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littlemisspascal · 4 years

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Death and an Angel part 14.5

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,701

Warnings: angst, dialogue heavy, language, angst, Violence, plot plot plot, did I mention angst? Cuz it’s here

Author Note: Texas weather is no laughing matter and never have I hated snow more than these last few days. This is definitely more of a transition segment so I wrote shorter snippets as a result, but there is some serious plot development nevertheless. The response to last chapter was so amazing I can’t thank everyone enough for all the love and support 💖💖💖

Links to Part 1 and Part 14 and Part 15

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Ahsoka hijacks the Razor Crest as soon as Din teleports her aboard the ship. She pushes Din out of the cockpit, refusing to let him so much as glimpse the coordinates of the destination she inputs into the nav computer. The Oracle hadn’t been kidding when she said she didn’t trust him going alone to rescue his soulmate.

Bo-Katan hadn’t been phased by Ahsoka’s arrival, adapting to her presence with the same ease as a duck to water. However, Din couldn’t help noticing the moment her mask of cool indifference slipped when Ahsoka asked the reaper to stay in the cockpit with her, claiming they had important matters to discuss.

Din climbs down the ladder into the hull, recognizing that the conversation about to ensue is not one he needs to be involved in. Fingers twitching restlessly, he commits himself to checking each of the weapons in his armory, sharpening his vibroblades and loading a set of whistling birds into his vambrace. He’d made a promise to Ahsoka against killing Moff Gideon, but he’d made no vow against scarring the Seraph beyond recognition.

When Din’s finished with him, Gideon will be a warning to the rest of the galaxy what happens if you steal from Death.

He stills at the thrum of satisfaction that runs through his body at the thought of pressing Gideon’s eyeballs out with his thumbs. The darkness within him has grown stronger since he killed Hess and it’s becoming an increasingly harder challenge denying its craving for bloodshed. If not for Ahsoka’s intervention, he would have reaped Xi’an’s soul, breaking another sacred rule. He should feel grateful, but the darkness expresses annoyance instead, upset to have been denied its kill.

There is a thought that has been plaguing the back of his mind, shackled in the same corner as his other doubts and regrets. He once had iron control over his powers and emotions, but now he’s holding onto his human façade by a mere thread. So slowly he hadn’t even been aware it was happening, his darkness has usurped his morality.

He’s meant to be a neutral entity, but when he looks at his reflection in the fresher mirror all he sees is a weapon.

Obsidian orbs have replaced brown eyes. Flawless tan skin has become dissected by lines of ink that once were blue veins.

Darkness is corrupting him from the inside out, making him a slave to the power he once mastered.

And he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to stop it.

Bo-Katan joins him in the hull an hour later. She doesn’t say anything , just leans against the wall across from him, and Din continues cleaning the barrel of his amban rifle as if he doesn’t see her.

The silence isn’t tense or uncomfortable, but he feels her gaze trying to penetrate his helmet. He knows the reaper well-enough to tell there is a question on her mind, but her hesitance to voice it unsettles him. Bo-Katan rarely holds her tongue around him, preferring blunt honesty over sugarcoating, which means whatever is on her mind must be serious.

He bites back a sigh when she starts restlessly shifting in place and pauses his task. “Ahsoka told you,” he says at last.

“That Moff Gideon fucked with our lives?” Bo-Katan snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, she showed me everything.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. But it’s...good not being in the dark anymore. I needed to hear the truth,” she replies stoically, but the pointless adjustment of her headband betrays her internal strife. There is a moment of pause before she looks at him again. “I heard about your promise,” she says, and it’s not really a question, except that it is.

Din’s fingers tighten around the rifle. “Did she make you swear the same one?”

“No.” Bo-Katan shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

He’s not surprised by the answer. He actually thinks he should have expected it, considering the universe has always held him to a stricter standard than other entities.

“Ahsoka made it clear to me that this is something between you, Gideon, and your angel alone. I cannot interfere just like you cannot kill him.”

There is bitter resignation in her tone. He recognizes it because he felt the same when he made his promise to Ahsoka. No one likes being told no when they want something. But this—knowing with absolute certainty Gideon is the one responsible for hurting their loved ones and being told you can’t do anything to avenge them? This is the kind of pain that will linger for years to come as an ache in their bones and a scar over their hearts.

It isn’t fair. But Din’s lived long enough to know the universe never intended life to be that way.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Bo-Katan asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks at her, realizing this is the question she’d been withholding since she came down the ladder. Never has she asked him a request before. “What is it?”

“You must separate Gideon from the Darksaber,” she answers, expression one of absolute seriousness. “The Armorer warned my people if the Lightsaber was ever mishandled, it would turn against the wielder by transforming into the Darksaber. Instead of empowering you, it deceives you. Fills your head with delusions until you lose your grip on reality entirely.”

“And you want to spare Gideon’s sanity?” Din asks slowly.

“Of course not. The son of a bitch deserves to be punished for his crimes. Even if I did want to,” her lips curl into a snarl at the thought, “there’s no way of undoing the damage done to his mind. What I want is for the weapon to be returned to the Armorer. She’s the only one who can properly dispose of it.”

“Right,” he agrees quietly. Anything that comes out of the Armorer’s forge is built to last the length of eternity. He could toss the Darksaber into the center of a sun and it’d remain whole and unaffected, waiting to twist the mind of the next wielder. Nodding his head, he assures her, “I’ll take care of it, even if I have to cut off his hands.”

“Good.”

Din paces the length of the hull, each thud of his boots making contact with the metal floor blends with the low hum of the engines. Usually he’d ignore the creaks and groans of his home, but the metallic symphony is the only thing capable of drowning out the thoughts in his head urging him to storm the cockpit and retake control from Ahsoka.

“Pacing isn’t going to make us arrive any quicker,” Bo-Katan tells him, not even bothering to open her eyes as she lounges atop one of his storage crates. “Ahsoka said it will be another hour at least.”

He has a retort ready on his tongue when a voice calls out his name from somewhere beyond the Razor Crest.

“Din!”

Din freezes in place as unexpected, heart-wrenching hope slices through his chest. He knows that voice. It’s his favorite in all the galaxy.

“Death?” Bo-Katan asks, concerned by his stillness. “What’s wrong?”

He tentatively reaches out towards the bond, giving it the slightest of tugs. When he feels the distant flicker of a reaction on the other end from his angel he nearly forgets how to breathe.

“The bond,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and relief. “I can feel it again.”

Longing fills his chest where the hollowness used to reside now that the invisible block separating them is gone. It wraps around his heart, squeezing so tightly he nearly falls to his knees. Din pulls at the bond again on impulse, possessed by the all-consuming need to see her, to have her at his side where she’ll be safe.

The bond protests the harsh treatment, too weak to physically bring them together across the vast distance separating them. He snarls a curse under his breath, hating being helpless to protect her. It’s unfair, he finds himself thinking for a second time. Unfair how it hurts more now being able to feel her presence compared to when he couldn’t at all.

A paper airplane flickers into existence on the horizon of his mind, flying straight into his hand when he reaches out for it. I can’t leave this place. Not yet, the note says. The words themselves are unsettling, but it’s the strength of the emotions she’s attached that has him reeling with shock. For one crazy, electrifying moment he thinks he’s passed onto the afterlife.

Another note arrives. I miss you, Din. I want to see you so much it hurts. And it’s unbelievable, truly, that he’s found someone who makes him feel as though he’s flying and falling simultaneously.

As he sends a message of his own, never has he been more certain that if anyone can put an end to the darkness inside of him—it’s her.

“The Moff is an expert when it comes to defensive warding,” Ahsoka says as the three of them stand looking up at a canyon wall that extends in either direction as far as their eyes can see. “But even he can’t hide from my sight.”

Din scuffs at the salt-covered ground with his boot, still coming to terms with the fact all this time Gideon’s been hiding out on Crait of all planets. As much as he wants to believe Ahsoka’s right, his powers can’t detect even the barest hint of the Seraph’s presence.

Bo-Katan’s eyebrows arch with skepticism. “You’re sure this is the right place? It’s kind of remote.”

“Perfect for building an army,” Ahsoka replies without missing a beat.

Din exchanges a look with his reaper, realizing this is the first time either of them are hearing about this.

“Gideon has an army?” he asks. “Who—”

“Mercenaries,” she interrupts, turning around to face them. Her blue eyes are distant and cloudy, entranced by a vision. “When I break the warding, all but one will meet the end of their mortal lives attempting to overpower us.”

“All but one? I don’t think so.” Bo-Katan rests her hands deliberately on her blaster pistols. “Anyone who works for Gideon is an enemy in my book.”

“Migs Mayfeld is not to be harmed.” There is steel in Ahsoka’s voice as she blinks back into the present moment.

Din nudges Bo-Katan with his arm when it looks like she wants to continue arguing. The reaper huffs a quiet breath of annoyance, but eventually jerks her head in the tiniest nod of compliance.

Ahsoka grabs her twin sabers from her belt and ignites their blue blades. She handles her weapons with deadly grace, altering her appearance from peaceful Oracle to fierce and cunning warrior. Turning back to the canyon wall, her gaze trails over the red-brown rocks only to pause and narrow at seemingly random points.

Bo-Katan tries and fails to follow her line of vision. “What are you—”

The Oracle leaps into the air with surprising agility, lashing out with her sabers against the rock. Blinding light bursts forth from the point of collision followed by a flickering glimpse of a gigantic metal door.

“—looking at,” Bo-Katan finishes quietly, watching Ahsoka swing herself higher to attack another portion of the canyon wall where the next segment of warding is hidden.

There is something undeniably satisfying about seeing the door materialize as the wardings cloaking it are destroyed. Every precise strike of Ahsoka’s sabers brings Din one step closer to reuniting with his soulmate.

As if spurred by the mere thought of her, fear ripples across the bond like a gust of icy wind, stopping his heart cold. His angel is terrified. Din reaches out as far as the bond will allow in its fragile state, trying to get her attention by pulling at it and shouting her name, but none of his attempts breach the storm of panic.

“She needs me,” he mutters to himself, stepping forward with clenched fists. His vision narrows until all he can see is the door in front of him, an obstacle that must be dealt with. “She needs my help.”

“Wait,” Bo-Katan calls out, but her voice sounds as if it’s coming from thousands of miles away. “Ahsoka isn’t finished with the warding yet!”

If he were capable of rational thought in that moment, he would have heeded her warning. As it is, he summons his power into the palm of his hand, the darkness inside of him crowing in wicked delight. He winds his arm back, preparing to slam his fist against the door, only for a whipcord to wrap around his wrist with an audible zip.

He’s pulled backwards onto the ground, breath knocked from his lungs as he lands with a heavy thud. Bo-Katan appears not a second later and pins him in place by straddling his waist. The darkness is demanding he push her aside, knowing with absolute certainty the reaper is no match against him, and it takes all his strength to wrestle the urge under control.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She glares at him, eyes resembling green flames eager to incinerate him.

“I—” he rasps, breathing heavily. His hand starts trembling, a burning itch under his skin. “I can feel her fear. She needs me.”

Bo-Katan blows out a long, frustrated breath. “Well, shit.” She jostles him then, forcing his head to momentarily clear as his helmet smacks the ground. “Look, soulmates are soulmates for a reason, right? I heard it’s like being two halves of the same whole. So if your soulmate is anything like you, she’s not going to give up without a fight. You have to trust she can take care of herself right now. That she’ll be fine.”

Din bristles. Trust is not the issue here. There is no one he trusts more than his angel—not Bo-Katan, not Ahsoka, not even Kuiil. The issue is he’s being asked to deny the instinct to shield her from danger which is woven into every cell of his being.

“She’ll be fine.” The words come out sounding sharp around the edges, cutting his tongue like shrapnel. “Everything will be fine.”

Bo-Katan disconnects the whipcord and rises to full height, apparently satisfied by his agreement. Din pushes himself onto his feet at a slower pace, his hand still shaking as if it's electric. He looks down at it, noticing for the first time the flesh is gone, replaced entirely by shadow. His expression tightens as he observes the change, realizing the black tendrils are slowly creeping up towards his wrist.

An alarm rings out, reverberating off the canyon walls like an explosion. Din’s gaze snaps up just as Ahsoka lands on the ground in a defensive crouch. Now that it's been fully unveiled, the door bears a striking resemblance to ones he’s seen at military fortresses across the galaxy, ridiculously massive to intimidate enemies and impenetrable from outside attacks. It makes sense, he thinks with a scoff, someone as power-hungry as Gideon claiming an abandoned base as their lair. Without the wardings, Din is able to detect the massive number of souls gathering on the other side, resembling vermin crawling over one another in their haste to arm themselves.

He searches for his angel’s soul, even just a glimpse of her bright light, only for his powers to instead encounter a massive cloud of dark, negatively-charged energy within a distant corner of the underground tunnel system. It fills an entire room, prohibiting him from sensing if anyone is inside. There is something strangely familiar about the energy, like he’s encountered its essence before, but he can’t recall the specifics of when or where.

“It’s time.”

Ahsoka’s voice reels his focus back to his physical surroundings. He notices the way her grip on her sabers tightens in anticipation and out of the corner of his eye Bo-Katan withdraws her blasters from their holsters.

The bottom of the door begins to raise with an earsplitting groan, but the mercenaries only wait the minimum amount of time it takes to pass under without hitting their heads to start charging forward.

Every mortal has a beginning and an end just like everything else in the galaxy. These mercenaries are no exceptions, having long sealed their fates when they agreed to accept Gideon’s payment. So when Din’s shadowy hand phases through a man’s chest and tears his heart out of its cavity, staining the white salt under their feet crimson as blood bursts from the vacant hole, Din tells himself he’s simply fulfilling destiny.

He repeats it when he discharges an assault of whistling birds, each one puncturing the throats of each target they encounter with a shrill warcry. And also when he rips a devaronian’s horn out of his head, a fragment of skull and bits of brain matter still gruesomely attached.

Again and again, with each permanently silenced voice and every shattered fragile bone, destiny is fulfilled.

Din would be lying if he said he’s never wondered what it would be like to die. To pass on from this world into a new realm for him to explore. He’s imagined the idyllic afterlife mortals have written poems and novels about, describing it as a blissful safe haven where sorrow and tragedy have no definition because they do not exist. He’s familiar with their opinions of damnation’s appearance, too, as an infernal place of fire and brimstone and screaming.

They were wrong about that.

Damnation is not a distant hell. It is found in an underground lair on Crait.

Instead of flames and sulfur, a Cupid’s blood is split and a soulmate bond is snapped in half.

Instead of screaming, a madman laughs.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” Gideon says through his chuckles, hauling himself onto his feet. His voice is an abrasive rasp, as if he’s shredded his vocal cords by screaming. “I’ve had to be patient, wait to find your weakness so I could catch your attention. It’s a shame, really, she had to be the one you fell for. She was quite the little spitfire.”

Din stares at his soulmate’s motionless body, frozen in place. Please, he pulls at his severed half of the bond, resolutely ignoring how cold it feels. Open your eyes, angel. Don’t leave me. Please.

