave him, his body deflating. Suddenly he felt tired, bone weary. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto a dusty trunk. What was the point of being mad? It was not like Bobby had kept his childhood from him. Dean still had his mother’s picture by the side of his bed. His dad’s first sawed off and baseball glove on the wall. He’d always had mementos to remember his parents by. The only things new were Sam’s pictures. And what was even the point in blaming Bobby. All he wanted was to help Dean. Besides, Bobby had left no stone unturned in his time to find Sam.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” Dean asked, head bent low, all energy simply draining out of him.

Bobby lowered himself to Dean’s level, hand back on his shoulders, “Because now it might actually help you.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He flung his arms around Bobby once more. This was more hugging than maybe all of their time together, but Dean simply didn’t care. “I can’t wait to be back,” he admitted, his voice muffled against Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby chuckled dryly. “Can’t wait to have you back either, kid.”

After a moment he let go, patting Dean’s back in quick succession. “You still remember about the pager, right?”

Dean nodded, now slightly awkward. “I’ll send out a flare if there is ever an emergency.” Secretly Dean knew he wasn’t going to do it until he found Sam because that would mean an immediate rescue and permanent goodbye to this place.

Bobby gave him one more hard look, then nodded and walked out of the barnhouse. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

Dean knew that they couldn’t have left together, too much risk, so he waited for a few minutes, then slipped out, too, the box clutched tightly in his hands. He felt both lighthearted and also awfully homesick at the same time. So lost was he in his own feelings that he never noticed the shadow move from the side of the barnhouse where it had been lodged for a while now, and come face to face with him.

Dean ran headfirst into the wall of black, then staggered backwards.

“Benny!” he said, surprised as he looked into the shadowed face.

Benny’s face looked impassive, his eyes however were narrowed. “That police woman looked like she wanted to smother you in hugs.Your old man looks pretty solid and caring and alive. Care to tell me who is this Sam you’re looking for, Winchester?”

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

A/N 2: Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

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workitholland · 6 years ago

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Cat & Mouse Game | Tom Holland Mob AU | Chapter 1

Everyone in London knew that there were two people who were to be feared by everyone. Tom Holland, and Y/N Y/L/N. Leaders of the East and West side mobs. Two people you wouldn’t want to find yourself involved with. Y/N took pride in her empire, as did Tom. Y/N built the West side up from nothing, and Tom was given everything from his father. They come from two different sides of the spectrum in every way possible, yet they’re both after the same thing. They were both after the money, any bit they could get their hands on, no matter how they had to get it.

Black Louboutin’s clicked on the crumbled pavement as the door to the sleek black Rolls Royce is opened. She exited the car, standing with a confidence to her that could leave any person weak at the knees. Two huge men accompanied her on both sides, both dressed to the nines in all black. She throws a cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the flame with her designer stilettos. With a small gesture of her hand, she began towards the boarded up brick building in front of her.

The two men walk ahead of her, peeking inside to make sure the coast was clear. Before they could alert her of any danger, she had pushed the door open, two guns held in her hands as she shoots the two guards in the thighs, making them fall to the ground with agonizing yelps of pain. She struts in, making her way to the huge door at the other side of the room. “C’mon boys.” She calls, the men appearing back at her side. As they reach the door, she gently presses her ear against the surface. Muffled voices came from the other side, but there was no way to make out what they were saying.

On a limb, she pushes the door open slowly, peeking in to see him. He stood there at his desk, his fists balled at his side, chocolate curls framing his face perfectly. Beside him stood the blonde, and upon further investigation of the room, she noticed a man cuffed to a metal chair. He was battered and bloody, shifting in and out of consciousness. The two conscious men seemed to be talking about the almost lifeless man in front of them, and she saw no better time than now to make her entrance.

“Thomas Stanley Holland, Leader of the East Side Mob, Billionaire, Playboy.” You stated, gun in hand, pointing at the brunette. A smirk rose to his lips, his arms crossing. “Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, Leader of the West Side Mob, Reckless Vixen.” You push your red lips together into a straight line when he pulls a gun and points it at you, mimicking your actions. “Don’t be so hostile, baby.” Tom says, voice dripping in poison. You roll your eyes, pulling your black shades off to reveal your Y/E/C eyes.

“What are you doing here, Y/L/N?” He asks, slowly moving from behind his desk, making his way towards your figure. You met him half way, gun pointing at the underside of his chin. “You know why, Holland. Same reason you are. You just happened to get in my way.” You seethe, grasping the collar of his blood splattered white shirt. The action makes him release a chuckle. “Oh sweetheart, this little act you’ve got going on? It’s real cute.” He pauses, leaning down to your ear. “Knock that shit off, and leave. The money is mine.”

You scoff at his words, lowering your gun. “In your dreams, Holland.” You spit. “The money isn’t here.” Harrison said in a low voice, making your attention turn towards him. You slowly stalk over, placing your hands on his chest, running your hands along the fabric of his shirt until your fingers hook in his belt loops. “Oh, I know it’s not here. I just wanted to meet my competition and make my impression.” You say teasingly in his ear, biting down on the soft skin of his lobe. As quickly as he sucks in a breath, you were gone.

“He’s the strongest out there, Y/N! There’s no way!” Val, your right hand man says, his hands firmly on your desk. “Val, sweetheart,” You start, kicking your heels onto your desk, taking a swig of your drink. “It’s not as complicated as you’re making it out to be.” Val cocks his head to the side, sitting in a chair opposite you. “You’re on his radar now, after that stunt you pulled, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s already got this place bugged!” You let out a small chuckle. “He’d never be able to find this place.”

You stand up from your place behind your desk, moving towards the window on your left. You close your eyes and take in the sunshine. “I have an advantage, Val. It’s called human instinct. I’m going to do all I can to make this man fall for me. He’s gonna fall so hard, he’ll let his guard down completely, and then his empire is practically in the palm of my hands.” You put your hand against the window pane, looking out at the water of the lake. “And it’ll all start tonight.”

“Y/N, you can’t make a scene tonight! There’s going to be so many potential clients!” Val says, throwing his hands up in defense. You spin on your heels. “Who said anything about making a scene?” You smirk confidently, taking quick strides out of your office towards the master bedroom. You flick the lights on in your walk in closet, rummaging through your dresses that range from mildly expensive to more expensive than a car. You smirk to yourself when your hands feel the fabric of your favorite red dress.

“Val! Is the car out front?” You call, getting a quick ‘yup’ in response. You quickly finish up on your stunning makeup, then slip your heels on and begin your trek towards the car. As soon as you slide in the back next to Val, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. “This isn’t making a scene?” He questions, referring to your blood red dress that had a slit on the leg that just barely reached your panties, matching red pumps, but most importantly, your painted red lips and dramatic smokey eye. Your curls frame your face so perfectly, you could very easily been mistaken for a goddess.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s business, darling.” You say reassuringly, crossing your legs with a sly smile. As soon as the car pulls up, you slide out quickly, rushing inside to avoid any bad media coverage. As soon as your eyes scan the room that held an astonishing amount of people, your confident and cocky attitude returned. You stalked over to an unoccupied table, grabbing a flute of champagne on your way. You sip it quietly, watching all the bodies flood the room.