There is no response. Just heartbreaking silence.

“I sense your anger, your hurt, and grief. Those are mortal emotions.” The Seraph grimaces in disgust, then lets out a low hiss when he agitates the wounds on his face. “By living amongst their kind you’ve forgotten your true potential. You are not their equal, Death. You are their superior. Immortals are meant to be better than them. To rule over every aspect of their pitiful lives.”

“I don’t want to rule anyone,” Din says, dragging his eyes away from his angel to glare at Gideon. Both his hands begin to shake as his mind plunges into a gaping abyss of remorse and despair. “I just want a life with her.”

“Even dead, she continues to blind you.”

Din snarls viciously in response. His control is pushed closer to the brink, holding on by mere fingertips, and darkness engulfs the entire room as a result.

The glow of the Darksaber persists, reflecting off his beskar and Gideon’s armor. It reminds him of moonlight, and he thinks for all that Bo-Katan warned him about the weapon’s sinful qualities, she did not mention its beauty. Even Ahsoka’s vision had failed to truly capture its radiance, just as a holovid can never compete with a face-to-face conversation.

His powers are drawn to the Darksaber. The energy it emits matches the one encountered earlier when searching the tunnels for his angel’s aura. This close, there is no ignoring its familiarity, not when his brain feels seconds away from exploding.

“I used to believe love conquers all,” Gideon prattles on, seemingly oblivious to Din’s torment. “I chose it as the Cupid motto because I thought there was nothing mortals cared more about than the health and happiness of their loved ones. Only after our fateful encounter did the Lightsaber reveal to me the truth.”

Lightsaber? Din’s head jerks up to stare at him, biting back a wince when the throbbing in the back of his mind intensifies at the movement. Does Gideon not realize the weapon has transformed?

By connecting Ahsoka’s claim that Gideon didn’t fully understand the consequence of corrupting the Lightsaber with Bo-Katan’s explanation that the Darksaber deceives its wielder, the answer is an obvious one: he doesn’t.

Gideon mistakes Din’s confusion for interest and his lips slowly curl into a smile. “Mors aeterna. It means—”

“Death is eternal.” The translation slips unbiddenly from Din’s lips before he even realizes his mouth has opened.

“There is no one more feared or respected than you. But for what reason? What have you done to earn your reputation?” Gideon demands, spit flying as his anger flares. “You are no more than the universe’s favorite puppet. Mindlessly obedient to its every demand.”

Hearing the truth always hurts, but hearing it from Gideon is especially torturous. Din’s creed to the universe has dictated his actions the entirety of his existence. He never fought against its orders, never thought of his own desires as more important than what it wanted.

Until he matched with his soulmate. She changed his priorities and shifted the center of his entire world by revealing to him even Death could experience love.

There had been no hesitation when he broke his creed for her.

And he doesn’t hesitate breaking Ahsoka’s promise now.

“I just murdered your soulmate right in front of you and you do nothing. Did you ever love her at all?”

“I do.”

Din summons every trace of power and darkness he possesses and combines them together within his core—a volatile, pulsating mass of pure chaos. His beskar armor starts to crack and chip away, unable to withstand the increasing pressure.

He thinks of his angel’s smiling face, the sound of her laughter, how bright her soul shines, and he thinks all those things are gone now. Not even a chance to say goodbye.

“More than anything.”

And Death lets go.

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#death and an angel #my fic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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mianavs · 4 years

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meeting the zoldycks pt. 1

part 7 of Cathexis

a/n: we’re finally here~ splitting this up into 2 parts to make it more readable.

wc: 2.2k

Cathexis

Pangs of pain from your leg jostled you awake to a foreign room. With your instincts kicking in, you tried moving only to realize your right leg was in a hard cast and the events that led to your injury replayed in your head ending with the feel of Illumi’s strong arms carrying you to his car.

Your eyes examined the dimly lit but well-furbished room for a hint that would dispel the growing fear in your chest regarding your whereabouts only to watch a Zoldyck butler come in with a tray of medical supplies that included a syringe needle.

Before you could utter a word, the young female butler set down the tray and rushed out of the room.

Anxious, you dragged your body to the edge of the bed and ignored the growing ache in your leg. Just when you were about to set your legs over the edge, purple bruising on your arm caught your eye and halted your progress. Darting your eyes up to the syringe needle the butler brought in, your mind pieced together everything and the realization you’d been sedated broke your composure.

Like clockwork, the door opened to reveal Illumi who entered the room and closed the door behind him. He approached your bed and trailed his impassive eyes over your form, lingering on your casted leg, before breaking the silence.

“How do you feel?”

“How long have I been here?” Your voice was hoarse from disuse but that didn’t stop the questions spilling from your lips. “Why am I here? What happened to bodies? Where’s my phone?”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed the slightest before repeating his question but you disregarded his question yet again.

“I need to get out of here. Ruo Wen is prob—”

Illumi’s bloodlust cut you off as the air in the room seemed to thicken and your surroundings blurred until all you could focus on was the man before you. Beads of cold sweat dotted your skin as fear coursed through your veins in the presence of such malicious Ren. You were trembling like a leaf when Illumi spoke once again.

“How. Do. You. Feel?”

You opened you mouth to speak but nothing came out as your eyes remained fixed on Illumi’s. As if he was pleased with your shaken state of mind, the bloodlust receded and your vision and breathing returned to normal.

“…F-fine! I’m fine…can I go now?” You sputtered, still reeling from the malice that’d permeated the air seconds ago.

Illumi quirked his head. “Not in this state. Your leg needs to heal completely.”

“I can recover at home just as easily.”

Illumi’s face twisted into an eerie smile. “After your little incident, I don’t think I can trust you being on your own—at least not like this.” His eyes trailed to your injured leg and your face flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of your defeat against Saul’s men.

“It was your fault he came for me.” You muttered, avoiding Illumi’s haunting gaze.

“I know. That’s why I took the job to kill him.” He replied absent-mindedly.

“So, you weren’t tracking me?” You cringed at how the question sounded but one look at Illumi’s oblivious face eased your embarrassment.

“No, I knew you were in Meteor City and, after reading up on his recent movements, I figured he would try to harm you.”

You were quiet as Illumi’s words sunk in. Despite the twisted reasoning behind it, you had to admit he’d saved your life and you were grateful. Besides, he was right regarding your current state; you wouldn’t be able to work with your leg in a cast. If you stayed at the Zoldyck mansion, you wouldn’t have to worry about medical bills, treatment, food, or running into your parent’s if they happened to drop by your condo.

“I’ll stay here until my leg heals but—”

“I’ll be sure to compensate you for your injuries and for the time you won’t be working.” Illumi dug into his pocket and fished out your phone before handing it to you. “Your boss called you a couple days ago.”

Scrolling through your missed calls, you looked up to ask the question you’d first asked him only to see Illumi closing the door behind him. The curse on your lips died when a notification from your bank confirmed the deposit of your compensation and you lied back down with a sigh before closing your eyes and going back to sleep.

It was a week after the incident when boredom lured you out of your room with the help of the crutches Canary brought you. While Illumi was on a mission, Canary had been the one tending to your needs and providing her companionship while you recovered. You quickly grew fond of the younger girl and appreciated her friendly personality. However, you couldn’t suppress your hunter instinct any longer and decided to roam the mansion in search for intel on Illumi and the Zoldycks.

As you hobbled down the hallways of the mansion, you noticed they were as dimly lit as your room with only a few lamps adorning the stone walls. You couldn’t help but chuckle how much the home reflected the ominous reputation of its inhabitants.

The possibility of running into one of the Zoldycks was one that you welcomed regardless of how dangerous it seemed. You needed to know more about the other family members—particularly Silva and Zeno—and what better way than to do it face to face.

Just when your arms began to ache after wandering for what seemed like an hour, a flash of white hair from the corner of your eyes caught your attention and you found yourself face to face with the third son, Killua Zoldyck.

You froze, unsure of what to say to the boy, but spoke when he turned around to head in the opposite direction.

“Wait! Do you know where I can rest?” Holding your breath until he turned, you plastered a pained smile on your face and leaned against the wall. “I think I overdid it.”

He was entirely different from Illumi. Where Illumi was inscrutable, you could see a myriad of emotions on Killua’s face that ranged from surprise, confusion, and finally concession. With an exasperated sigh, he closed the distance between you.

“There’s a small library nearby. Follow me.” His tone was harsh but he walked slowly enough for you to keep up with him.

The library was brighter than the hallways, with a large window letting sunlight stream in. It was fairly large with several bookcases filled with books, a couples of lounge chairs, a table, and a lit fireplace. The room was almost cozy and you let out a sigh of relief when you collapsed on the comfortable chair. Killua took your crutches and leaned them against your armrest before taking a seat in the adjacent to you.

“Thank you…” Debating whether or not to call him by his name, you trailed off only for Killua to interject.

“Killua.” He sounded hesitant but curious, nonetheless. “You’re my brother’s fiancé aren’t you.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m not his fiancé yet. I still have a couple months left of freedom.” Adding the last bit to feel out the nature of his relationship with Illumi, you were pleased to hear the chortle that escaped the Killua.

“Guess I’m not the only one who finds Illumi suffocating.” The sadness in his eyes betrayed his joking tone and you wondered just how suffocating Illumi’s presence was to his younger brother. “So how did you get hurt?”

You told him about Rivero’s death, your job in Meteor City, and the encounter with Saul and his men ending in their deaths at the hand of Illumi. Killua was quick to point out Illumi as the root cause of your accident and you quickly found yourself warming up to him.

“Illumi will kill anyone who interferes with his plans. He also likes to control those around him.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You said and rubbed the back of your neck where Illumi’s needle had once been embedded. “Sounds like you don’t agree with his ways.”

Killua visibly tensed and you wondered if you went too far. Just when you were going to backtrack, Killua’s body deflated in defeat before scanning the room for intruders despite being the only two people present.

“Illumi and my father expect me to be an assassin for the rest of my life but I don’t want to keep killing people.” Killua admitted, fidgeting with the material of his shorts.

“And what do you want to do?”

Killua’s eyes widened as they met yours and you couldn’t help but feel for the younger boy. “I…I want to have fun.”

You reached over and placed your hand over his. “Then you should go and have fun. This is our only life so we should do the things we want to do—not what other’s want us to do.”

“Then why don’t you try to break off things with Illumi. If it’s contract-based then there should be ways to null it.”

Watching Killua wrack his brain for ways to break off your betrothal caused a surge of warmth to spread across your chest. He was nothing like Illumi or the rumors that circulated regarding the Zoldycks and you felt grateful to have met him first. With your mind clouded by emotions, you let your guard down even more and opened your mouth to tell Killua about your plan.

“Actually, my parents and I are—”

The door swung open to reveal an old man with white hair. You raised your guard and shut your mouth as Zeno Zoldyck shuffled over to you and Killua. With the opportunity to find out more about the Zoldycks and your marriage deal before you, the corners of your mouth rose to mimic a shy smile and you lowered your gaze.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Zoldyck.”

You looked up to find him sitting next to Killua as he regarded you before smirking. “I’m sure you are.”

He saw behind your smile and sugar-coated words but you continued the façade to avoid a confrontation you weren’t ready for. “Thank you for allowing me to recover in your home, Mr. Zoldyck, and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Call me Zeno,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Mr. Zoldyck is my son. As for your stay, it’s no inconvenience, after all, this will be your home soon enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth. You felt helpless in front of the man responsible for your betrothal and the urge to leave the mansion returned.

“How has your recovery been?”

“Huh?”

The question brought you back from your thoughts and you found Zeno studying your face the way Illumi did only you could see a twinge of genuine interest in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s been going well. My leg is almost completely healed thanks to Canary’s care.”

Zeno smiled at the mention of the young butler. “It’s good to hear Canary has served you well.”

“Did Illumi ask you for Canary?” Killua interjected but Zeno merely chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I offered her up when I heard what happened to Y/N.” Zeno then turned to you. “You see, Canary is under my supervision and, as your grandfather’s granddaughter, I wanted to make sure you were cared for.”

Zeno’s words caught you off guard. You’d always assumed Zeno hated your deceased grandfather for the large debt, so finding out that he personally sent one of his butlers to attend you was a revelation you hadn’t expected.

“Were you close with my grandfather?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t have lent him so much money if we weren’t” The old man laughed while you tried to make sense of the information you’d been given.

“I just assumed you held a grudge against him for the massive amount of debt.” You admitted, hoping Zeno would disclose more.

“Perhaps at one point I did, but he was a good friend despite his poor money management skills. Illumi told me he got into debt with other people and that you and your parents are paying off that debt.”

Your throat closed at the mention of the “other debt” lie you’d told Illumi. It wasn’t that you weren’t prepared to recount the lie to Zeno or the other Zoldycks but the way he said it, made you doubt it’s effectiveness.

Gone was the geniality on Zeno’s face as his eyes searched for a chink in your armor that he could exploit. Knowing you were on thin ice, you played off your surprise as embarrassment over the large amounts of debt your late grandfather owed others which seemed to get Zeno off your tail.

Killua saved you by changing the topic to your work experience as a hunter and you were more than happy to oblige with tales of your jobs from the most difficult, interesting, and just flat out weird. Killua seemed to enjoy your tales while Zeno would nod occasionally to show he was listening but never commented. Eventually, Killua asked about the Hunter Exam but just then a knock on the door interrupted you and the door swung open to reveal Gotoh, one of the butlers you were familiar with, who informed Zeno that dinner was being served.

“You should join us, Y/N.” Zeno declared and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. “My son and his wife would like to meet you.”

#illumi x reader #illumi fanfic #illumi x you #hxh #hxh fanfic #illumi x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh x you #illumi #illumi zoldyck #hunter x hunter #hxh x y/n #killua #killua zoldyck #zeno zoldyck #ongoing fic #slow burn #navs.hxh #navs.cathexis

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god1ngs · 3 years

Note

-Zootopia Arc Pt. 4-

(Techno doesn’t know Steve in this)

From the DMV, the duo came across the abandoned car. Techno quickly collecting evidence while Fundy goofed off. Techno quirked an eyebrow in confusion seeing the fox panic. The car belonged to Tundra town’s big crime boss Bones. ‘Bones, this is a simple-‘ Fundy paused, seeing the axolotl hybrid push out aer hand, expecting a kiss. The fox moving swiftly to complete the task, nerves not lessening in the slightest. Techno eyes narrowing, following the movement. ’This is a simple misunderstanding’

‘You come here unannounced on the day my child is to be married’ Bones spoke with a slow pace. ‘Well actually we were brought here against our will so…’ Fundy let out an awkward chuckle, curling in on himself. ‘Point is I-I didn’t know it was your car and I did not know about your kid’s wedding.’

‘I trusted you, I welcomed you into my home. We broke bread together, grand mama made you cannolis and how did you repay me? With a rug made from the but of a skunk. A skunk but rug. You disrespected me and my grand mama. Who I buried in that skunk butt rug.’ Techno’s bunny ears were flat against his head; he knew it was something bad but not a rug made of a skunk’s ass. Steve, a polar bear & one of Bone’s bodyguard brought a hand to their forehead, proceeding to make the motion of a cross.

‘I told you to never show your face around here again but here you are snooping around with this’ Finally glancing at Techno, Bones asked, ‘what are you? A performer? What’s with the costume?’ Not realizing Techno’s occupation to which Fundy attempted to lie like a sly fiend. ‘I am a co-a pol-‘

‘He's a mime, a mime. This mime cannot speak, can’t speak if you’re a mime’ barring his teeth.

‘No I am a cop. And I’m on the James Marriott case. And my evidence puts him in your car, so intimidate me all you want, I’m going to find out what you did to that otter if it’s the last thing I do’ Bones, blankly staring, ‘And I only have one request, say hello to grand mama. Ice ‘em.’ Steve and another polar bear, Raymond picked up the duo holding them above frozen water. Guaranteed to cause hypothermia fast. Faeri, in an ethereal outfit, decked to the nines walked into to grab their parent for a dance. The outfit allowing their wings to be on display, the surrounding fabric catching the light. Callahan, a faun hybrid & Faeri’s wife was waiting for the duo’s return by the side of the dance floor. They both knew there’d be a slight chance Bones’ work would interfere with the wedding.

’It’s time for our dance,’ pausing when they saw Techno and Fundy suspended in air. Unsure, they thought the bunny looked familiar.

‘What did we say? No icing anyone at my wedding!!’ Faeri, a barn owl elytrian hybrid had spent weeks preparing for this day, marrying the love of their life Callahan. They had met when Callahan was foraging for food in the forest and Faeri was taking a short cut to get home.

Techno had saved Faeri from being crushed by a statuesque donut a few days prior. His original goal was to stop a weasel after robbing a storefront. ‘I had to baby.’

‘Wait, wait, wait! He’s the bunny who saved my life yesterday. The giant donut.’

‘This bunny?’ turning to face Techno, ‘Yea, hi.’ Techno giving a meek wave returned the greeting. ‘Your outfit, it’s…nice.’

‘Thank you!’ Now knowing that this bunny hybrid had save aer owlet, ordered voi bodyguards to let them down.

‘You’ve done me a great service. I will help you find the otter. I will take your kindness and pay it forward’ Gesturing for Techno to come closer, placing a kiss on both cheeks. Turning a pale pink, matching his hair. Fundy now the shocked one. Sitting at a table, the duo watched as Callahan and Faeri danced an off kilter waltz, celebrating their love for one another. As if they were off in their own little world.

Techno accepting a piece of cake, poked his tiny fork, taking a bite. ‘Marriott is my florist, he’s like a part of the family. He had something important he wanted to discuss, that’s why I sent that car to pick him up. But it never arrived.’ Fundy looking anywhere but Bone’s direction. ‘Because it was attacked’ Techno attempted to finish Bone’s sentence.

‘No he attacked’

‘Marriott?’

‘Marriott,’ nodding, ‘he went crazy, ripped up the car, scared my driver half to death and disappeared into the nigh’

‘But he’s a sweet little otter’

‘My child, we might have evolved but deep down we are still animals’

-Origins Fox

CRIME BOSS BONES YOOOOO

#bones txt #o!fndy anon my beloved <3

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askmerriauthor · 3 years

Text

Jedi: Fallen Order thoughts 1/?

So, having just finished what is apparently a canon entry into the current Star Wars lore, I'm left with some feelings about the story itself and some choices it made as a game. Spoilers after the jump.

I mean, it's a really impressive tech demo?

The game's developers are clearly trying to flaunt a lot of really impressive visuals and dynamic elements within the game. Some work, some don't. They're seemingly very proud of their lighting engine, the main character's hair rendering, the "no loading screen" transition between zones. All of which are commendable and fairly impressive on a technical matter. The problem shows up when they actually manage to interfere with the story, or when the game gets too big for its own britches. Some graphics-heavy areas looked amazing while others - the Wookie planet of Kashyyyk in particular - choked my XBone to the point that it rendered out a stuttering slide show and actually hard crashed my entire system.

So, like, presentation first. We'll discuss the story after that.

The game is very pretty, no doubt there. Excellent visuals and a number of specific scenes - done in mid-gameplay rather than as cutscenes - were genuinely impressive cinematic beats. There's two particular dream/hallucination scenes where our main character, Cal, has the entire setting around him transition smoothly into a different scenario as the player sweeps the camera around back into view and they both were used to great impact. There's a handful of moments where the game itself takes camera control away from the player to help tell the story as the player controls Cal's movements as well, and those are each stand-out beats. It's obvious there's a lot of intention behind this game to make something evocative, and I really appreciate that.

The story is the stumbling point, however, as well as how the presentation gets in the way of the narrative.

Ostensibly, "Fallen Order" tries to tell a found family tale where a group of misfits full of their own hang-ups and trauma come together to defy the odds and achieve something greater. Solid base right from the get-go. Love the trope, love the stories it can tell. The trouble is that "Fallen Order"'s dynamic loading system directly contradicts that story. Throughout ambient dialogue chatter given off by Cal throughout gameplay, the impression is given that he's spending time with the cast and developing that found family relationship. Idly talking about how he questions the cooking skill of the ship's pilot, or downtime spent alongside his fellow former Jedi on the ship. The issue is that the game's presentation never gives any opportunity for that to happen at all. The game's camera is perpetually set just over Cal's shoulder and never leaves his immediate presence. There's no point where the audience's view slips away in a "fade to black" transition where time passes unseen, or where we hop over to a completely different part of the story to see what another character or villain is up to. The only time the camera ever directly leaves Cal is to show the establishing shot of the ship or room he's currently inside and about to step out of.

There's no point of time where we're not directly observing Cal, so it becomes really obvious that, no, you sure as hell didn't question the pilot's cooking or spend time with your fellow Jedi because we've been here with you the entire time. Hell, Cal doesn't ever actually eat at all during the game and because there's no day/night cycle or transitionary period in the narrative, it makes it seem like the entire story takes place over a single day. The narration and dialogue wants to tell us that this is all taking place over a long period of time, and that these characters have off-screen interactions. But the actual presentation of the game itself completely defies that.

Like, for instance, something Star Wars itself does in its other forms of media is give moments where the scene wipes away, often when characters are traveling into Hyperspace. It's assumed by we the audience that the characters are doing stuff in the meantime of travel, like Obi-wan training Luke with a targeting droid or Chewie losing a board game. "Fallen Order" wants to show off its seamless loading times and has the entire process of choosing a destination, traveling to it, and arriving done completely on-screen in real time with no cuts. So the game itself unintentionally yet actively prevents us from having any reasonable point where we could assume the characters are having downtime moments together.

It just ends up being a really wonky choice as far as direction is concerned and, in the end, I suppose it can be overlooked. Anyone who really wanted to speculate on the found family dynamic of the characters could very easily just set aside the actual gameplay, after all.

As for the actual story itself, it's... I don't know. Meh? It's there, it happens, it's apparently canon. But the problem is that it's 100% pointless because the events of the story are entirely self-enclosed, do absolutely nothing to progress the setting, and firmly entrench the status quo at the end. Basically if Disney wanted to use any of these characters or events in the future, fans who played this game could go "Ooh, I know who that is!" for a bit of a continuity nod. But, at the same time, Disney could completely ignore "Fallen Order" entirely from here on out and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference to the setting. If you're going to make a canon contribution to a larger pre-existing lore, it should always expand the canon. It should always move things forward or open up different pathways to explore. "Fallen Order" doesn't do that at all. Its story renders itself pointless by the end and basically all the characters spend the entire time getting up to a point where they can have forward momentum... right as the credits roll.

This post is already running very long, so I think I'll save the actual narrative discussion for a follow-up post. I've got a particular bone to pick with the "illusion of choice" method this game uses and I know I can ramble a long while on that alone. I'll link back to this one after it goes up.

#star wars #jedi fallen order

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chestnuttoast · 3 years

Text

Mint Coffee

2.2k words

horror, crime, gore

I never used to be wary of striking up a conversation with someone while standing in the queue at the coffee shop I frequented everyday. Now, though, I think twice. I keep to myself and keep my head down; take my coffee and leave.

There is - as you might expect - a story behind this change. And I intend to tell it. However, I must warn you that this is not one for the faint of heart, and certainly not for the squeamish. That being said, if you wish to hear it then I will continue.

My order was always the same. Iced americano with a shot of mint syrup. An odd order, I know. But once you've tried it you might find you enjoy it. This is an irrelevant detail but while I'm here I might as well recommend my favourite drink to you.

Anyway, I stand in the queue from just before eight o'clock every morning and wait for around fifteen minutes before I get served. I am a creature of habit, and so this suits me just fine.

All of the workers know me by now and will make my drink upon seeing me, along with a cheery greeting and the generic small talk as they get on with their jobs. Usually, I would pass the time by chatting with those around me. Naturally, there would sometimes be those who don't want to chat. I don't force them, and so on those days I stand and mind my own business. This particular day though, the gentleman behind me was more than happy to join me in conversation and we immediately got along well. We just clicked, as people sometimes do.

Before long, I would see him everyday in the coffee shop and we would chat. He had just moved to the city and was grateful to have met me. Said I made him a little less lonely on his morning commute. We gradually became good friends and would meet for drinks after work as well. when we were together a conversation never went dry and so we would spend long hours talking and drinking. Those days were a wonderful respite from the stresses of everyday routine and work.

He was a slight gentleman, no more than his mid-thirties. He wore thick-framed glasses and I never saw him go to work not wearing a long trench coat. I never asked him about it. I just assumed this was one of his habits.

One day, he called me and said he wanted to meet me. It sounded like he just wanted to meet up for drinks as usual and so I readily agreed.

"There's a new bar that's just opened across town." he told me over the phone, "I've looked into it and I think it seems like somewhere perfect for us. It's aimed at those our age, rather than youngsters that just want to go out and get drunk out of their minds." he said with a tentative, dry laugh.

I agreed to meet him after he told me a bit more, and he said we would meet at the train station. When I got there, he was wearing his usual trench coat and we talked for a few minutes while waiting for the train to come. It didn't take long, and we stepped into the first carriage as soon as it arrived.

As it was the subway, it was pretty busy and there was nowhere for us to sit down. "Never mind." I told him. I could use all the exercise I could get if I was to be truthful.

My friend, on the other hand, seemed dissatisfied and walked over to one of the people sat on the seats opposite the door we had stepped into the train through. I assumed he was going to ask if there was any chance they would move. Not something I would have done personally, but I didn't interfere.

Once he was in front of the young man who was sat down, my friend just stopped. I was confused.

Moments later, the young man slumped forwards and my friend stepped to the side to allow him to fall face first onto his side. It took a second for everyone to process what happened. In the time that it took to process these events, the young man on the floor was slowly becoming surrounded by a dark red fluid that we all knew must be his own blood. I suppose none of us wanted to think too deeply about it, though.

I looked to my friend in horror. He must have known I was looking at him, because he turned around and flashed a smile so innocent you would not believe what he had just done if you had not been there.

He had moved faster than any of us in that train carriage had been able to see. Someone rolled the young man on the floor over and there was an obvious gash on his neck. His skin looked so delicate and the wound was so fresh it seemed the slightest movement would tear it further open, letting us see his throat.

By the time anyone had thought to take a look, his heart had long stopped beating and so the blood wasn't being pushed out of his body anymore. There was nothing we could do. This train was moving, and the man standing in the centre of the carriage was highly dangerous and capable. The poor young man was left to lie in that pool of his own blood.

"Take a seat." my friend said to me, still smiling.

Coming to my senses, I realised what he was saying to me. I pretended nothing had happened and politely told him that it was okay; he could have it.

At this his smile faltered and I was struck with a note of fear. There wasn't anything particularly menacing about the change in his expression, but instinct told me it was better to listen to what he was telling me.

"Then, I have to thank you." I said, politely again, as I stepped forward and sat in that seat the young man had previously occupied.

Once I was sitting, I wasn't quite sure what to do. My friend didn't speak to me further but something about him had changed. When he turned around, he brought a blade out of his pocket - this time slow enough that we could see, but still not slow enough to stand a chance of dodging - and drew a diagonal line along the torso of the gentleman that had been leaning against the opposite door when we got on the train, but had now come over to attempt to help.

From the way his shirt slowly coloured, the cut started just above his left hip and went all the way up to the right side of his chest. He looked down at himself lost and unsure what to do. As if he had lagged, he belatedly bent over and clutched his abdomen as if the try and keep the blood from pouring out of him.

Like the young man before - only slower - this gentleman was becoming surrounded by a pool of dark red. If it had been paint, I would have said the colour was beautifully stunning. Here, though, it was a horrific reminder of our fragile mortality and how precariously it sat in this man's hands.

"Hey what was that for?!" I shouted. That man hadn't even been in a seat. "He was just standing!"

My friend turned to face me and walked to stand in front of me. He bent down to look me in the eye, but didn't do anything else. It was odd, I was confused, but I didn't have time to be.

When my friend turned around he saw a woman kneeling beside the man who was bleeding. A moment later, dark red poured from her neck and she slumped forwards. His superhuman speed was impossible to defend against. She was stable on her knees, so when she fell she ended up just with her head on her knees, head rolled slightly to the side exposing the wound on her neck.

A violent urge to vomit rose up in me but I held back.

While this was happening, those who had shared a section with us had been trying to quietly back away or hide. I think there may have been people screaming, but I was so bewildered and out of it at this point that I could not say for sure.

After a few moments I came back to myself and looked around me. The carriage floor was now completely dark red. Very few spots remained the colour they had been when we boarded.

This train was one of the ones that didn't have distinct carriages although from the exterior it looked sectioned. From the interior it was just a long metal tube we all shared for the time being. By now, the rest of the people on the train had seen what was happening and were retreating to the other end of the train.

People stumbled over each other and I watched as a young child got pushed and trampled in the chaos. I could not watch. I was a coward. I turned around to pretend to look out of the windows, but nothing could prevent the screams from reaching my ears. Trying to block them out was useless, I was too aware of them now.

At one point I heard my friend speak. "Give it to me." he demanded. I turned to look and saw a mother with a young baby who had fallen and was too frightened to get back up. She had slipped on some blood on the floor and the lower half of her body was already covered. Unable to speak, she sobbed and clutched the baby in her arms closer to her chest, trying to protect it. But my friend crouched down in front of her and said something too quietly for me to hear. By the time he was done speaking, he was out of patience. Using that superhuman speed of his, he disposed of the mother and took the baby in his arms.

I could only imagine the plans he had for the tiny thing. A part of me wanted to believe he just couldn't bear to hurt it, but my gut told me that was far from the truth.

Despite now cradling a baby, he did not slow down. Once all the passengers reached the end of the train, they were trapped. He had all the targets he could get his hands on.