“Excuse me miss.” You hear from your left, making you turn your head. You’re met with the eyes of a waiter. “Would you like another?” He refers to your flute, and you nod gratefully as he hands one to you. “Thank you, sir.” You mentally curse yourself for being so jumpy. “Looks like you were expecting someone, huh?” The velvety voice whispers in your ear. Turning your head towards the source, you’re met with chocolate brown eyes and slicked hair.

“Thomas.” You greet, taking another sip from your flute. You pat the seat next to you, and he takes the invitation, his eyes running up and down your body. You smirk to yourself, moving your leg in just the right way to make the slit of your dress fall open, revealing your leg. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, baby.” You say, flicking a wink his way. “I’m here strictly for business, Y/N.” He says calmly, straightening his posture. “As am I.” You retort, gulping down your champagne.

“Dance with me.” You blurt out, making him cock his eyebrow. “So we can talk business.” You smirk, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the dance floor. “Now usually my dancing would be more suitable for a club, so you’re gonna have to teach me.” You tease, forcing your body close to his as he wraps his arm around your lower back. He takes your hand in his and begins leading you around the dance floor.

“Now, business.” You say, looking up into his eyes. “I have a proposal.” He says, making you smile. “So soon?” Your response makes him chuckle, shaking his head. “Business proposal, Y/N. The way you ambushed me while I was with a client, if you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. I should’ve killed you.” Your mouth drops open, bringing your hand to your heart. “I’m hurt, Tommy.” He noticeably tenses at your nickname.

“Now, I wanted to try this first before we have to spill blood. Give up the West Side.” You laugh at his lame attempt. “Really? You think just telling me to give it up will have me handing over my empire? That’s cute.” Tom bites his lip and sucks in a breath. “You didn’t let me finish, Give up the West Side, and we won’t touch Ella.” Your motions halt at the mention of your little sister. Your eyes darken, but you continue dancing. “Don’t you fucking dare.” You seethe, nails practically digging holes into his hand.

“She’s okay, for now.” He smirks, and you almost forget your entire plan. “Isn’t there anything else I can do? I’ll do anything..” You let the words slip out in a seductive tone, which catches his attention. “Nothing. G-give up the West Side.” His words falter slightly, making you smirk. “I think there is something I can do..” You let your hand slip down his chest, biting your lip as you feel his toned chest under his button up top.

He pushes your hand off, trying to stay strictly business. “Fine. There is one thing.” He says, getting close to your ear. “Pay up.” He whispers, placing a small kiss onto your neck. “I’m not giving you money, Holland.” You snap, making him elicit a small chuckle. “Y/N, it’s the only way..” He smirks. “How much?” You say faintly, your confidence slowly slipping from you. “Oh, let’s see.. Ten thousand.” “Done.” You say, not wanting to argue with his low price. “It’ll be done by morning.” His eyes soften and you tense as he places a small kiss to your forehead. “Pleasure doing business with you, Y/N.”

He leaves you in the middle of the floor, dazed and confused. There’s no way you could transfer that money.. right? Wrong. Ella’s life is in danger, and you promised your mother to never bring your family into your business. You pull out your phone, texting Val to meet you out front and to call the limo. As you make your way outside, the cool breeze hits you in the face like a ton of bricks. You turn your head and see Val with his arm extended towards you. You take his arm graciously, careful not to trip as you find yourself at the car.

“Ten thousand to Thomas.” You say cooly as you slide in the back seat. “What?” Val cocks his head to the side, taking in your stone cold manner. “You heard me.” You reply, crossing your arms, sitting back in the seat. “Why?” He asks, turning his body towards you. “He threatened my family, okay? I promised not to bring them into this shit, so just transfer the fucking money!” You snap, slamming your hands down onto your thighs.

“How the hell did he find out about Ella?” You say to yourself, leaning back in your chair. “Of course, he can know anything he wants, he’s a fucking amazing mob boss!” You groan, letting your hands fall to your sides. Never have you ever been so stumped as to what to do about someone. Of course, you’re both after the money that comes with running both the East and West side. The amount of clients with both sides would bring in enough money to have your future generations set for life, that is if you had anything that even moderately resembled a love life.

Tom though, he probably has a new girl everyday. Girls practically throw themselves at his feet, it’s repulsive. Just then, an idea pops into your head. “Val!” You yell, pulling your phone out of your pocket. He runs in, stopping against the door frame. “Yes, your majesty?” He jokes, and you flip him off. “I need Harrison’s number.” He chuckles at your request, leaving the room. He returns a moment later with a small piece of paper in hand, and upon further investigation of the paper, you notice a phone number scribbled onto it. “This is why you’re my right hand man.” You smile to yourself.

“Hello?” The voice of Tom’s best mate rings in your ear for a moment before you can manage to say something. “Harrison, so nice to talk to you again!” You say, over exaggerating your enthusiasm. “Who’s this?” He asks quizzically. “Forget me so soon? I’m heartbroken!” “Y/N.” You smirk to yourself. “You got it, handsome. Now, do me a favor and give me Tommy boys number.” He lets out a low chuckle, sighing into the phone. “Y/N, I would never give you his number.” “Oh yeah? Not even if I were to send someone after your sister? Maybe I’ll send Val! You remember him, right? Tall, muscular, probably could snap her like a twig?” It was your turn to laugh.

“You’re sick.” He spits. “Oh darling, you don’t mean that. Just give me the number and your sister will be just fine.” Harrison sighs on the other line. “You’re gonna cost me my job.” He reads off the number, and you smile to yourself. “Thanks handsome, you’ll be seeing more of me real soon.” You tease, making a kissy noise through the phone. “Can’t wait.” He replies through gritted teeth before hanging up the phone.

“Tom!” Harrison calls, rushing into Tom’s office. “What’s gotten into you, Haz?” “Y/N.” He replies breathily. “She’s gonna be-“ The sound of Tom’s phone ringing cut him off. “Unknown number..” Tom says to himself, but answers it regardless. “Hello?” He asks, his accent prominent. “Hi Darling..” You coo, and Tom sends a look over towards Harrison, who’s hands were up in defense. “How’d you get my number.” “Why don’t you ask your best mate? But listen. I’ve got my own proposal.” Tom motions for Harrison to leave the room, then let’s out a breath. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at each other’s throats for this money. I know neither of us like to share, but if we put our businesses together, our money would double.” Tom raises an eyebrow, then adjusts his tie. “What are you proposing?” You let out a chuckle. “You can’t be that stupid, Holland. I’m proposing that we work together. Unite the East and West Sides.” Tom scoffs. “Never in a million years would I have you as my partner, you’d just slow me down!” It was your turn to scoff at his words.

“Really? I’m a mob boss, just like you. You don’t think i’m where I am for a reason?” “I do, I just don’t think you’re as powerful as me, don’t get me wrong darling, you’re probably a great fighter, but you’re nothing compared to me. I would just be pulling your weight.” As his words flowed, the anger did as well. You were practically red and steaming. “We’ll see about that.” Slamming the phone down onto your desk, you end the call.

“Val, I’ll be okay. I’m just going to get coffee!” You exclaim, putting on your leather jacket and heading out, much to Val’s dismay. London was quite beautiful in the fall, the leaves make everything gorgeous. Oranges, yellows, browns, colors most people have decided to be ugly, but you found them just gorgeous. The sound of leaves crunching under your boots as you walked sent a wave of happiness through your body, making you kick the leaves. You’re quickly filled with nostalgia of your childhood and smile.

You’re met soon with something firm, and almost fall onto the ground, but catch yourself. “Looks like you were having some fun there.” You knew who it was before you even looked up. “Are you stalking me now, Thomas?” You cross your arms, sticking your hip out. “If that’s what you’d like to think.” He smirks. “I thought you were always badass and stone cold?” You shrug your shoulders. “What can I say? I love the fall.” Your words make a genuine smile appear on his face.

“What’s this? Tom Holland smiles?” You tease, making him immediately go straight faced. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shake your head, then go back to your poker face. “Change your mind about my proposal?” You ask, your eyes looking everywhere but his. He shakes his head. “And I won’t. You’d just be dead weight.” The words make something inside you click, and suddenly he’s pinned onto the ground underneath your body. You wrap your hand around his throat, bringing your face close to his.

“Looks like id be the one carrying your weight.” You whisper, getting off of him and continuing your trek to the coffee shop. Tom lays there in the grass, eyes trained on your figure. “God damn.. maybe I do need her.” Tom stands up quickly, fixing his appearance and running towards you. “Y/N!” He calls, placing his hand on your shoulder to turn you around. “I change my mind.”

TAGS: @why-am-i-here-again-shitheads

@pieceofshir

@wyyattsoleff

@smexylemony

@starkravingparker

@fxxthlyxx

@kayaaaa

@tinyspiderling

@untainted-memories

@fangirlbitch02

@casualprincess77

@theawkwardbutterfly

@upsidedownparker

@love-bean

@smol-totoro

@inmultiplefandoms

@tmrhollandkay

@sarah-moss2015

@errorloadinghappiness

@spaceodd-ty

@sorceressandy

@amsterdaryl

@ilovestarwholock218

@love-joeyy

@self-polarized

@gracethegeek9902

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years ago

Text

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 3~

|| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ||

Image Credit: Pictures not mine obviously, but the collage is.

Rating: NSFW-18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

A/N: Don’t hate me for this one XD It’s a little bit of a cliffy. But I’ll try and have the next chapter up soon!

|| Masterlist ||

It was late afternoon when Chibs made his way into the Clubhouse for a cold drink. It had been a slow day at the garage, and what little Club business needed taken care of for the day, had already been dealt with. He was bored to say the least. Teagan and Gemma had returned from shopping hours ago, but he hadn’t seen either of them since. Until he sat down at the bar that is.

Teagan was behind the bar, slinging drinks to the few people who currently occupied it. Her dark hair was tied back; simple black liner and mascara rimmed her emerald orbs. Making them twice as intense. She also still worn his shirt, though it was tied up now — crop-top style — with the sleeves tucked up inside the shirt. A pair of low-rise jeans hugged her hips perfectly, making it incredibly hard not to let his eyes wander over her figure. Drawing his attention immediately to the intricate workings of a very large tribal tattoo that spread down her left side and across her hip.

“What can I get ya, Scotty?” She smirked, leaning against the bar towards him now that her other customers were taken care of. Chibs returned the grin, tapping one of his rings against the bar in thought.

“Whiskey.” He replied.

“On the rocks?”

“Yes ma’am.” Chibs nodded as he made him self comfortable, watching as she scanned the shelves for a moment before grabbing a bottle of Johnnie Walker - Red Label, snatching up a rocks glass and pouring; adding a few ice cubes to it before setting in front of him on a small bar napkin.

“It’s like ye’r a mind reader.” He exclaimed sarcastically with a grin before taking a swig.

“Well, I assumed Scottish...cause ya know.” She gestured to him with a playful smile.

“W’ell, ye assumed righ’.” He smiled, tipping his glass and clinking it gently against the beer bottle she picked up. “Ye’r a natural, Lass. Who put ye behin’ the bar, anyway?” He inquired curiously, cocking a brow at her.

“Gemma asked if I could cover for Half-Sack for a bit...I don’t know. Something about a glass ball or something or other...I don’t think I even wanna know.” She replied, shaking her head with a mildly disturbed expression. Chibs almost choked on his drink.

“Nay, Lass.” He chuckled. “Ye most certainly don’...but on a high note, ye’r a far better bartender than ole’ Half-Sack!”

“You sure it’s not just ‘cause I’ve got tits and a nice face?” She cocked her hip out to the side with a playful glare as she crossed her arms, Chibs grinning in return. She had a fine sense of humor, he’d give her that.

“I’m offended ye would even’ think such’a thing! ... Ye’ve got a nice arse too.” He feigned mock hurt, his tone teasing before dissolving into laughter as Teagan picked up the bar towel and threw it at him. “Really though.” Chibs smiled as he handed the bar towel back to her.

“Ye make a fine barkeep.”

“Well, experience helps...” She mused, leaning against the bar again. Close enough this time that his heart skipped a beat inside his chest as he held her gaze. “I also have a knack for reading people though.” She added, tilting her head to the side with a smirk as her eyes gave him a brief once over.

“Tha’ so?” Chibs leaned forward slightly, leaving only mere inches between the two of them.

“One of my many hidden talents.” She hummed gently, winking as she pulled away with a mischievous grin.

“Hidden talents, ‘ey?” He chuckled before returning to his drink. “Suppose I’ll ‘ave to inquire ‘bout those later?”

“If you’re lucky.” Teagan shrugged as she threw another wink his way before she skipped off to the other end of the bar to check on the other customers.

“C’mon man...my sister? Really?!” The voice came from beside him; Chibs turning with a grin to find Tig leaning against the bar. A mild look of disgust plastered to his face.

“Don’ go gettin’ yer knickers in’a bind, man.” Chibs replied casually. “Jus’ bein’ friendly is all.”

“Yeah...the fact she’s wearin’ your shirt looks pretty friendly to me.” He grumbled, jumping as the dark haired woman slammed his beer down in front of him.

“Don’t go startin’ shit, Tiggy.” She warned, pointing an accusing finger in her brothers face. Having caught the snide remark as she returned. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Tig mumbled under his breath snarkily, gesturing to the shirt she wore as she turned to leave. Halting abruptly at his comment, her fair skin flushing red with anger as she turned on her heel sharply. Chibs about to step in and defend her when she reached across the bar to snatch her brother up by the collar of his Kutte, yanking him forward.

“And if you’re insinuating that I fucked your friend, I didn’t.” She seethed, green eyes blazing as she stared her brother down. Tig opening his mouth to argue the point when Clay barked at them to knock their shit off.

“Enough!” His deep voice bellowed through the Clubhouse, compelling it into silence as he stepped out of the Chapel. “Let him go Teagan.” She did as she was told, but not before giving her brother one final sneer. Shoving him back across the bar roughly before storming off to grab a couple more cases of booze from storage. Pausing for a smoke break outside in an attempt to calm her nerves, turning as she heard heels clicking on the concrete behind her as Gemma approached the table she sat on.