From where I was sitting I couldn't properly see what he did. The screams were louder for a short while, but very quickly died down. I only know that when we reached the next station, only me and him were left alive.

He never walked back up the train, mind you. Just stayed down there with the carnage he created. Before the doors opened, he looked back at me and winked.

When the doors opened I heard those on the platform scream. The train was in an awful state. Nothing could have prepared those poor souls for this. And I was in the worst position anyone could possibly imagine. Of course, everyone thought I did it.

Not one of them, though, seemed to notice the man cradling a baby that stepped off the train to reveal the pile of bodies he had left behind. It was as though he had not existed.

I had blacked out by the time anyone noticed me, and I woke up very confused and scared inside a cell.

I'd rather not speak about the next few months that passed, but they were hell. Eventually they had to let me go. It became clear that this was not my doing. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However they could not say who did. There was a weapon left behind but the fingerprints on it barely resembled that of a human and were untraceable.

There was a blurry CCTV video of the doors of the train that showed my friend stepping out. No one on the platform noticed him though. When he got to the stairs he went out of view and seemingly vanished. Who or what he was, I may never know.

I did eventually find out through both the news and my own interrogation that at the other end of the carriage, the man had used what seemed to be a sort of whip made from something like barbed wire. Only, each barb was much larger than usual and much sharper. This was a home made weapon and extremely deadly. It could eviscerate a person in the span of a breath.

To this day I have no idea who that man really was, what provoked him or where he went, but I'm the one forced to live with the consequences. Some days I feel it would have been kinder for him to take me too.

That is why now, when I get my coffee every morning, I walk in, grab my drink and leave. I speak to no one other than the cashiers and the workers.

You just never know who you might run into.

#short story #horror #crime #serial killer #gore tw #body horror #death tw #violence tw #murder tw #chestnuttoast short stories #writing

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atomicstrawbrys · 4 years

Text

Sometimes Devils Aren’t That Bad

Warnings: Some cursing, brief mentions of death and alcohol abuse.

Summary: Arthur’s job as an angel is to help his human live a selfless life. Alfred’s job as a devil is to let his human be selfish. Though Arthur may be hesitant to admit it, sometimes being a little bit selfish is okay.

Author’s Note: i wrote this a long time ago and never posted it lmao, but I’ve had a couple people request some angel/demon stuff and that reminded me that this fic exists. enjoy! let me know if you liked it! //

Morals. Standards. Conscience. A general sense of right and wrong. Every human being on earth has one- a code by which they live their lives, a line in the sand which they won’t cross. Whether they admit it or not, a person’s life is entirely based on how okay they are with stepping on others to get what they want. Some listen to that tiny angel on their shoulder and stay on that path of righteousness no matter what temptation comes their way. Some can justify looking out for themselves more than others, and indulge in the earthly pleasures whispered in their ear by their little devil.

Arthur’s job was to be that path of righteousness. Though he didn’t sit directly on his charge’s shoulder -that tidbit of information was misinformed at best- it was his job to help steer his mentee to do the right, honorable thing. He would try his best to put them in situations where they would be encouraged to do good and to collaborate with other angels to bring them into contact with holier, wiser influencers on earth.

His...colleague...Alfred’s job was to do the opposite. Alfred, for all his charm, was a devil, one who thrived on encouraging nasty habits and trying to get their human involved with a bad crowd. Alfred was the perpetual thorn in Arthur’s side, made only worse by the fact that they spent nearly every moment together. If he was on one side of their human, Alfred was on the other, trying to get them to do the opposite of whatever Arthur encouraged. And the worst of it all was the fact that Alfred seemed to think it was so funny to get him worked up. Alfred never suggested the human do anything too bad, not really, but it was the little things that drove Arthur absolutely mad.

This was one of those little things. Their charge, Matthew, was sitting on his bed, phone in his hands. He was a teenage boy, just sixteen, and thankfully had not had to make any of the tough moral decisions in life yet. He was a kind, gentle and soft-spoken boy who believed in being a good person, and for that Arthur was grateful. However...he was also a teenager, and teenagers were notorious for pushing their boundaries and sometimes putting a toe across that line in the sand, just to see what would happen. Arthur was not very grateful for that.

“Come onnn!” Alfred whined, lying on his back on Matthew’s bedroom floor. “What’s the worst that could happen! Just text him back and say you’ll go!” Matthew, of course, could not see nor hear Alfred directly- instead, the essence of his words swirled in the back of his mind, nagging at him. Ultimately it was Matthew’s decision, but both his guardians had a gentle pull. Arthur sat in the chair at Matthew’s desk, turned to face the two of them. He lightly kicked Alfred’s side.

“Matthew has a history test tomorrow, and history is his worst subject! He needs to stay home and study, so he can get a good grade and have a future!”

Alfred snorted, looking up at him with blue eyes that always gleamed with mischief. “So what? His life isn’t gonna be determined by one little test. Besides, he really likes Gilbert, why not jump at the chance to go out with him?”

Arthur rubbed his temples with a frustrated groan. “Because Gilbert is a bad influence. He skips school, he disrespects his teachers, he drinks and has parties every weekend, and he’s definitely not going to go to college…” He shook his head. “No. No, I won’t let him influence Matthew into throwing away his future.”

The devil only shrugged and shifted his gaze from the angel over to his charge. He grinned, a little. “Sorry, Babe. Looks like Matthew’s going out.”

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me- wait, what?!” Arthur sat up quickly, feathers on his wings ruffling.

“Yep! Text has been sent, Gil’s probably already on his way,” Alfred teased lightly, sticking out his tongue. “Suck it, Artie. Matt’s having fun.” The smile on his lips was good-natured, but, Arthur wasn’t amused. He simply huffed, crossing his arms and glowering.

“If you think for one second I am going to just stand by and let this happen!” He got up, pacing back and forth across the room. “Do you enjoy it? Destroying someone’s life before they even get a chance to live it? He’ll start drinking and partying like Gilbert and soon his grades will slip and he’ll drop out of school and he’ll work a dead-end job for the rest of his life until he tries to rob a bank and dies in the shootout!” Arthur’s chest heaved, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He retched, and the shit-eating grin on Alfred’s lips fell away into concern.

“Woah. Woah- do you really think that’s what’s gonna happen?” Alfred stood, walking to him and placing a hand on his arm. “Arthur, relax. We’ll go with them, okay? We won’t interfere, we’ll just..keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid. I promise I won’t egg him on.”

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping. “...Promise?” When Alfred nodded, he seemed to relax. Just a little. “Fine. But I’m doing all I can to get him out of there if things go wrong.” Alfred conceded to that.

Arthur did have to admit that, when Gilbert showed up to the door with flowers, it was...a sweet gesture. One that Matthew seemed to like quite a bit. And, well...Gilbert’s plans for the date seemed innocent enough, too. A trip to the park, a bite to eat, and home before nine. Though Arthur wasn’t sure Gilbert would stick to his ‘plan’ -it could all be a lure to get Matthew into the car- it did sound nice.

As the group of four headed out to the car, Alfred plucked a rose from Matthew’s bouquet. Neither Matthew nor Gilbert noticed- the bouquet hadn’t changed, not for them. Alfred had simply conjured up a replica. He held it out to Arthur, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“A rose for my rose,” The demon cooed, tucking the flower behind Arthur’s ear. Arthur made all the appropriate protests and indignant squawks, but ultimately he didn’t take it out. He supposed he could humor Alfred, just for a bit. He liked flowers, after all.

The two of them didn’t ride in the car with Matthew and Gilbert, but they did fly overhead. Gilbert was true to his word and drove them straight to the local park. It was a beautiful evening- The lights strung in the trees were on, the fountain was bubbling, and the afternoon crowd was gone. A few people walked up and down the paths and enjoyed the park's amenities, and Arthur found the atmosphere overall quite cozy.

“See? The world isn’t falling apart yet.” Alfred teased lightly, as they watched Matthew and Gilbert embark on one of the nature trails. “They’re just kids, let them live a little.”

Sighing, Arthur watched as Matthew disappeared into the park’s adjoining forest. He...he wouldn’t go. He’d let Matthew have some privacy -the walks only took ten or fifteen minutes anyway, they weren’t long- he’d be back soon. He’d be back soon. Arthur took a deep breath, and he sat down on one of the benches, head in his hands.

“Arthur, you’ve gotta learn to relax.” Alfred sighed as he sat down next to him, rubbing the angel’s shoulders. “We’re not his parents- we just give him a little nudge.” He shot Arthur a crooked smile. “We’re like his really, really distant uncles. I’m the cool one with the motorcycle, and you’re the lame, strict one who went to Yale.”

Arthur peeked at Alfred through his fingers, and couldn’t help but give a little laugh. “Well. At least I went to Yale.”

“Yeah! And you know, you could have, if we were human. You’re definitely smart enough.” Alfred playfully elbowed his side, reaching over and gently prying Arthur’s hands away from his face. Arthur was smiling underneath them, and Alfred’s breath caught. His cheeks flushed red, just the slightest bit, but before he could say anything more, the chime of a bell seemed to catch his attention.

Alfred turned, and Arthur looked over his shoulder to see what it was. An ice cream cart rolled along the path, and Alfred grinned, letting go of Arthur’s hands. “Oho! It’s our lucky day, Art. What flavor do you like?” He asked, already halfway to the little stand. Arthur didn’t even get the chance to think of what he wanted before Alfred came back with two chocolate scoops on cones, the ice cream man none the wiser. Though Arthur supposed he should probably scold Alfred for leaving in the middle of conversations or for conjuring things whenever he wanted, he couldn’t find it in him. It wasn’t hurting anyone, and, hell, chocolate was his favorite.

They sat together, talking and joking around until Gilbert and Matthew appeared at the other end of the nature walk, holding hands and laughing. Arthur jumped to his feet, throwing the rest of his ice cream in the trash. “They’re back!” He said with glee, turning back to the demon. Alfred nodded.

“They’re back.” He replied, seeming oddly disappointed. “On to the next stop, I guess.”

Though Alfred’s reaction confused him, Arthur didn’t have the time to worry about it. He fluttered back to his charge and breathed a sigh of relief when Matthew seemed happy and unharmed.

“He’s okay!” Arthur called as Alfred flew over.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

Arthur just rolled his eyes, falling in step behind the humans on the way back to Gilbert’s car. He noticed that Alfred wasn’t really following as closely, and, to his great surprise, that...upset him. He turned to face him and waved him over. The attention seemed to cheer him up, at least a little.

Gilbert did not take Matthew anywhere fancy for dinner. It wasn’t fast food at least- instead, it was a cheap diner that specialized in an all-day breakfast. It was...a good choice. Gilbert and Matthew settled down in a booth, as did Alfred and Arthur, though they settled down on the other side so that the others would have space.

Alfred sat down in front of Arthur and slid him a stack of pancakes over the table, having nicked a copy from another booth. He smiled, lopsided. “Well? Have you changed your mind? They seem happy.”

Arthur cut into his stack, looking over the restaurant at his charge. “I..suppose they haven’t dropped out of school and gotten matching face tattoos. Perhaps Gilbert...wasn’t as bad as I thought he was.”

Alfred smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course he wasn’t. I wouldn’t let Matthew go out with him if he was. And..you know, Arthur..I’m not so bad, either. I know I’m a devil and all that, but I’m not trying to like, turn Matthew into a murderer or anything. I like the kid- I want what’s best for him. I just want him to have fun every once in a while, too. I want him to be able to loosen up.” Alfred gave Arthur a long look. “And he’s not the only one.”

Arthur paused, staring down at his food. His brow creased as he thought, his wings drooping. “Matthew...isn’t my first charge, you know. I’ve had other humans, before..the last one, she was a disaster.” He mumbled, glancing up at Alfred, who had leaned in to listen to him.

“No matter what I did, she was cruel and mean-spirited. She was a bully and a cheat. She was manipulative and aggressive and...I still wanted what was best for her. I tried so, so hard.” His voice trailed off, softening into a whisper. Slowly, Alfred reached over the table and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Arthur didn’t pull away.

“She died young. It was her own fault, really- she would often drink and drive, it’s just a relief she didn’t hurt anyone else when it finally caught up to her. But...I was a failure, Alfred. She was entrusted to me, I was supposed to make her into a good person, but I failed. She died alone, drunk and hated and it was my fault.” Tears dripped onto the cheap, yellowy wood of the tables, and only then Arthur realized he’d begun to cry. Alfred took a moment, to let the information sink in before he responded.

“You know it isn’t your fault.” he sighed. “Deep down, I think you know. Sometimes people are just..like that. All we can do is try our best to help, but sometimes we get people who aren’t ever going to listen. You did everything you could, I know you did because you do now.” Smiling again, softer this time, Alfred laced their fingers together. “Seriously. You’re like a super-angel. I’ve never had to work this hard.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “She might have been determined not to accept help. She might have been awful, but Matthew isn’t. Look at him. He’s a good kid. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Arthur gave a long sigh, looking over the restaurant at Matthew. He really was a good kid. Being kind was just in his nature- he wouldn’t fall down the moment Arthur removed his training wheels. He could..he could manage on his own, now.

“I...suppose you’re right. But..what do I do now, then? If I don’t have to watch him?”

Alfred leaned in a little more. “Let’s...back off.” He suggested, his thumb rubbing over Arthur’s knuckles. “We could kick back, watch Matthew grow up, get married, maybe have kids...our job is easy from here on out. Let’s just relax and let him be the good person he’s gonna be. And then, maybe we could start applying to jobs as a team instead of separately if you want to work together again. We could even hang out more, just us. More days like this, if you want. I’d..I’d really like that, personally.” Arthur met his eyes. Was Alfred blushing?

“You had fun today,” His demon continued. “I know you did. We could have fun again.”

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, words escaping him. He wiped his eyes, then finally nodded. “Okay.”

Alfred beamed.

When they left the diner and headed back to Gilbert’s car, Gilbert announced that he had a surprise third destination for Matthew. He probably wouldn’t be home until ten or eleven if he agreed to go, but Gilbert insisted that he’d have fun and that it wasn’t anything weird. Matthew eventually agreed, and hopped into the passenger side, pressing a little kiss to his date’s cheek.

Arthur stood in the parking lot as the car pulled out, Alfred standing beside him and holding on to his hand.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna go? You don’t want to know what the surprise is?”

Arthur smiled, a bit sadly, and shook his head. “I’m okay. He’s smart, he’ll manage on his own.”

Alfred stepped closer then and wrapped an arm around his angel’s waist. He pressed a kiss to his hair. “He will. You ready to go home?

Nodding, Arthur turned and walked with Alfred, the tail lights of Gilbert’s car fading away behind them.

#usuk #ukus #hetalia #aph #aph england #aph america #hws #hws england #hws america #prucan #on the side #angel #devil #tw alchohol mention #tw death #not character death tho lol #at least not main characters #tw gun

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anystalker707 · 4 years

Text

Lights, camera and fuck off

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem Reader Genre: Fluff/Light angst Requested by @thunderpurple Summary: (Y/n) is an Umbrella Academy actress and her relationship with Gerard isn’t really well seen due to their age gap, but they don’t let all that negativity reach them.