“Give it time sweetheart...” She assured the younger woman, giving her a grin as she lit the joint that hung from her lips.

“I’ve given it years, Gem.” Teagan scoffed as she stamped out the last of her smoke. “Twelve, to be exact...six if you don’t count the time I did in Prison.”

“I know baby...” Gemma replied as she exhaled, offering the joint to the younger woman beside her who accepted willingly. Taking an exceptionally large hit, before passing it back. Exhaling the sweet smoke with a sigh as she frowned.

“He still see’s me as the same junkie fuck-up that left charming in cuffs at 17.” Teagan stated dejectedly, burying her face in her hands as tears built behind her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Oh honey...” Gemma sighed, pulling her into a tight embrace. Smoothing her hand in circles around her back. “Your brother might harbor a lot of anger about the past...but none of it is intended for you baby girl.” Teagan pulled away slightly, looking up at Gemma with a confused expression. Her brows furrowed together tightly.

“What do you mean?”

Gemma sighed, taking a seat beside her on the bench. Taking another long pull off her joint before passing it back to Teagan.

“He blames himself for the path you took. For not being there to keep you straight when your Mom bailed.” Gemma stated softly. “For not realizing sooner that -- that guys you got involved with was bad fucking new from the start...”

Teagan sniffed lightly, wiping at her face as a stray tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. All the years she’d spent assuming he was angry with her...it never once crossed her mind that maybe he blamed himself too. Gemma smiled softly.

“You really think he would’a saved that car all these’s years, otherwise?” Gemma smiled softly as she nudged the younger woman’s shoulder gently with her own, earning half a smile out of her in return.

“I assumed he would’ve kept it for other reasons.” She replied quietly, taking a final hit from the joint before handing it back to Gemma and hopping off the table to retrieve the beer cases she’d pulled, pausing just before she entered back into the Clubhouse. Her green eyes sorrowful as the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips.

“After all...it was never really mine to begin with.”

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

Teagan was still tending bar later that evening; Half-Sack returning later than expected, but she didn’t mind. She actually enjoyed the work as it kept her mind off the world of worry she had precariously balanced on her shoulders. Who knows, maybe if she begged hard enough she could even convince Clay to actually hire her on permanently.

The Clubhouse was quiet for the most part, save for the small talk between Tara and Gemma at the end of the bar. The rest of the Crew currently immersed in a meeting discussing Club business. The Jukebox playing 80′s tunes softly, creating decent background noise as she wiped down the bar and restocked the empty slots in the beer cooler. Making several trips back and forth into storage with Half-Sack to pull more cases.

She had overheard talk of some of the Tacoma boys arriving soon, and there always seemed to be a heavy thirst among the men after a long meeting. Knowing it was better to be over stocked than under; she found a place out of the way to stack the remaining cases she had brought out. Assuring she would be set for a while as she dusted her hands against her jeans.

“You’re pretty good at that.” Piney’s gruff voice commented as he took a seat at the bar. The other men slowly filtering out of the Chapel and following suit. Scattering among the bar as their chatter slowly started to fill the room again. Teagan smiled at the old man kindly.

“Thanks...I’ve had a lot of practice.” She chuckled, pouring him a double shot of Tequila and leaving the bottle on the bar-top. “I worked all over down in Vegas. Pretty damn good money to if you’re decent at it.”

“I would imagine so.” He chuckled. “’Specially with a pretty face like yours...makes the all the menfolk tip good.” He winked, tossing a $20 onto the bar for her.

“Jesus pop, don’t go blowin’ it all at once.” Opie laughed as he took a seat beside the old man, ordering a beer and a shot of his own.

“Gah...” Piney scoffed with a wave. “If only someone would’a warned me ‘bout that years ago...you wouldn’t be here.” He replied sarcastically, cheersing his glass to the air before knocking back it’s contents. Gathering up the bottle and glass before meandering away from the bar.

“Ouch...that ones gotta sting, huh Ope?” Teagan chuckled as she tapped the tip against the bar before tucking it inside the tip jar on the counter behind her.

“What’s Hale doin’ here?” Juice questioned as he watched the surveillance cameras overhead, Teagan turning as she set his beer down in front of him. All the color draining out of her face as she noted the Deputy and several other Officers climbing out of their rigs.

“Jesus...” Clay gave an aggravated sigh as he nudged Gemma off his lap. “Can’t a guy sit for five fucking minutes.” Grumbling as he made his way towards the door, Bobby and Jax in tow as they followed him outside.

“Ye al’righ love?” Chibs questioned as he sat down, worry evident in his brown eyes as he stared at Teagan. Studying her expression as she watched the cameras. Panic setting in as she watched Hale hand over what was most likely an arrest warrant.

The older man confused as she quickly stripped off all her rings, a necklace, and pulled her cell from her pocket and a switch blade out of her boot. Shoving it all toward the Scotsman who tucked everything into the inner pocket of his Kutte without a second thought. About to question her again as the Clubhouse doors opened and Deputy Hale and his Officers entered. Clay and the rest of the guys following close behind.

“Teagan Trager?” Hale spoke calmly, watching as she paused from wiping down the bar -- a little to furiously -- and looked up at him. Inwardly groaning at the sympathetic look he wore on his face.

“David...” She sighed. Tossing the bar towel aside as she placed her hands against the bar, arching a brow as she waited for what she knew was about to follow.

“It has been brought to my attention that you’re in violation of your Parole...I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.” He stepped forward, placing what was most defiantly a warrant on the bar in front of her. Chibs craning his neck over the Deputy’s shoulder to glance at it. Gemma pushing her way to the bar to grab it.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” She demanded as she snatched the paper off the bar-top and gave it a once over. Her expression falling as she looked up at the young raven haired woman. “Jesus, Teag.”

“Call my lawyer, Gem.” She instructed as one of the officers came around the back side of the bar. Pushing her forward onto it as he cuffed her hands behind her back and checked her for weapons.

“And?!” Gemma demanded as they began ushering Teagan towards the door.

“I’m assuming you should inquire as to why in the BLUE FUCK my paper work he said he’d fax over to the Charming Police Depart never showed up!”

The doors slammed shut behind them, leaving the remaining members of the Clubhouse glancing around at each other with confused looks as they watched her loaded into the back of the squad car on the cameras. Gemma pinching the bridge of her nose as she drew in a deep breath. Retrieving Teagan’s phone from Chibs as she scrolled through the contacts, pulling up her Lawyer’s personal number before punching send and placing it to her ear.

“Shit...”

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

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @stacie-marie-bloom @cole-winchester @journeyrose

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bublp0pr · 7 years ago

Text

Thaaaaat’s politics!

fanfiction idea:

A story focussed around an NPC character. Minimal to no reference to Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, Asgore, Toriel.

(I mean, obviously to put things in motion you need a bit of a catalyst so I’ll include Flowey to make things interesting, but still)

So Flowey is playing around with his power and has a friendly chat with the “Thaaaaaaat’s politics” bear. And he goes “You know, mister, you really should run for mayor.”

Now, Bear has a crush on the inn keeper, who lost her husband in the Core accident and is now a single mother running the business on her own. But he’s never had the courage to actually confess. The little bun needs a responsible role model in their life and he’s not sure he can fit that bill. Flowey manipulates him, saying that he could impress her if he became mayor. This is the turning point for him and he becomes driven to make this happen and rock the boat.

He starts gathering support from the other under appreciated NPCs in Snowdin. We take a little look under the hood at the 1 dimensional characters, flesh them out a bit with relationships and backstory, establish their families and personalities etc. as Bear tries to convince them to meet in the centre of town.

They congregate together and have a discussion that raises some pretty convincing points about some of the not-so-sensible things Asgore has put in place and all the discontent that happen under the current system

(Papyrus is there too i suppose, he personally doesn’t see the problem with dangerous puzzles at every turn and “overcrowding” just means more chances to make friends in his opinion. He does get mildly concerned when people point out that their only law-enforcement is by an over powered fish lady with low impulse control and mild anger management issues, who doesn’t even live in Snowdin or understand their town’s core values... Sans is just too lazy to even bother showing up. But never mind them! Who needs main characters?! pffft)

At the end of the day, they agree to send out some representatives to the capital to bring their concerns to the capital and demand that they be given the right to have their own mayor. A very confused king listens to them over a cup of tea agrees lets them hold an election.

And here’s where Flowey has to come back in to keep the story interesting. Because underhanded political feuding is something he’d love to get his sneaky little vines all tangled in.

Bear runs of course but so does the shopkeeper, Dogaressa, Grillby (not that he wanted to, he hates public speaking. But his customers pushed him into trying because of how well-liked he is), one of the ladies who writes the newspaper and Sans (again, someone else volunteered him, more for the joke of it. Papyrus confronts him about it, [insert pun here] and he somehow pulls out before it’s even started.)

He starts the campaign out strong, trying to gain respect in the community and presenting strategies for re-allocating their resources to improving the lifestyle of locals. But with Flowey as his campaign manager, this isn’t going to be a clean fight >:)

Flowey knows what makes people tick: empty promises, bribes, scandal, blackmail, slander. Again and again he offers to “help” Bear win the election. It starts off with harmless suggestions, nothing he’d feel... uncomfortable with. Just a little leverage. That’s all. At the start Bear insists that he’s better than that. He got into this thing to clean up this town, not step on monster’s toes to gain power.

The town starts to divide into different sides of support. Everyone really gets into the festivity of the thing, with parades, posters, flyers and all sorts of stuff. Monsters raise good points and get inventive with how they sell their persona. Conversation on the UnderNet is abuzz about this new system and what it could mean for other locations such as Waterfall and Hotland in the future. Polls about who people think will win turn up in the newspaper. Mettaton starts a TV special promising full coverage of the story. There’s a new energy to the place that the monsters hadn’t even realised they’d been missing.

Unbelievably, it’s the lesser encounter enemies that start to become the main demographics for voting. Making allowances for the anarchist desires of the teenage gangs in the woods, promising better treatment of Gyftrots in future with more efforts to raise awareness of the mistreatment during this gift-exchanging holiday, the removal of the snowball tax, distribution of more caps for icecaps, more union breaks for Royal Guardsman (Sans is mysteriously always suddenly very present when people bring up this one)

But the competition starts to become more ruthless (thanks to some intervention from anonymous plant sources) And slowly, as he gets more desperate, he gives in starts to try out some of Flowey’s “friendly suggestions”. (Thaaaaaats politics!)

I saw Dogamy with a certain bunny at Grillby’s the other night... Haha. Can’t you keep a collar on that husband of yours Dogaressa?

What would Undyne say if she found out about all those “dog treats” you’ve been sniffing Doggo? My my, if someone were to... oh, I don’t know, tell her. What would she do I wonder?

So you want out of your job sending ice to the Core, Ice Wolf? ...I know a guy. That can be arranged.

One by one, the competition drops out in fear, stress or shame. There’s some last minute underdog candidate but they haven’t so much as shown their face since signing up (does it really even count as running if they just suddenly trot into the room and leave a paw print on the ballot paper and then running away again before people could make copies ; ) ??) Bear looks like he’s going to win.

Feeling confident about his chances, the night before election he builds up his courage and goes to confess his feelings to the innkeeper. She rejects him because of the awful way he treated her sister, (Flowey had threatened to distribute her secret cinnamon bunny recipe to every vendor in the underground). He goes to Grillbys and tries to drink his feelings away. Grillby remains silent, but Bear knows he’s judging him. “Tt’s all that flower’s fault!” He’d moan. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t think it would be like this!”

Flowey’s waiting for him outside when he leaves for the night. He’s not happy that his toy is acting so irresponsibly the day before election. They deserve a small scolding, a little reminder of who’s really in charge here. There’s too much at stake here. Once Bear becomes mayor, Snowdin will be his. An entire town in his pocket! The possibilities are endless... He can’t afford stupid mistakes so close to getting his prize.

Bear, with a little liquid courage still in his system, stands up to Flowey. He says that he can’t take this anymore and has decided to step down.

...

Flowey doesn’t like being told no.

Perhaps he wasn’t clear enough. Did he honestly think that Flowey had dirt on every person in Snowdin and couldn’t tear his reputation apart too? “I’ll tell Asgore what you’ve done... I’ll tell him every single dirty crime you’ve committed for this. Hehehehe! We’re in this together you and I! To the very end.”

Bear has no choice. In dismay he goes back to his home, ashamed of the monster he has now become.

The next day, Asgore himself visits Snowdin for the counting of the votes. Bear looks up at that stage like a man looking at his own guillotine. From the trees, Flowey watches with a keen eye. He’s already tampered with the votes. Snowdin’s as good as his. He just needs to make sure there’s no funny business.

Bear searches through the crowd of people and spots the innkeeper. Walking over to her, he apologises for everything he’s done and what he’s about to do. “Wait, what? What you’re about to... Bear?” He’s already walking towards the stage. A fluffy white dog is sleeping on one side of the stage. It looks quite comfortable despite the noisy location. Asgore smiles at him as Bear takes his place on the stand. The dog is the first to speak. With a small yawn, it stands up and moves to the microphone. It lets out another yawn and a small bark before pantering back to it’s warm little spot on the wooden stand.

Bear looks at it nervously. Dammit. Who’s supposed to say no to a speech as direct and persuasive as that?? He shuffles his cards and walks to the podium. Looking down at his furry paws, he can see them trembling. With a sigh he looks up at the crowd. He sees the faces of those he used to get here today. With one last glance, he tosses aside the notes carefully written by Flowey and tightens his grip on the microphone.

Mettaton shoves BurgerPants, who’s carrying the heaps of camera equipment shakily in his hands. “ARE YOU FILMING THIS YOU WORTHLESS THING?” Last minute drama. How thrilling!! With a grumble he zooms in on the determined look in Bear’s eye.

“I would like to formally apologise for how I’ve acted. I started this simply wanting the best for my town and somewhere along the way, I lost that focus. To my fellow candidates, my fellow citizens of Snowdin, my fellow monsterkind: I am sorry for how I have behaved towards you. I... am unfit to be your mayor. For this reason,” He glances at the king, “I have decided to abdicate.”