"And what can we expect for The Umbrella Academy's second season?" The interviewer asks with an agonizing smile - there's something in it, giving off the slightest vibe I would describe as devilish, like if wanting to see every artist she interviews breaking under her questions and comments.

My attention doesn't remain on her for too long; I let my eyes fall to my hands that rest over my lap, presuming someone else will answer the question since I was the one who answered a few of the past ones. As supposed, Tom answers it, "well, it's a bit difficult commenting it without giving much spoilers, but it's going to be awesome," his grin is practically audible, kinda letting a mystery in the air with the way he says the last word.

The woman nods, continuing to speak, "also, I presume (y/n)'s going to have more screen time this season, right? Considering the past announcements." Her comment makes me immediately raise my gaze towards her and, if the altered tone while saying the last two wonder wasn't enough, she raises her eyebrows towards me in a sort of sign, glancing at Gerard too.

Gerard looks at her in certain disbelief, taking in a breath to answer. The sight makes her widen her eyes, already eager for the answer covered in annoyance, but I prefer to answer it myself - to not give her what she wants. I put on my best sweet smile, "well, not really. My character continues with the same highlight, she-"

"Um, that's not what I meant," she breathes a fake awkward chuckle, adjusting her glasses. "You probably gained more highlight after getting in a relationship with Gerard, which's, um, quite different from the conventional due to the age gap, what has also been commented a lot lately. Did something change-"

"Sorry," I cut her off, observing her curiously, "but I thought we were here to talk about the series and not anyone's personal life. Please let me know if there's another question like this because, if so, I'm leaving already. That's not what I'm here for. Also, I have a question for you myself. Did all the interviewers secretly agree on a thing of always asking the same questions?" I look at her, with a fake cluelessness over my features, not showing any sign of being intimidated by her.

The interviewer's eyes flicker over me, looking for the joking hint she never finds. Meanwhile, a heavy atmosphere follows the silence the room's set in. By the corner of my eyes, I can see Ellen and Tom share a quick look while Gabriel seems to prefer to not interfere in any way, demonstrating a sudden interest for the floor's patterns. Gerard just sits beside me casually, having an expression that demonstrates he agrees with me.

"Fuck, sometimes it's awful. Why do people act like if it is something from another world?" I raise an eyebrow at Gerard, "sometimes I feel like these people get pleasure in annoying artists and driving them to the edge." It's a bit difficult walking side by side on the relatively narrow sidewalk, but I don't feel like letting go of his hand, cogitating sending glares on whoever comes from the opposite direction so they decide to walk past by the street instead of waiting for one of us to open space. Thankfully it doesn't last long, just until we take a turn to one of more agitated streets.

"Maybe you're right," he presses his lips together, still seeming kind of bothered by the events from earlier. Exhaling, he continues with a blank expression before seeming to brush away all the thoughts, smiling at me instead. "Wanna stop for a coffee?"

Looking past him, I'm able to see a cafe by the other side of the street - grinning, I nod. We're soon sitting in a booth in a quiet corner of the cafe with our orders set in front of us, but momentarily forgotten there as we talk.

"You coming over?" Gerard asks, our hands linked over the table as he plays with my fingers - he softly runs the tip of his fingers over my palm, laughing at my reaction of suddenly closing my hand.

I don't answer at first, playfully glaring at him while rubbing my own fingers over my palm like if rubbing the weird feeling away. He breathes a chuckle, taking my hand in his again, rubbing his thumb over my palm, then turns my hand over to intertwine our fingers together. Wrinkling my nose lightly, I shake my head, briefly tightening my grip on his hand. I let go of it to take my cup of coffee and sip on the warm drink.

"I guess so," I finally answer, mentally reviewing my plans for the rest of the day and tomorrow too, "can I sleep over? Also, there's another interview tomorrow, isn't it?" A light groan leaves my lips at the thought of the tight schedules, a consequence of the next season of the series being released soon - thankfully, we can still spend a great time together, above all.

"Of course." He smiles adorably, sipping on his coffee before continuing, "and, yeah, but then we'll have the rest of the week to ourselves, fortunately. Well," Gerard pauses, tilting his head lightly, "kinda. There's band practice with the guys more towards the end of the week. You could come along, there won't be just the guys and I." As he presses his lips together, his eyes fall to the table - a bit of expectation and insecurity under his 'firm' tone.

"Um, won't I bother?" I furrow my eyebrows, averting my eyes from him and fidgeting with the sleeves of my jacket in another wave of insecurity and anxiety. I'm always doing my best to dodge all the negative comments thrown towards me, but it's not always that I'm keeping the guard up.

Gerard exhales in certain frustration, most likely guessing what's going on in my head. "You never bother, sugar. And you know they like you, so stop worrying." His reassuring voice has an automatic effect on me, making me feel almost completely calmer after hearing his words.

What he said echoes through my mind once again and - though it has happened many other times before - a stupid grin cracks my lips at the same time I blush at being called sugar. It makes me soft and, in a sudden decision, I stand up from my place to sit beside him. Gerard curiously raises an eyebrow at me, but places an arm around me without questioning; I exhale in some kind of relief and comfort as leaning against his side.

Noticing his gaze continues on me, I breathe a chuckle, "I wanna be next to you," I mutter shyly, observing my cup of coffee as blushing more. He lets out an appreciative hum, nuzzling the side of my faze lightly and leaving a peck there - it makes me chuckle louder than expected, shrinking at the feeling of his beard against my skin. Gerard lets out an evil giggle, earning him a playfully offended look from me, one which fades away in the moment he places a kiss on my lips.

Soon enough, we're at his place; I smile as being engulfed by the place's comfortable atmosphere, it's like if it's filled with a warm energy that's the same as his. Before he can notice, I'm already coming back from his room, having changed from my clothes - which weren't so comfortable - and now wearing one of his shirts and a loose pair of shorts I left here last time I was over.

Gerard's serving himself a glass of water when I walk in the kitchen. He probably just notices my presence once I wrap my arms around him from behind, sighing as I rest my head against his back. His free hand rests over mine, holding them. "Want to watch something?" He asks and right after, I can hear the sound of the glass being placed against the counter, but don't want to let go just yet.

"No," I groan quietly, suddenly noticing how tired I am; I just want to lay down and cuddle him. "Not in the mood. We could listen to something, tho."

"Alright. Just let me go change, hm?" He squeezes my hands in a sign for me to let go - I do so, reluctantly, but my mood quickly lightens up with his lips being pressed against mine for a few seconds.

While Gerard disappears in the halls, I throw myself on the couch, sitting in a half-laid-down position as finally allowing myself to relax. I don't think the physical tiredness is actually as big as the mental one every interviewer seems to want to put me under lately. I'm left to wonder how in the fucking hell do details about my personal life affect my work or why is it so interesting to them.

My thoughts are cut off at the same moment soft music starts to fill the room and then there's Gerard approaching me. Looking at him with a lazy smile, I make grabby hands towards him before letting one of my legs hang off the couch, motioning the place in front of me.

He quickly gets what I mean and sits down on the space between my legs, leaning back against me until his head is resting on my chest. I can't hold back a stupid smile - soft moments like this always make me feel have a funny feeling, all happy -, stopping it briefly to press a kiss to his temple. A pleased hum comes from Gerard and I can feel him physically relaxing as I start to run my fingers through his hair.

Moments like this make me think a lot, sometimes. I end up getting both afraid and happy at the same time. Afraid because I love moments like this - and him - so much and I'm afraid of it ending at some point, maybe because of all the people against our relationship, though I won't let their negativity reach us. But happy, on the other had, because I- I don't know, I just don't want these moments to ever end; they make me feel so well. Anyways, I guess it's not the time to fill my head with doubts, just to stick with the last feeling and enjoy every second. After all, no one else can understand all of this the way we do.

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #mcr imagine #gerard way imagine #gerard way x reader #fluff #angst #umbrella academy #imagine #x reader #writing #fan fic #fanficion #fanfic #emo #emo trinity #my post

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peanutbutterworm · 4 years

Text

i love you

here we go!! here is my moreid secret santa fic!

click here to read it on AO3

warnings: none, light angst at one point but it is mostly tooth rotting fluff

word count: 4196

summary: Penelope begs and begs Hotch until he finally lets her have a BAU secret santa party. There is a small problem for Dr. Spencer Reid however when he is set the task of giving a gift to his best friend and crush, Derek Morgan.

“Hotch please?” Penelope drew out the last vowel of the word, as if it would make him say yes.

“I told you, Garcia, it’s out of my hands for now. It sounds like a great idea, really, but I don’t think that Strauss nor the director would approve of it.”

“It doesn’t have to be a work thing! Just, as friends, as a family.”

“And I already told you, Garcia, as long as we’re using company time it is a ‘work thing’.”

“God why does everyone have to be so boring. It’s a bonding thing!” Penelope checked the date on her phone. “It’s November 29th, if we’re not allowed to do this I’m going on strike.”

“Mhm,” Hotch was already moving on to something else, and Penelope left in a huff. She ran into Spencer on the way back to her office.

“Hey Penelope,”

“Hi, Spencer.” She said curtly, storming past him.

“Woah, what’s going on today?” Spencer said, stopping her by grabbing her arm. Penelope sighed, realizing she wasn’t being her cheery self and someone was bound to notice, may as well be him.

“Walk with me, boy genius.” Penelope explained her current predicament on the way to her office, huffing and using her hands to talk the entire way.

“And I don’t get why Strauss won’t allow it! It’s a great team bonding activity, and we would have so much fun!” She finished explaining.

“Garcia, we have fun without ‘team bonding activities’, I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Because, I’m tired of being ignored. I just want one of my suggestions to go through and I’m starting to think Strauss doesn’t like me.”

“I’m pretty sure Strauss doesn’t like any of us,” Spencer said, sipping his coffee from a company mug.

“Yeah I know,” Penelope put her head into her hands and sighed. “Why are they so against us having fun?”

“They think it ‘interferes with the job’” Spencer said, quoting a seminar they were forced to go to.

“Yeah, bullshit.” Penelope half scoffed into her hands, half laughed. “How is it going with Derek?” She asked, smirking up at Spencer. Spencer couldn’t help but turn a little red whenever she asked about him. He had told Penelope about his crush on her best friend in September, and even though it had been going on for much longer Spencer was reminded every day why he didn’t tell her sooner. However Spencer never missed a chance to talk to her about it. Even though Penelope was a huge gossip, she would never tell Derek something this important without asking Spencer for permission first. And anyways, it was nice to get stuff off his chest.

“Nothing has really happened, just still lying awake at night thinking about him instead of doing something productive with my chronic insomnia.”

“How can you be productive with chronic insomnia anyways?”

“I don’t know… do things?” Spencer giggled and then paused, recalling something. “Wait, I do recall, I saw him at the grocery store.”

“No way, you two shop at the same place?”

“Unfortunately. I was too awkward to say anything anyways, and I looked like a mess too.”

“I’m sure he didn’t care. This is the man that saw me almost die and I need not remind you that he has seen you in the hospital. Multiple times.”

“I try not to remember.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“You are so boring,”

“It was late, Garcia. I don’t think I had the patience to deal with anyone, including him, and if you were to ask him I’m pretty sure he would say that feeling’s mutual by how he looked.” Spencer sighed. “He was so pretty though. Like sleepy pretty, not the way we see him at work.”

Penelope was just sitting there, sighing.

“What!” Spencer said, playing with a piece of dirt that was caught between his nails.

“Nothing. You are just so, so fucked.”

“I know!” Spencer dropped it and threw his hands to his face. “He’s just so… AH! I feel like a teenage girl.”

“Considering your looks, you might not be far off.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding, but really, you need to tell him. It’s gotta happen eventually.”

“No, I don’t want to ruin our friendship for my own feelings, it’s selfish.”

“Have you ever considered he might feel the same way?” Penelope asked, and Spencer just stared back at her. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“I just haven’t thought about it, of course it’s a probability but the chance that he likes me back is just so low. Did you know the chance of your crush liking you back is-” Spencer was cut off when Derek walked into the room, right into the middle of a conversation he had no idea was about him.

“Thank you for saving me from that,” Penelope said.

“Hotch needs you both at the round table,” was all Derek said, smirking at both of them.

“We’ll be there soon.” Spencer said, staring as Derek left the room. “Do you think he heard any of that?”

“You talk too fast and I wasn’t really keeping up very well, but no, I don’t think he knows it was about him at the very least.”

“Thank god.” Spencer sighed. “Come on, I don’t want to be yelled at by Hotch again.”

“Guess whatttttt!” Penelope said, with everyone mingling around their desks on a chilly December morning, having not been called in on a case yet for the day.

“Did someone die?” Emily asked, taking a headcount of everyone there, all BAU team members accounted for.

“What? No, oh my god Em. Unrelated to death, we get to have a secret santa!” She exclaimed, and everyone's faces lit up with smiles.

“Strauss thinks it would be good for us to bond over the holidays,” Hotch said, cracking a small smile.

“Yeah yeah, anyways write your names on these,” Penelope all handed them a torn piece of paper, “and put it in the magic hat.” She held out a small colorful beret she sometimes wore to work and mixed up all the names that were placed in it. “Now who wants to go first?” She asked, looking around the room eagerly.

“Can I go, Pen?” JJ asked, walking up to the hat.

“Why of course my dear,” Penelope said, dropping into a bow but making sure none of the names spilled out.

This went on for ten minutes until everyone had someone picked out. Penelope then took the last name out of the hat for herself before snugly fitting the hat back onto her head.

Spencer looked at the slip of paper he had gotten, and in all caps was the name Derek . He reminded himself that there was a 1 in 7 chance. A one in SEVEN chance. Maybe the universe just hated him, he mused to himself, trying to keep a poker face while slipping the paper into his pocket. He would tell Penelope about this later, because even though they were supposed to keep it a secret, she would want to know about this.

Derek did the same as everyone and glanced at his small slip of paper but did a double take when he saw the name scrawled on the parchment. Spencer Reid, was all it said in black ink. Great, of course he got his best friend, whom of which he was inconveniently in love with at the moment. He tried to keep his facial expression neutral, as there was a team full of profilers watching and if he even showed the slightest amount of emotion right now, it might give away who he had drawn.

“Now as per the rules of our lovely unit chief, no gifts above $20, and no telling who you got, as it would ruin the game. We will exchange gifts on the 24th and our lovely Rossi has agreed to let us use his home for the gift exchange.” Penelope described the rules, gesturing over to Rossi.

“Not home, mansion” He corrected, smiling.

A few days later, after agonizing over whether or not he should tell Penelope about his crush on Spencer, Derek texts Penelope. Everyone is asleep on the jet home except for Spencer and him. Spencer is reading a book at a million miles an hour, and Derek is on his phone. However every few seconds in between texts he would look up at the doctor, who always looked so peaceful and serene while reading.

New iMessage from: Garcia

You’re kidding me.