There are collective gasps from the crowd. Monsters watch in a mix of pride, shock and confusion as the tiny white dog receives a sash around it’s neck and licks Asgore’s face.

Flowey is seething in the background. How dare he?! A sick grin twist on his face. “Oh... you think you’re so clever do you??? We’ll see who’s clever you idiot.”

Vines spread their way through the crowds of people without them noticing.

Bear leans down and shakes Annoying Dog’s paw with a weak smile. It barks happily, but looks like it would rather be returning to its nap.

Once in position, the green rope grows sharp thorns and becomes tense, tearing through the hoards of people. There are shrieks as all the monsters are suddenly raised in the air. Flowey emerges from the ground, a large smile on his face. “Sorry folks! Change of plan! Looks like it’s going to be a hostile takeover.” He cackles loudly. Monsters try and fail to struggle against him.

“Bear, Bear, Bear!” He sighs in mock disappointment. “I had such high hopes for you! But now look what you’re gone and done! I tried to warn you, I really did. What is it with monsters and never,” He squeezes the monster tighter “following through?”

Bear is terrified. He’d never seen Flowey this dangerous before. Sure, there’d been that disturbing look to his face when he spoke about certain things... but never like this. “P-p-please...” He starts blubbering, scared for his life.

This is starting to bore Flowey. He’d never be able to control the monsters properly after this point. As soon as he lets go of Asgore, he’s dust. In fact, in a few minutes Undyne’s probably going to arrive as well. Maybe he should just reset.

A monster manages to wriggle their way out from his grip. Flowey sends bullets towards them flippantly, turning the thing to dust. “Here’s how this is going to work, pal. I’m going to kill you-” There’s a small wail at this. “SHUT UP!” He screeches at him. “I’m going to kill you. And then I’m going to start turning the rest of these monsters to dust one by one until Undyne arrives. Unless Mr Asgore here takes me to the human souls.” It’s not a well thought out plan but this timeline’s already ruined anyway, it can’t hurt to be direct.

Asgore lifts up his head in confusion, then it morphs into horror. He goes grim.

“No.”

Flowey starts laughing. “Hear that people?! KING ASGORE here, doesn’t think your lives are worth saving!” There are a few mumbles from the crowd. Asgore remains stoic. The good of monsterkind is worth more than the life of the individual. Flowey leans in closer to him. “You know, these worthless idiots do have a point. You’re a pretty sucky king, Fluffy buns.” He giggles at the stupid nickname. Asgore stares at him with an intense anger. “Let these people go.” Flowey tilts his head. “Sure thing! Will do! Just give me the souls.” The two are inches apart, glaring at eachother unwaveringly.

A blue spear sails between the two. Ah. That’s his cue to leave. “Well, this has been fun!” He calls. “We should do it again sometime! Maybe next time you can play along a little better though, Bear?”

Bear is in over his head here. He just hangs in Flowey’s vines, powerless.

Flowey pulls back his attacks and disappears into the ground with a grin as the rest of the Royal Guard approaches.

RESET. Continue?

#i've read too much finagl lately if you can't tell #meh #there was some good concepts that came out in this idea though #it's not really fleshed out enough for a full fanfic in my opinion #and i'd probably change the ending if i was going to make this proper #but yeah #fanfic idea #that ended up being really long

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digiandromeda · 8 years ago

Note

Post Canon Request - Yuya, Yuto, and Yugo have asked Zuzu, Lulu, and Rin to prom. Hilarity ensues due to the fact that all eight counterparts now share two bodies.

(A/N: YES!! ALL OF THE YES!!! only… japanese schools don’t have proms… so i went with the next best thing! also, this kinda ran away from me… it was supposed to be a drabble… now it’s at least a four part fic… I hope you enjoy!!)

The White Day Festival- Date 1: Yuto

“Does this look good on us?” Yuya asked aloud as he gave himselfa one-over in the mirror, scrunching up his red eyes. He had on a blacklong-sleeved button-up shirt under a short-sleeved gray and purple jacket. The openedjacket ended just above his stomach and had a turtle neck like collar, onlyheld together by a single gold button. His pants were gray and his shoes wereblack.

“I think we look fine.”An ethereal voice spoke from his right.

“I still say we shouldwear something white…” another one grumbled from behind him.

“Yugo,” a thirdmore exasperated, and slightly annoyed, voice spoke from Yuya’s left, “The girls are the only ones allowed to wearwhite.” Yuya felt a drop of sweat fall down his face as listened to his counterparts.He could feel the second one’s temper raising.

“Yuri,” the firstone warned, “calm down. There’s no usegetting upset.” Yuya felt Yuri’s mental eye twitch. “Yugo, please stop sulking… you’re affecting the rest of us…”

“Sorry…” came thetruly apologetic reply. Yugo meant well and his idea to ware white was a goodone, but the school specifically announced that only the girls were allowed towear white.

“Yuto, would you be willing to ware white on your next datewith Ruri?” Yuya asked the first voice.

They all felt Yugo jump with excitement.

“It’s your body, Yuya.”Yuto laughed.

“But it’s your date!” Yuya raised an eyebrow. “Besides, itjust as much your body now as it is mine.”

“Yuy-” Yuto startedto reply, only to be cut off by a call from downstairs.

“Boys, if you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late!” Yokocalled.

“Haaaahhhh…” Yuya half wined, half sighed as he grabbed hisduel disk and hurried out his bedroom door. He slid down the fire pole andturned towards his mom.

“Aw! You guys look awesome!” Yoko grabbed her son(s) into agiant bear hug. Before Yuya would have complained but after everything that hadhappen in the last few months, he decided he wouldn’t take things for grantedanymore. Plus, Yugo loved it!

Yuya’s arms wrapped around Yoko as a happy but goofy grinspread across his face. He gave her a big squeeze and Yoko laughed.

“Yugo!” She sung, knowing exactly which of her boys washugging her. “Try not to cause any trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Yugo’s nervous voice replied from Yuya. Yokopulled away from the boy and leveled him with a no nonsense stare.

“That goes double for Yuri.” She ordered and a drop of sweatran down the back of his neck as his, now, light blue eyes widened.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep each other out of trouble.” Yugoreplied.

“As much as we can,given the situation we’re in.” Came Yuri’s grumbled reply.

“You have no right tocomplain when we take control, to stop you from doing something stupid.”Yuya’s ethereal voice said dryly, a bit glad that his mom couldn’t hear them. “Neither do I for that matter…”

“Hm… that sounds like it’d be funny to see!” Yoko laughed asshe imagined the look people must have when her son suddenly did a 180 on hispersonality. “But seriously, boys, behave yourselves. Not everyone is used toyou and the girls yet.”

“Yes, ma’am…” Yugo replied solemnly, a frown on his face.Yoko smiled sadly, then leaned over and gave her son(s) a kiss on his forehead.Yugo turned bright red and sputtered a little.

“Here, don’t forget this.” She turned around and grabbed a giftbag from the table. “I’m sure the girls will love them!” she handed it to Yugo.“Now, off you go! And be careful on the D-wheel.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Yugo smiled brightly as he headed out the door.

* * *

“Yugo, I am SO glad you know how to drive.” Yuto’s voicesighed in relief as he took control and Yuya’s eyes turned gray. He pulled offthe red helmet, and goggles, and secured them to the D-wheel.

“Technically we all donow.” Came the nonchalant reply.

“Yeah… but I doubt wewould have handled that situation the way you did…” Yuya laughed nervously.

“Maybe we should takeYugo’s D-wheel next time…” Yuri suggested. “Less people will recognize it… No offence, Yugo.”

“None taken.” Yutofelt Yugo cross his ethereal arms. “Yuyadid beat Jack. It’s only natural people would be trying to beat him now aswell.”

“That’s all fine anddandy, BUT WE CLEARLY SAID NO!” Yuya raged and Yuto twitched at theloudness in his head.

“Some people don’t know how to take a hint…” Yuto mumbled ashe picked up the gift bag and headed towards the school courtyard, stoppingonce to make sure the D-wheel’s key was in his pocket.

“Some people shouldhave their license revoked!” Yuya seethed. He didn’t take well to beingrammed off the road, especially when they had someplace to be.

“Yuya, calm down…” Yuto whispered as he passed by othernicely dressed students. “We shouldn’t go into this event angry. It’ll onlyworry the girls.”

“Right… sorry…”Yuya did the ethereal equivalent of taking deep breaths and Yuto immediatelyfelt all four of them calm down.

“Oh the joys of sharingemotions.” Yuri’s mumbled sarcastically as Yuto walked under a ‘Welcome’banner. His sarcasms was met with three small laughs.

“Yuya!” Someone called from behind them. Yuto turned to lookand saw Gongenzaka running up to them. “Glad to see you could make it! That wasa pretty tight spot.” He reached Yuto’s side and looked him over.

“You saw?” Yuto winced. It hadn’t been the best ofsituations.

“You’re Yuto, right?” Yuto blinked in surprise, then nodded.It seemed their close friends were getting better at telling who was currentlyin control. “I saw it from the train. That was Yugo’s deck, so I take it Yugodrove?”

“He’s getting good attelling us apart…” Yuri stated.

“Well, he’s known mesince we were little.” Yuya laughed.“I would be hurt if he couldn’t tell usapart.”

“Yeah.” they resumed making their way to the courtyardpassing by even more students. All the guys were wearing nice, somewhat fancy,dark colored clothing, while all the girls were wearing white dresses. “Wewanted to get here quickly and Yugo’s the only one confident enough to go fastin traffic.”

“Ah, I see. That make since.” Gongenzaka himself was wearinga nice but simple black suit… with his red headband still on. “He didn’t goabove the speed limit, did he?”

“Of course not!” Yuto mildly exclaimed. “Do you know whatYoko-san would do to us if we did?” The horror was evident in his voice. Thefirst thing Yuto, Yugo, and especially Yuri learned was to not cross Yuya’smother.

“I can imagine!” Gongenzaka laughed. “So, are you andRuri-san taking the first turn?”

“Yes, Yugo is to hyper, Yuri… is Yuri, and Yuya is to shy.”He said quickly, before the other three could stop him.

“OY!”

“What is THAT supposedto mean?”

“Yuto!” game three disgruntled replies.

Yuto chuckled at their response and Gongenzaka joined him inhis laughter.

“I kind of wish I could hear the other threes reaction tothat.” Gongenzaka smiled. Yuto paused for a moment, then looked at the tallerteen.

“Do you want to talk with Yuya for a bit?” he asked.

“No, that’s alright. I talk with him all the time. It’s yourturn to have some fun.” He patted Yuto on the back, who stumbled forward a bit.“Look there she is!” He stated as they walked into the courtyard.

The courtyard was decked out in white and light pink bannersand streamers. There were fake white roses attached to all the trees and busheswhile a small stage had been set up in one of the corners. Paper hearts of red,white, and pink had been taped across the walls randomly and small signs hadbeen placed by each door.

Standing by one of the doors was Yuzu. Her hair was down withstrands from the front pulled back with a white rose clip. Her dress was awhite sundress with a light pink sash around her hip and another rose on herleft hip holding the sash up. The skirt of her dress was a bit puffy, due tothe tulle netting poking out from underneath it. She had white gloves on andwhite knee high socks, as well as pink Mary Jane shoes and a simple silver andpink heart neckless.

“I can’t tell which one of you is staring but you might wantto close your mouth.” Gongenzaka laughed.

Yuto jumped a little and slammed his mouth shut. His face wasbright red and he was 100% sure it was all of them staring, because heimmediately imagined Ruri in that outfit… and he was sure Yugo had done thesame thing with Rin. He wasn’t sure about Yuri.

“Sorry!” came Yuya‘s and Yuto’s panicked response.

“I wonder if havingfour boys in one body comes with four times the hormones?” Yuri mused.

“I Hope not!” Yuto exclaimed out load. Gongenzaka blinked atthe sudden outburst.

“Who said what now?” he asked.

“Ah… sorry,” Yuto apologized, “Yuri… is… well, let’s just sayhe comes up with nightmareish ideas…” the teen sighed.

“Thank you.” Yurismirked in Yuto’s mind.

“You would take that asa compliment…” Yugo dryly remarked.

“I see.” Gongenzaka raised an eyebrow. “Well, he is a… whatis that term? Troll?”

“Yes, yes he is.” came a heavy sigh. “Before we- …I head over to the girls. What are yourplans for the evening?”

“Not much actually, I received some obligatory gifts on Valentine’sDay so, I have some return gifts to hand out.” Gongenzaka held his chin inthought. “Although, Honda-san can’t have sweets and her injury prevents herfrom dancing, so I’ll probably spend some time with her.”

“Honda-san… That’s one of your classmates, right? What happened?”

“Yep. She’s in the martial arts club and had an… accidentwhile training.”

“Eesh.” Yuto flinched. “Well, have fun.” He smiled as hebegan to make his way to Yuzu.

“You to! Keep the other three out of trouble!” Gongenzakawaved goodbye.

“I will!” Yuto laughed.

“Why doesn’t anyoneinclude Yuto? Why is it always ‘The other three’?” Yugo complained.

“Because he’s the mostresponsible and the least likely to get into trouble.” Yuri replied.

“Yeah… but he has hismoments.” Yuya tossed in as he remembered his first duel against Edo. Yutoflinched at his counterpart’s words, knowing exactly what he was referring to,without actually hearing the others thoughts.

“That sounds like aninteresting story.” Yuri purred.

“For another day. Rightnow we have something more important to worry about.” Yuya replied.

As they made their way to Yuzu, she waved her hand at themand smiled.

“Yuto! You made it!”

“Why wouldn’t we?” He laughed. He stopped in front of her andsaw that her eyes were pink, indicating it was Ruri in control.

“Well, apparently you were nearly run off the road?” Ruri’svoice asked in concern.

“…” Yuto frowned. “Why does everyone know aboutthat?” Gongenzaka saw it but the girls shouldn’t have.

“Someone caught it on video… and posted itonline…” Ruri Answered.

“Oh, come on…” Yuto facepalmed. None of the boys had wantedthe girls to see that dual, much less anyone else.