Derek smiled at his phone and typed,

No, I’m not. And I got him for secret santa too. I am so fucked, aren’t I?

He finished typing and set his phone on his lap, glancing at Spencer again while waiting for a response. Well, he thought, less of a glance, more of a stare. He zoned out looking at the younger man, memorizing the way his hands ran over the page. Suddenly the doctor looked up, and they looked in the eyes for a moment before they both quickly looked away. He felt a buzz on his chest and feeling grateful to have an excuse to look at something other than him, continued his conversation with Penelope.

Garcia: First of all you weren’t supposed to tell me the secret santa thing, second of all, I can feel you staring at him from here. You are so in love it makes me sick.

Penelope rummaged around her office in Quantico, cleaning up before the team arrived and they all got to go home. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and took it out, Morgan again.

Derek: I know, but I had to tell somebody because I’m going crazy over it. I don’t know what to get him. He deserves something better than some random book.

Garcia: My sweet, I promise you he will love anything you get him.

Derek: You sure?

Garcia: I am sure.

Garcia: And if you don’t go to sleep right now Derek Morgan I will strangle you when you get back.

Derek: Fine fine, we’ll be back in an hour. You should get some rest too, go home.

Garcia: Like hell I’m leaving before you all get back here safely. I’ll wait.

They landed in Quantico about an hour later, and as promised, Derek was asleep for about 30 minutes when the jet landed and jolted everyone awake. They all walked back into the building together, tired as all hell even though most of them got sleep on the plane.

“Hey, kid,” Derek said, walking with Spencer to his desk. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Nope,” Spencer said, packing up his things, avoiding looking Derek in the eye.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, and Spencer froze in his tracks. There were a million things he could’ve said at that moment, but he just continued packing his things after a muttered ‘yea,’. “You know you can talk to me, right?” Derek asked, but Spencer just started thinking about how no, actually he could not talk to him because talking to him about the particular thing he was feeling at the moment would ruin their friendship and Spencer didn’t know if he could take any heartbreak at the moment considering he was tired and about to break down into tears.

“Please, just go to your office, Morgan. I don’t want to talk.” Was all he said, and as Derek walked away a single tear slipped down Spencer’s cheek, which he aggressively rubbed away. The rest of the team was either too busy wrapping up or too tired to notice the distress Spencer was in at the moment.

Derek walked to his office, trying not to burst into tears. When he closed his door he immediately started crying, though. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He hated seeing Spencer in danger, which is exactly where every case put him. And he was always so cold to him, like working with him now was a pain, a formality that must be gone through with. The glance on the plane was a spark of hope before, that maybe Spencer felt the same way, but it was put out by the way he acted earlier. He didn’t know anymore.

He knocked on Penelope’s door, hoping that the technical analyst hadn’t gone home yet. And she hadn't; she was sitting in her chair, knitting when Derek came in. She jumped up, giving him a kiss on the cheek when he arrived.

“God I am so happy to see that you are safe and well and a million other good things.”

“Actually, safe and well might be the only two good things I feel at the moment, Pen.”

“Alright, talk to me. What happened.” She said, moving her way over to sit down with Derek, rubbing his back.

“I don’t know. There was a moment, on the plane, while I was texting you that I thought maybe, maybe he felt the same way but when we got back he was so cold. It was like he was trying to distance himself from me in every way.”

“Ok, well you’re the profiler. Tell me exactly what he said.”

“Babygirl I don’t remember-”

“I think you do.” Penelope said, crossing her arms at him.

“I do. He said, ‘Please, just go to your office, Morgan. I don’t want to talk.’ He sounded sad, and he said please, which means he was probably expecting me to stay.” Derek had a moment of realization before putting his head in his hands. “I should’ve stayed, oh my god I should have-”

“Hey, hey there is nothing you can do now. Deep breaths. And you’re right. Those sound like the words of someone who is trying to push you away for their own good. And I’ve heard them before,” She said, punching Derek softly in the shoulder. “I don’t think he wants you to leave, Der. I think he just needs some time to figure out himself, first.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“I can’t say for sure,” (She definitely could) “But I’d say he does.”

“About the secret santa,”

“Hun, I don’t care that you told me.”

“No, not that. What should I get him?”

“I already told you. He would love a ‘random book’” She did air quotes around what Derek had said over text earlier. “But you should make it special, write a note inside or something.”

“You know what…” Derek started, getting an idea. “I think I will.”

“Great, glad I could be of help. Now if you will excuse me, I have to be back here in 6 hours now, and I would like to go home for at least 4 of those.

“Well don’t let me get in the way.” Derek said, smiling at her and backing out of the office.

Spencer spent the rest of that night overthinking, trying to sleep but only falling unconscious for 3 hours before his blaring alarm woke him up. Did I push him away? He thought to himself, lying awake.

Spencer texted Penelope on his way into work, and even though he wasn’t much of a texting person, he didn’t have the time to make a call right now. All his text said was: I really messed up this time, Garcia. She replied as he was walking into the office, What did you do? Although Penelope, of course, had some inkling of what the young doctor was talking about. They had a few minutes before work officially started for the day, and Hotch hadn’t given them a case yet so he strode directly to Penelope’s office, not bothering to set down anything.

Spencer knocked on the door before coming in, and closed the door before sitting down.

“Alright, so spill.” She said, crossing her legs. Her office was becoming less and less of a technical analysis space and more of a therapist’s couch.

“I pushed him away. I was tired and angry and I pushed him away.”

“Slow down, slow down. I’m sure he didn’t take it that way, all of you were feeling that way last night.”

“No but he seemed angry with me too and I-”

“I can promise you. He probably was angry at first and regretted it, and now he’s thinking the same thing you are. Make an effort today to reach out to him, you’ll be surprised.”

“You sound like JJ reading my horoscope.”

“Maybe I can just see into the future.”

“Yeah right, and anyways that isn’t the end of it. I know I’m not supposed to tell you but I got Derek for the secret santa thing.” Spencer sighed into this coffee that was pressed against his lips, and after taking a sip, said, “I’m starting to really hate you for putting this together, because I have no idea what to give him.”

“Maybe get him something he likes,”

“Yeah, but what does he even like? Music?” Spencer asked, setting his coffee cup on the table beside him. “But I don’t even know what or who he listens to. All I know is he likes music and I feel like I don’t know anything about him right now.”

“Football. He likes football.” Garcia said, also trying to think of things her best friend would enjoy as a present.

“Ok that’s a start, what about football is there…”

“No, no scratch that. Do you know how to make a mix of music on a CD?”

“Garcia, you know I can barely work a printer.”

“I’ll help you. I made his playlist that he listens to on the jet so I know what he likes. All you have to do is give it to him.”

“Wow, thanks Penelope. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t. Say anything that is, just go catch a serial killer and I’ll have it ready by the end of the day.”

As promised, at the end of the day Spencer walked into Penelope’s office and she had a CD ready for him. It was a relatively short case, a local one that had the team home before 8pm. Everyone was in a good mood, but decided to go home early while they had the rare chance.

“Ok here it is, loverboy. Just so you know you can write on it with Sharpie and it won’t mess up the disc.” She winked and handed it to him, Spencer blushing and turning around to make sure no one was at the door.

“Thank you, Penelope. Really.”

“It’s nothing. Thank me when you finally confess your love to that himbo.”

“What’s a-”

“You know what, I’m not explaining that to you. Go home, try and go to sleep early tonight.” She said, pushing him out the door with his new CD. As the door closed in his face, Spencer started to say,

“Have a nice-” But it closed before he could say “-night.” He sighed and walked down the hall, carrying his CD and bag with him towards the elevator. He didn’t expect to see anyone else, but lo and behold Derek Morgan walking towards the elevator at the same time.

“Hey, Reid.” He said, stepping into the elevator with him.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, glancing everywhere but into Derek’s eyes. They were about level, height-wise, and this made it harder for Spencer to avoid his gaze, so he just stared down at the ground.

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just want to know why.” Spencer’s face heated up in shame, and he looked to Derek.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so cold lately. I’ve been having a hard time, but Garcia helped me realize I shouldn’t be shutting people like you who care about me out.”

“Garcia helped you realize-” Derek paused, thinking. “How long have you two been talking?” He asked, curious.

“Pretty much every day since September.”

“Ok ok, I see.” Spencer didn’t question the way Derek asked how long he’d been talking to Garcia, and switched the topic of conversation.

“Four days and counting until the Secret Santa party.” He said, glancing back at Derek.

“Yeah, you excited?”

“Mostly excited to see who mine is.” Spencer said, staring at the elevator doors, which had just opened. “Have a good night,” He said, walking out the doors of the building, rushing towards his car.

“Yeah, you too.” He said, but Derek knew that Spencer was long gone by now. Derek left the building and walked towards his car, starting it and leaving the parking lot as quick as he got here this morning.

The day of the Secret Santa party, Hotch had one case for them. When they got to the round table, everyone was pretty disappointed, because cases often meant that they came back late and in a bad mood. But it turned out that this one was just an hours drive away, and even quicker on the jet, so everyone hopped in, hoping that this wouldn’t take long.

The case only ended up lasting the day, as the killer was sloppy and left behind an extensive trial. The BAU team boarded the jet wondering why they were even called in to help in the first place.

“Hey, at least this means you all can still come over tonight.” Rossi said positively.

“Yeah, everyone’s coming, right?” JJ said, scanning the plane, but no one spoke up. Just nods of heads to confirm that they were all going.

They all took their seperate cars to Rossi’s, with Emily riding with JJ because she left her car at her apartment and took the subway.

When Spencer got there, the house was lit up. Rossi and Hotch had been the first ones to arrive, and shortly after Spencer the rest came filing in the door, joking and laughing with everyone. Spencer caught sight of everyone holding their gifts, wondering which bag or wrapped box was for him. Penelope was the last to come in, taking off her shoes at the door like everyone else and smiling at him with a wrapped present.

“Not for you,” She said, seeing the look on his face “That comes later.”

They all ate good food and talked and drank wine that night, and everything seemed perfect for that moment in time.

“Ok, ok. It is time for the event that we all came here for to take place!” Penelope said, a little wine drunk, standing up and grabbing her present. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, everyone stand up and go find whoever you were assigned. That’s it, good luck.”

They all rose from their seats to go find their assigned person. Spencer just silently waited. He knew he had Morgan, but he wanted to receive his present first and then find Derek because he was a little more… personal, and he didn’t want anyone getting in the way. Just then Derek made his way to him . No, no way is this happening, he thought, terrified and excited at the same time.

“Spencer Reid,” He said, handing the doctor a poorly wrapped present “I believe this is for you.”

“Oh my god,” Reid said, eyes darting between the present and Morgan.

“What?” Derek asked, visibly confused.

“Here. You were who I was assigned.” Spencer said bluntly, shoving the small present towards him.

“What are the odds,” Derek said, and then added as Spencer opened his mouth “please do not actually tell me the odds,” and they both laughed, unwrapping their gifts to each other. Spencer, since he got his gift first, unwrapped it faster and found a book.

“Derek, I love this,” It was a book he had never read before, and from the many books Spencer Reid had read, there weren’t a lot of those left. “Thank you.” He said, looking at him. He thumbed through the pages as the scent of the new book filled the air around them.

“Look at the inside cover.” Derek said, with a hint of shakiness in his voice.

“Only if you look at the CD.” Derek was holding the case in his hands, not taking the disc out itself yet. He was going to listen to it on the car ride home, he had told himself.

“Ok,” Derek wondered what was written on the CD. Probably just a funny playlist name or some fun fact about music, he thought dismissively. At the same time he pulled the disc gently from it’s casing, Spencer opened the cover to the book. In Spencer’s scrawled handwriting, Derek made out the words ‘I love you.’ written in black sharpie on the disc. As Spencer opened the book, he found Derek’s bold lettering on the cover page, saying ‘I love you.’

At the same time, they both looked at each other and came to a realization that this was not platonic. This wasn’t the way friends said they loved each other. And they both realized that the other felt the same way that they had been feeling for months.

“I love you too,” They both said at the same time, both letting out a laugh and realizing what happened.

“My place after this?” Derek asked under his breath.

“Most definitely.” Spencer replied, leaving Derek with a kiss on the cheek to go talk to Penelope.

#moreid #moreid fic #i love them!!#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #derek morgan #tooth rotting fluff.#fluff #light angst

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pnf-lover98 · 4 years

Text

ML - An Helping Hand

It wasn't unusual for Gabriel to work at new designs at late night – as most artists are well known for having their best ideas when they're supposed to be sleeping. That night was one of those, with the fashion designer working on his tablet in his usual spot, and Nooroo floating silently around the room.

The kwami flew to one of the room's windows, sitting down on the windowsill.

He had thought about Duusu's words over and over. The other kwami had been pestering him for quite a while now, trying to convince him they should try to bring their holders together.

“But they are meant to be!" Duusu had insisted.

“Maybe, but we are meant not to interfere with the personal lives of our wielders, remember?" He had countered. “What would the Guardian think of us, if we broke the promise?"

But maybe his sibling was right about all that plan of hers. Maybe it could all get better if those two could see just how much they meant to each other...

After all, what harm could a little, tiny push do?

Nooroo flew back to Mr. Agreste. "It is such a lovely night! Don't you think so, Master?" The kwami spoke, shyly. He only obtained an absentminded 'mh' from the man as a reply. "You've been working for a long time, now. I would advise you to take a break to rest your eyes."

Gabriel's gaze met Nooroo's, and held it silently for a few seconds. “Maybe you're right, Nooroo" the man eventually said, removing his glasses to rub his eyes.

Gabriel walked up to the window, opened it and stepped outside on the balcony. Nooroo flew next to him, watching as his holder leaned against the fence, staring down at the garden.

It was time to enter in action.

“Paris is so peaceful, tonight!" Nooroo commented, sighing in contentment. "I can sense many positive emotions!"

Mr. Agreste didn't reply. It meant that there were going to be no new akumas, for the time being.

“They also come from the people close to this home." Nooroo went on. "I can feel how Adrien is happy thinking about his new friends... His bodyguard is glad that everything is going fine..."

The kwami closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the positive waves. Then: "I can feel Miss Nathalie is happy as well, tonight."

Gabriel finally turned his head to look at his kwami. "She's asleep," Nooroo said softly, with an hint of a smile on his face. “She's dreaming to be with the man she loves."

Mr. Agreste once again said nothing, but Nooroo didn't miss a slight frown form on the man's face and, mostly, the slightest hint of annoyance and jealously he'd felt after the kwami's mention of that unnamed man.

- - - - -

The seed had been planted and, although Gabriel claimed himself to be left completely unaffected by it, in a few occasions he'd found himself thinking about Nooroo's words.

Was Nathalie really in love with someone? How long had this been going on?

And mostly, how did he not notice?

He wondered how many other things he was unaware of.

Quite a few, he found out in the next few days as he slowly started to focus more on the people surrounding him, with or without the Miraculous.

He paid more attention to the looks in Adrien’s eyes when his son did or said something in particular, and found out that – like Nooroo had said – he was indeed happier when he spoke about his friends or left the house to meet them.

Then, the looks on his interns’ faces and the fret in their movements revealed him that they were afraid of him even when he wasn’t mad at all.

For some reasons, he found himself paying close attention to Nathalie whenever the two of them were out in public, trying to determine who the object of her affection could be, but she never showed any different behaviours around any of their acquaintances, be it photographers, models or the occasional workers of the fashion company.

Yet, her feelings were always there, ringing through his magical brooch whenever she and Gabriel went.

There was that newly-labeled love, radiating with a fluctuating intensity from her but, now that he noticed it, almost ever-present.

But there was also a peculiar sadness coming from his assistant, and he couldn’t say that that was something new. Just like him, Nathalie had been feeling sad ever since Emilie’s death.

But now it was different; it was as if her pain had grown stronger, deeper in a way. That wasn’t just the pain from the loss of a friend. It was intermingled with something else.

He felt the need to talk with her.

Gabriel stepped out of the mansion and walked up to the garden, where he knew his assistant was likely to be during her breaks. In fact, there she was, sitting on one of the benches with her head low.

She was still emitting that sadness that he felt earlier.

“Nathalie” Gabriel called for her. Nathalie's head immediately shot up, her gaze moving around until it found his.

“Sir?” the woman greeted him surprised. “What... are you doing here?"

“It seems like I can't find any inspiration, today. So I figured I could take a break as well." He replied. “May I?" He then gestured toward the bench.

Nathalie looked down at the empty space next to her, then back towards her boss. “Of course!"

Gabriel sat down, and the two of them remained silent for a while.

“Hey, uhm..." He eventually spoke. "I know I'm not supposed to pry into your personal matters, and I understand if you don't want to talk about this sort of things with me, but..." The man brought a hand up to his neck, fixing the tie that hid his Miraculous. "I've been paying more attention to how people around me feel, and I realized that I never noticed how lately you've been feeling down."

Nathalie turned to look at him, surprised at his unexpected interest in her problems. "I wanted to know how are you, and if there's something wrong." Gabriel ended.

"It's kind of you to worry, but It's nothing serious, really." Nathalie played it off casually.

Gabriel nodded. “Well, whatever it is, at least you can count on that love you've been feeling to relieve your mind from your worries!"

Nathalie's eyes widened slightly, the only sign betraying her sudden alarm at his words in her otherwise inexpressive face. However, the temporary fear that he'd found out about her true feelings vanished in the moment Gabriel added a “Who's the lucky man, if I may ask?"

Nathalie pondered her answer for a few moments. "He's an amazing person, really" she then replied, staring into his eyes. "A sweet soul, even if he can behave like a real a-hole, at times." Nathalie smiled, fondness washing over her words.

“It sounds...great." Gabriel replied.

Again with that fleeting sensation of annoyance in his stomach! What was happening?

Nathalie turned away, looking down to the ground. "Yeah, well... It would surely be, if only he would reciprocate me..."

“Oh...” Gabriel's shoulders dropped. "Is love the reason why you've been feeling so unhappy lately, then?" He watched as Nathalie pressed her lips together, nodding silently. "I'm sorry." He simply replied, and he meant it.

“That's how life goes, sometimes..." Nathalie shrugged.

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed, before Gabriel spoke again. “Tell me who he is; I can make him the target of my next akuma", he offered.

Nathalie turned back to face him, remaining silent. "I don't..." she started, and then took another pause.

‘I don't think you would really like to kick your own butt’ was the reply she would have really wanted to give him. Instead, she opted for a "That's not the solution to the problem but, once again, thank you very much for the thought...sir." Her lips curved in an unsure half-smile.

“Gabriel,” Mr. Agreste corrected her We’re not in working mode now And anyone who makes the people I care about suffer deserves a punishment!"

Nathalie’s smile now seemed a little softer and more true. But still, she didn’t reply.

Gabriel leaned back on his arms. "I know what unrequited love feels like. Well, not actually love, but... before Emilie came around, I had a crush on a girl in my class, back in my high school freshman. I tried to court her for a while, but she never liked me back." Gabriel remained pensive for a while, thinking back to those times.

Then, he turned to Nathalie, who had been intently listening to his words. What I’m trying to say is... Even if he won't ever reciprocate you there's still plenty of time You're still young you're an amazing person, and you're good looking." He placed his hand on hers, smiling reassuringly. "You'll find the right person, eventually. Just like I found Emilie.”

Something faded noticeably in Nathalie's eyes, that had been glistening and hopeful up until that moment. “Let's hope so,” she replied swiftly, before pulling her hand away and glancing elsewhere.

Hidden behind the bushes of the mansion's garden, Nooroo and Duusu had been watching the entire scene.

“Well, that was a complete disaster, wasn't it?" Nooroo commented, cringing as he felt new waves of disappointment and sadness radiating from Nathalie, stronger than they were before her conversation with Gabriel. "That's what I get for listening to you!"

“I wouldn't call it a disaster", Duusu defended. "He said she is good looking!" The peacock kwami added gleeful, her eyes sparkling.

“Before telling her how he still loves Mrs. Agreste!" Nooroo reminded her. The butterfly kwami started to leave, but Duusu flew in front of him. He actually felt jealous on a few instances, these past days!” She said. "We're on the right path! Let me try a plan, next!"

Nooroo stood still, then sighed. “Fine. But I'll be around to keep an eye on you."

Duusu squealed excited, grabbing Nooroo's arms and making him fly in circles with her. “You'll see, Noo-noo. We'll get them together, eventually." The kwami exclaimed cheerfully. “And when we'll make it, everything will be amazing!"

#ml fanfic #my ficts #miraculous ladybug #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #gabriel x nathalie #GabeNath

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hetacon · 5 years

Text

A Fighting Chance

Word Count: 1,926

Pairing: Prinxiety

Warning: Bullying, homophobia, use of the words fag, pussy, and pansy, mentions of porn, sexual jokes, panic attack, vomit, swearing, and kissing

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Summary: It’s not that Roman Prince wouldn’t help his friends in any given situation, it’s just that he’d rather do something more drastic than seek out adult interference. Oh no, he’d definitely much rather intervene himself.

______________________________

Virgil Knight had panic attacks, that was a given fact that all of his friends were aware of.

Roman Prince, however, was going to be experiencing one for the first time and to put it lightly, he was livid.

Never with Virgil, Virgil hadn’t done anything wrong in the slightest.

It was these guys mocking him. For some reason or another, these assholes thought it was ok to make Virgil’s life a living Hell. Virgil had always been the quiet sort, refusing to be particularly bothersome, and while he was rough around the edges with some sass to boot, he was kind and sweet. This was exactly why he wasn’t fighting back as he and Roman were bothered by the group.

“Whatcha drawin’ there, Virgey?”

Virgil refused to look up to the taunting.

“Whatcha think he’s drawing, guys?” the guy asked his friends.

“Probably gay porn, you draw any gay porn, Virgey?” another one of them piped up, laughing. At the suggestion, Virgil turned bright red.

Roman really wished Logan and Patton were here right now, they’d be better equipped with helping in this situation. Not that he wouldn’t help Virgil, it was just the fact that he’d rather sporadically climb over the table and deck them rather than go get one of the campus supervisors. That would require leaving Virgil alone as well and that was definitely not an option.

God how Roman hated high school.

“Hey hey, how about you draw me next?”

“No thank you,” Virgil muttered, Roman noticing the tension leave Virgil’s body as he scooted closer.

“What was that? You gotta speak up, buddy!” one of them teased Virgil as if he was a shy child.

“I’m not a kid and I said no thank you. I can choose what to draw and what I want to draw is definitely not a group of guys making fun of me for my art.”

Roman finally sighed. “Look, can you just leave us alone? We’re not bothering you,” he deadpanned, looking to them, his arm wrapped protectively around Virgil’s shoulder. He felt a little better as Virgil slightly leaned into the touch, continuing to work on his sketch of Patton.

“Fine, whatever assholes. Watch your backs,” the supposed ringleader of the group spat out, the rest of the boys following after him.

“You know, they’re kinda shrimpy,”

“Don’t go sucking any of their dicks then, you’re allergic to shellfish,” Virgil said with a slight smirk, glancing over in wistful amazement as Roman started to laugh heartily.

Eventually the bell had rung and they each went off to separate classes for 6th period. Luckily it was the last period of the day for the two of them and for Roman, it went by fairly quickly.

Virgil, unbeknownst to him at the time, couldn’t get his mind off of the interaction though. He was on the verge of a panic attack by the time they both got to their free period, time they’d always spend together in the art classroom.

Roman was mostly unaware of everything as Virgil slipped his headphones on and got to work painting.

They were just both working on projects and Roman was in his own little world. Today was going to be a quiet day for them. That was alright with him, Roman thought as he looked over his sketch.

Virgil was running out the door.

With immediate panic clouding his mind, Roman followed after him into one of the bathrooms, just in time to see Virgil collapse into a stall and puke.

Roman went over and knelt down behind Virgil, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You ok there, Vee?” he asked, holding Virgil’s bangs back the best he could.

That’s when he finally heard the hyperventilating before Virgil was throwing up into the toilet again. The breaths were shaky and Roman was worried. He knew Virgil was going through a panic attack now but he’d never helped or even seen Virgil go through one, he didn’t know a single thing to do. What would work...? Talking? Talking might work.

“Virgil, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing right now but know I’m not going to leave you like this right now, ok..? I know you’d probably prefer Patton or Logan but I’m your friend and I know I’m the only one here today who can help,” he said, rubbing Virgil’s back softly. “So if it’s ok, I’d like to stay until you calm down. After that, I can leave if you need space but for now, I’m here. Is that alright?”

He noticed a slight nod as Virgil shut his eyes tightly.

“Good, alright.. Uh...”

‘Think think think, Roman! What did Logan tell you about Virgil’s panic attacks? God, I really do need to listen to him more. Why is he always right about these types of things?’ Roman thought to himself, cursing Logan for being the smarter one of them once again. He really hated it when Logan was right.

“Oh!” he shouted but apologized when Virgil flinched, his breathing growing more sporadic. “Sorry sorry, it’s alright. Can you uh.. Can you breathe in for 4 seconds with me? That’s what Logan and Patton do with you, right?”

Virgil reached over and placed his hand to Roman’s chest, taking Roman’s hand with his other out of instinct. Roman watched the action with astonishment at the trust Virgil was giving him in the situation but remembered he had a job to do, breathing in for four seconds.

“Hold for 7.”

Holding.

“Out for 8,” he finished, letting out his breath slowly for Virgil to copy.

Roman kept doing it with Virgil until his breathing had evened out and Virgil grimaced at the taste in his mouth.

“Throwing up is awful,” Virgil muttered dryly, smiling just a little when Roman laughed.

“I’d imagine not,” Roman replied, helping Virgil get cleaned up. “Are you ok to get up?”

“Yeah, yeah I should be fine.”

Roman nodded and offered his hand to Virgil. “Here we go!” he said, pulling Virgil to stand up.

Virgil let out a sigh, leaning his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Man, do I not like those,” he huffed out in a breathy laugh.

“You can’t help it, all you can do is work with what you’ve got, Cousin Fit,” Roman laughed out.

With that, they started heading back to the art room.

“I really don’t want to keep working..” Virgil sighed, leaning into Roman, hugging his arm.

“Which is why I’m going to be your knight in shining armor today and take you out for lunch. Pack up your stuff and we’ll head out ok?”

Virgil nodded.

“Thank you, Roman.”

Roman smiled down at Virgil’s head on his shoulder.

“Anything for you,” he hummed out gently.

A slam against the locker next to Roman’s earned a sigh from the aforementioned. He could only imagine what was going to come next as he shut his locker, clicking the lock shut. And as he started to walk away...

“How’s our Virgin’s little boyfriend doing today?” one of their voices mocked.

He tried to pay them no mind, spotting Patton coming his way. He waved as he started walking towards Patton.

“Wow boys, Virgin’s picked himself a gay little pansy! Can’t even handle us teasing him,” Roman heard from behind him. “Go get your boyfriend to protect you like the pussy you are!”

“Ok, first of all-!” Roman shouted, whipping around to face them. “There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with being gay! I am a human being just like everyone else! My sexuality is no business of yours if I don’t make it your business! I certainly wouldn’t want to date the likes of you so don’t even worry about me coming on to you!”

“Roman, think about what you’re doing-“ Patton tried to say from behind him, only to be ignored as Roman continued to yell.

“Secondly, he’s not my boyfriend but someone as wonderful and caring and strong-willed as Virgil would be a catch for anyone who he deems worthy of his affections. He has more compassion and understanding than all of you assholes combined and I will do anything in my power to make sure he is safe and loved. It would be an absolute honor and fucking privilege to date him and I would do so in a heartbeat if he wanted me!”

“You would?” Roman suddenly heard behind him, turning to see Virgil who was flushed pink. Roman felt his heart melt at the soft, innocent little expression on his friend’s face and he felt his face grow hot but he smiled brightly.

“Absolutely,” he murmured out with all the love he could muster up to his voice.

“You know, from a certain angle these fags could be kinda cute together-“

Roman threw a full force uppercut into the leader’s jaw and he was sent sprawling back into the rest of his friends.

“Oh you are so gonna pay for that!”

In an instant, Roman was circled by the 5 boys and he barely heard Virgil’s frantic and desperate shouting over the commotion. Everything had gone red in an instant and all he was thinking about was fighting them off for insulting Virgil. They weren’t getting away with anything, not this time.

“Ow,” Roman hissed as Virgil put some disinfectant on a cut on his cheek.

“That’s what you get for getting into a fight like that you absolute moron,” Virgil huffed, wiping away some more of the blood.

“They were asking for it,” Roman pouted, only to hiss as Virgil pressed a little too hard on one of them.

“Crap, sorry.”

“It’s ok, Vee.”

Virgil continued to patch him up, making sure to handle Roman gently.

“Did you mean it back there?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you in a better set of circumstances,” Roman laughed. “But I’m glad you know, even if you don’t feel that way about me. You don’t have to.”

Roman grabbed a hold of Virgil’s hands, causing him to look up at Roman who only smiled and leaned over, kissing his forehead.

Virgil let a small smile grace his lips, closing his eyes. “Would you like the, how’d you so eloquently put it, ‘absolute honor and fucking privilege’ of dating me?” he teased Roman, smirking up at him as he opened his eyes.

With a laugh, Roman nodded. “Very much,” he answered before Virgil’s lips were on his. Roman kissed back, cupping Virgil’s cheeks in his hands as Virgil’s arms wrapped around his waist. Roman gently deepened the kiss before pulling away.

“If this is what happens when I get hurt, maybe I should get into fights more often,” Roman hummed.

“Absolutely not, you ass!” Virgil shouted, playfully hitting him.

“Ow, I’ve been wounded!” Roman gasped dramatically, falling back into his bed, sticking his tongue out to play dead.