“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Rurismiled as she took Yuto hand. Yuto blushed as she intertwined their fingerstogether. “Where to first?” she asked.

“Where ever you want to go.” He smiled. He noticed theunusually bright blush on Ruri face and assumed it belonged to one of the othergirls.

“Then how about…” Ruri mused for a bit, lightly shaking herhead a bit as she mumbled to herself.

“Is that how we look,when we talk to each other…?” Yugo asked uncertainly.

“Probably…” Yurireplied.

“The Cosplay Café!” Ruri suddenly exclaimed. “They’resupposed to have a special dessert for couples.” She smiled broadly as she tuggedYuto into the school and up a flight of stairs.

“She moves fast!” aflustered Yuya declared. “No wonder youtwo are dating…”

Yuto held back a chuckle as he and Ruri dodged around thestudent’s in the hall. They passed by the classrooms, all of which had beentransformed into different types of ‘Booths’. There was a haunted house, amaze, a game room, and many different types of ‘Restaurants’.

Finally, they reached the Cosplay Café. It was, actually, thecooking clubs room, which had been transformed into a cute café. They walked inand saw small round table scattered about the room, each covered in a checkeredpastel colored table cloths.

“Please, sit where ever you’d like!” one of the club members,dressed as Cutie Honey, called to them as she carried food to a couple in thecorner.

“Alright.” Ruri led them to a table by the window. It overlooked the courtyard and they could see more students and guest pouring in.

Even as they sat down Ruri never let go of Yuto’s hand. Shelaid their joined hands on the table and ran her thumb over his knuckles. Shewas staring out the window and most likely not even aware of what her hand wasdoing.

Yuto gave her a lopsided grin and gently moved his hand awayas the Cutie Honey cosplayer came over and handed them menus. Ruri frowned alittle at the sudden lack of warmth in her hand but smiled as she read themenu.

“They have Karumeyaki!” she squeaked.

“…And pancakes…” Yuto mumbled as he resisted Yuya’s urge todrool.

“Sorry… I just reallylike Moms pancakes…” Yuya apologized. Once everyone’s memories hadreturned, Yuya had developed a strange obsession with his Mother’s pancakes.Yuto assumed it was because of how much he had missed her during the war.

Yuto smiled fondly, letting his emotions tell Yuya heunderstood.

“Is that what you want?” He asked Ruri.

“Hm…” Ruri gave him a conflicted look. “I donno… The dessertI mentioned earlier is the Marshmallow Parfait but…” she sighed as she let herupper body collapsed dramatically onto the table. “Everything sounds good!”

“I’m sure one of theother booths or classrooms will have Karumeyaki.” Yuri stated. “… That is how these Festivals work, right?”

“Yeah, it’s notuncommon for one or two of the same thing to appear in different places.”Yuya confirmed.

“Yuri and Yuya suggest looking for karumeyaki at one of theother booths.”

Yuto said absentmindedly as he looked for something he mightlike. The Marshmallow Parfait sounded good but stupidly sweet. If they weregoing to get it and share it he was going to need something a bit bitter andthirst quenching to counteract the overwhelming sweetness.

“They did?” Ruri blinked. She looked at Yuto, studyinghis(Yuya’s) face before returning to the menu. Yuto ignored her gaze, knowingshe was still getting used to the unique situation the eight of them were in.

“Did you make up your mind?” He asked.

“More or less…” She hesitantly replied.

“I sense a hidden ‘But’ in there.” He gave her a small,amused smile.

“But…” she continued, “It’s…well…” she hesitated again.

“It’s hard to make a choice when you have three other voicesin your head?”

“…” Ruri sighed. “Yes… we don’t mean to but we can’t seem tokeep our thoughts to ourselves… they keep… leaking.” She frowned sadly. Yutoreached over and took her hand back into his.

“Don’t worry…” He said softly. “All of you will get the hangof this… it wasn’t easy for us ether.”

“But you adjusted so quickly…” she gripped his fingers infrustration. “why is it taking us so long?”

“Yuya and I have been like this for weeks…” he felt a twangof guilt from Yugo but ignored it. “That’s why we adjusted quicker but thatdoesn’t mean we have it down.”

“You don’t?” Ruri looked a bit surprised.

“We don’t.” He confirmed. He made sure his voice was low, to avoidunwanted eavesdroppers, and continued. “We can keep our thoughts from theothers but not our emotions and there are times when we get so emotional we inadvertentlytake control of Yuya’s body.”

“…Really?”

“Yes, really.” Yuto thought a moment, before continuing. “Yokowas angry at Yuri, why I won’t say, but they weren’t getting along. Yoko wastalking to Yusho-san and said something that upset Yuri and without realizingor meaning to, he took control of Yuya and began yelling at her.” He felt theother three flinch at the memory and did his best to keep a calm face.

“Yuri… actually got upset?” Ruri looked at Yuto in disbelief.

“Yes. He did.” Yuto held back a shudder. “A few days ago,Yugo became so happy about something, he took control of Yuya. The change wasso sudden, we skated right into a tree…” this time he allowed himself toflinch.

“Oh…” Ruri flinched as well.

��We’re still getting the hang of this… we just had a headstart.” He smiled sadly.

“Any tips?” She asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, the only advise I can give is to practicetalking to each other. The more you ‘Talk’ to each other the less you hear theother’s thoughts.” He gave her a small but sad smile.

“Okay…” Ruri looked down at their entwined hands, before theyheard the sound of footsteps headed their way.

“Sorry for the wait,” The Cutie Honey waitress apologized,“But are you ready to order?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Yuto said as he let go off Ruri hand and pickedthe menu back up. “What about you, Ruri?”

“Oh! Yes, I am!” she fumbled with the menu before findingwhat it was she wanted. “We’ll have the Marshmallow Parfait and I’ll have a cupof Melon soda.” She smiled.

“Alright…” The waitress jotted down Ruri’s order beforeturning to Yuto. “And you?

“I’ll have a cup of green tea…” Yuto sighed.

“Normal or Dark?” she asked, recognizing the look of someoneresigned to their ‘sweet’ fate.

“Dark.” He handed the menu back to her, as did Ruri.

“Understood.” She nodded solemnly, then smiled. “I’ll beright back with your drinks.

___

~OmEki ThEaTeR~ RuRi’S sIdE

Ruri looked down at their entwined hands. Yuya’s hands werecallused and rough but warm. They were a testament to his dedication to Entertainmentdueling. They spoke of his acrobatic training and the trials and errors he hadfaced.

They were so similar yet so different from Yuto’s… Her Yuto’shands were softer and had less calluses. He dueled for personal fun and, whilehe enjoyed competing, he didn’t have the zeal to become a professional thatYuya did…

So similar… yet so different…

Even her ‘own’ hands where different… Yuzu’s hands weresimilar too Yuya’s. they were covered in calluses and little scars from daysand hours of training… Ruri’s hands had been similar, but softer. They were notyet as calluses and rough as her counterparts… but… she supposed none of thatmattered now…

Yuzu’s hands were Ruri’s and Yuya’s were Yuto’s.

#arc v #yugioh arc v #yuya sakaki #yuto (arc v)#white day fest #My Arc V fanfics #my fanfic

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