“Oh my god, c’mere,” Virgil said, trying to contain his laughter as he leaned over, planting his lips to Roman’s again.

Those assholes would probably still be back to mock Roman but at least they’d be leaving Virgil alone. Roman could certainly defend himself if it meant getting to kiss Virgil like this all the time.

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Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this story! If you would like to send me some comments on the story, feel free to do so, I love hearing what everyone thinks! Stay safe, be awesome, I love you guys!

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Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #stan writing

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star-birthmark · 5 years

Text

The Ultimate Vow (A Prosciutto Timeline): Prosciutto X Reader

Here is the really long Prosciutto fic that I’ve been working on amidst finals. Here’s the thing: you’ll see it’s another dramatic telling of a La Squadra childhood, using the name HCs I posted. I just couldn’t get this out of my head but I don’t want to be known as a one-trick pony.

Anyway, without further ado: Prosciutto X Reader (4.5k words)

CWs: parent/child arguing, smoking, not sfw-ish

“And they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

1980. The young woman closed the book and looked down at the two contrasting faces of the two children before her. One of them, her daughter, was grinning ear to ear in excitement, her cheeks beautifully rosied in wishful thinking. The other, her beloved son, about three years younger and five years old, in disgust at the romantic fluff, his little overbite biting into his lip in thought, a tick he always had.

“Oh… what I’d do to have a happy ending like that…”

The little girl hummed pleasantly, standing up from her spot and swaying back and forth as if dancing with her imaginary prince. Her younger brother rolled his eyes and laid back in his bed as his sister waltzed with herself across the bedroom floor.

“Lucia that’s enough excitement for one night. Come join Andino, that story was supposed to put you to sleep.”

The little girl pouted. “But I can’t just go to bed now. Not when I’m picturing the perfect romance with my future husband and me!”

A young man came up behind his wife and they together stared down at their children in bed with loving smiles. Still, the little boy wasn’t having any of it, he was too tired.

“Will you knock it off Lucia?” The little girl ignored him.

“Oh, it’ll be perfect! He’ll be just like daddy and take out all of the bad people in the city. Then my love’ll meet me and the two of us will fall madly in love under our hero names until we’re finally ready to settle down and then, there’s gonna be all these fireworks, he’ll whisper his real name to me and we live happily ever after. Ah! It’s so romantic!”

The little boy’s interest remained peaked, turning over to his sister at that last part.

“What do you mean his real name? You’re gonna marry someone and you don’t even know their name?”

His sister rolled her eyes and shook her head at her silly younger brother, all while their parents look at each other, perplexed how their daughter knew such a mature practice. The father cleared his throat and knelt down to his son.

“You see well… there’s this common practice that since it’s dangerous to do what I do, I have to stick with my ‘hero’ name during most times of the day. When I was younger, before I met mom, I went by my hero name at all times for safety. It’s a show of love son, to tell someone your real name. It shows that you’re willing to trust someone with your true self, even when others want to use your true self against you. I love your mother, and I trust her. And one day you’ll meet a girl who you’ll trust, and as an ultimate vow, you’ll tell her your real name. And if she’s a ‘hero’ as well, then she’ll tell you her real name. And Lucia will one day have a man say his real name to her. It’s the ultimate show of trust.”

The little boy sat in his bed stunned, infatuated with the idea of one day meeting someone that he could put his true self towards. Staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom after everyone had left, he vowed to himself that he would find this girl one day if it was the last thing he did.

1988. The air hung heavily in the kitchen, the only sound being the occasional winces spilling from the young male’s lips as his mother quickly moved to disinfect the cut at his temple. He continuously tried to nudge her off, grumbling that he could take care of it himself, but the woman kept him tightly in his grip.

“We have to hurry.” The preteen glanced over at his mother, a confused look dawning his face.

“Why?” The woman turned her head hearing the clinking of keys right outside the front door, and her eyes widened in desperation.

“You’ll find out soon.” She dropped her supplies and stood up, wiping off her hands on a nearby washcloth before taking hold of the boy’s shoulder.

“Leave. Go to your room. Now. Join your sister.” The young teen, only about thirteen years old, looked back and forth between his mother and the loud crash of the front door swinging wide open.

“Wait what do you mea-”

“WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS THAT IDIOT?!”

The woman rushed forward towards the furious man and held her hands out to block him from their son. The man kept trying to scoot past her, but she kept her ground, wondering why her son wasn’t moving from his spot in the chair and running into his room for protection. The boy stood up from the chair, having never seen his father so incredibly angry, genuinely wondering what he had done.

“Salvatore, stop it! Don’t hurt him. He didn’t know.”

“Like hell he didn’t know. All his life I’ve been training him for these things and this is what the coglione does?! This is what he fucking does?!”

With that, the man nudged past his wife and strode over to his son, looking him down in deep contempt and disgust. Still, though, he had raised a stubborn son, with young Andino not flinching in the slightest under his father’s penetrating gaze. Salvatore Russo bit the inside of his cheek, breathing heavily through his nose like an enraged bull.

“What. Have. You. DONE?!”

Andino blinked back a little at the sudden volume shift but kept his ground. With a clenching of his fist, he looked up at his father with a defensive air. Why was he in the wrong? He saved a little girl’s life for god sake! Who knows what would have happened if those men had gotten to her? So why the hell was his father so angry?

The mother inched closer to the two of them, placing a soft hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“Andino… head back into your roo-”

“I did nothing wrong! She called me her hero! Just like how I call you! What would you have wanted me to do?! Let them kill her?!”

The father growled before swiftly gripping onto his son’s shirt tightly and pushing him back into the wall. The mother squeaked timidly at the sight of her flesh and blood being attacked by seemingly the love of her life, knowing that what the boy did was wrong and that she shouldn’t interfere, so she didn’t.

“How naive can you be?! I’m not a hero! I’m not a goddamn hero! I called myself a hero when you were little so you wouldn’t know what I really do! But you’re older now, so stop bringing up that hero shit.

That girl was the daughter of a man from a rival group in the area. Those men chasing her were my men. We were only going to take her for a short amount of time and then we would have returned her unharmed once her father paid up. But since you let her escape and go into hiding, we don’t where she is, or where her fucking father is! God to think you just happened to be there to ‘save the day’ huh?! Nice going… champ.”

The teen gulped at the usual term of endearment that came from the man before him, staring into his fury fueled eyes before his father let him go of his shirt and took a few steps back, causing the boy to fall to the floor. Andino rubbed the back of his head in pain, feeling tears come to his eyes as his mother rushed over to hug him tightly for comfort.

“I’m sorry padre. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

The man stared down at the floor, lighting himself a cigarette to calm down, shaking his head.

“Well, you weren’t Andino. You weren’t doing the right thing. Thanks to you, I’ve become the laughing stock of this town’s gang for screwing this up. What have I taught you? A true man doesn’t start talking until the job is done. Don’t go getting all heroic on me.”

The boy flinched, not wanting to picture his old man, his hero, as the butt of anyone’s joke, someone to be made fun of. Even if he didn’t want to be called a hero anymore, the young teenager still thought of his father as such.

The woman sighed. “Come on dear. He didn’t mean it.”

Andino stared down at the floor, still encased in his mother’s arms, his lip quivering. Finally, he worked up the courage to look back up at his father and opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry, really. I just wanted to save someone for once. Not be the bad guy like you. Not be… a mafioso.” The man looked down at his son, a playful scoff at his lip.

“Aww… the poor boy didn’t want to be a mafioso no more. You hear that Giuseppina, he doesn’t want to be a mafioso no more. It’s like he doesn’t realize that he was born a mafioso! And he’s going to live as a mafioso! And he’s going to die a mafioso! Are we clear?!”

Andino flinched before nodding obediently. “Yes. We’re clear.”

With a heavy sigh, Salvatore knelt down to his wife and son, looking the boy dead in the eye.

“...Padre?”

Andino felt a heavy pain place down on his chest as he saw a glossiness begin to form over his father’s eyes. The man (about to burst into tears as he realized the fate that awaited him for the failed mission), sighed heavily and held a hand out to his boy. When Andino held out his hand as well, he watched as his father carefully took a ring off his finger that had been next to his wedding ring, and placed it in the boy’s hand. Then, in an act that only shocked little Andino further, the father lunged forward and hugged his boy tightly, whispering that he loved him. The boy’s mother watched the whole interaction with total awareness of the situation, even if the teen was still confused. With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and spoke.

“Andino. Why don’t you go to bed?”

The blond looked between his parents, the reason behind their sudden anxiety suddenly starting to dawn on him. The pain in his chest only worsened and he slowly stood up from the floor and began to leave the room. Before he could head to bed for the night, the young man turned around to see his mother hugging his father tightly on their kitchen floor, the man beginning to wildly sob for fear of his life. The boy soon walked down the hallway, hearing the house phone ring in the living room. His father went to pick it up, the caller instructing him to head to the headquarters immediately for them all to ‘discuss’ the failed mission. The man steeled himself and closed his eyes, saying he was on his way.

The clicking of the phone hanging up and the clicking of the boy’s bedroom door closing filled the silent house. The man calmly slipped his coat on, gave his wife a loving kiss, and made his way out the door, careful not to slam the door behind him.

Hours later, Andino stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Rising from his bed, he glances down the hall to look into the kitchen to see his mother treating his father’s cuts and bruises, his old man still crying tears of joy of just being alive. His mother moved to kiss her husband’s temple.

“It’s okay Salvatore… it’s okay. You’re okay. You can trust me.”

He rushed back to his room, hoping that with the way his life was headed, he’d have someone to care for him as his mother cared for his father. To call his name, to treat him like a human being, and just not a slave to the famiglia.

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

1994. The young mafioso, only nineteen, waded through the crowds of people inside the bar, heading towards the countertop. He had just finished his errands for his father, running about the city, intimidating those who refused to pay their debts, and negotiating in his old man’s place with other Passione members. His busy capo father was too booked to celebrate a job well done with his own son, so Andino, the lowly apprentice, sat by himself at the bar. He was drinking and just listening to the music until a hand sneakily placed down on his leg and crept up slightly until moving away. The young man looked over at the young woman now sitting next to him, a smirk playing at her dark lips before they mutter a ‘hello’ to him. Andino looked her up and down, noting she was about his age, subtly dawning the standard golden pin over her black mesh top. His scan of her incredible curves, the mysterious lighting of the bar, and her heady perfume filling his nose caused the young man to chew nervously on his lip. The young woman chuckled and inched closer.

“What’s a man like you doing alone here?”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Aww… you’re no fun. I’m only trying to do you a favor. Someone as handsome as you doesn’t deserve to be alone, looking all sad like that. Come on, let me join you for a drink at least. We both got the pin, I just finished a couple errands. Let’s celebrate a job well done together.” She smiled and his breath hitched in his throat.

The young mafia novice ordered two more drinks for him and his new friend, and the young woman already knew she had him wrapped around her finger for the night.

“What’s your name?” She was taken back, usually, guys didn’t care.

“...Mascarpone. Yours?”

“Prosciutto.”

Hours later, neither party would let the other breathe, their desperate lips refusing to leave the other’s, both of them drunk out of their minds. Prosciutto’s inexperienced hands roamed her body as both of them entered the hotel room, his partner for the night just happy with herself that she was able to manipulate him so well. Finally letting each other go, both adolescents made quick work of their clothes before returning their lips to their rightful place of contact, collapsing against the bed, heading into the early hours of the night.

Prosciutto laid on his side on the bed, bare underneath the covers, watching the woman before him reach into her purse, pull a cigarette out and light it, his cheeks innocently reddening with every glimpse he received of her naked chest. She took a puff of the tobacco before looking down at him in the silence.

“Do you want one?” She asked.

Prosciutto gulped before shyly nodding. Taking the lit cigarette in his hand, the young mafioso inhaled the smoke, only to choke once it hit his lungs. Sitting up in bed, the young man smacked his chest to recatch his breath. The girl soon sighed and took the cigarette from him, rubbing it out and waiting for him to calm down. When he was finally silent again after a few minutes, she pouted and rubbed his arm softly to calm him.

“You alright?”

“...Yeah.”

“Good. Come here.”

She giggled devilishly and leaned in, moving to passionately kiss Prosciutto in his flustered state. Dominating the embrace, her forceful lips pulled a small whimper from the naive man’s lips. Pushing him back down onto the bed to straddle his hips, Mascarpone lustfully took her partner’s mouth over and over, making him unable to speak or even breathe. When she finally released him with a bite to his neck, the two of them gasped for air, their lips swollen and chaffed from so much contact. The manipulative mafiosa grinned and ran a hand through her hair. What a fun, gullible, little boy she had found. He was more fun than any of the rest.

“You’re so cute Prosci. Can I call you that?”

Prosciutto couldn’t find it in himself to meet her gaze, given the lack of clothing between the two of them. Shyly, his cheeks scorching, he nodded. His lover giggled, moving her hand up to his chest, her fingers splaying apart over his heart, feeling his rapid heartbeat. She smiled, taking his chin in her hand and jerking his head to face her.

“Good. I couldn’t call you anything else.”

She grinned, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips before getting off him. Prosciutto sat up in bed, watching her quickly redress, taking the notepad from the hotel desk, and handing him a piece of paper with her phone number. The young man looked between his lover and the paper, smiling innocently to himself before speaking.

“...You could call me Andino.”

Mascarpone stopped in her tracks, turning around to see this starry-eyed boy in bed, completely aware of what he had just done.

She scoffed, unable to believe that she was hearing. “Excuse me?”

Prosciutto stared down at his lap, tucking a piece of his wavy blond hair behind his ear.

“I just figured since you said you couldn’t call me anything else, then I’d give you something else. My name. My real name is Andino… What’s yours?”

He glanced up at her, seeing her expression of irritated disbelief, then disgust.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Andino was taken back by her spiteful whisper, unsure what to say.

“...No? I’m n-”

Before he could finish, his lover for the night strode over to the bed once more and landed a hard slap to the young man’s cheek. Clutching his face, he glanced up, his confused eyes meeting her enraged, tearful gaze.

“What was that for?! The fuck are you doing?!

She shook her head in awe at his sheer stupidity. “What am I doing?! Do you know how dumb you are?! You don’t even know me you… you… you idiot!”

“I’d like to know you more.”

“You better grow up soon Prosci. Cause you’re going to be dead within the next month if you say that to every girl you come across. You can’t just say that dammit! Oh god… Why the fuck did you have to tell me that?!”

“I-I… I don’t know. I just feel some sort of connection with you so I just-”

“Well, I don’t feel anything! I don’t! I was just using you for a night alright?! How dare you think you’re special enough to tell me something that important, and then expect I’ll tell you the same thing! So if you think I’ll even consider seeing you again, you’re dead wrong. Figlio un’ Puttana. Grow up Prosciutto. The mafia is so much more horrific than you think. Naive moron...”

Marscapone grabbed the paper, tearing it to shreds. Turning to the door, she gave him one last look of contempt, before slamming it hard, leaving to man stunned in the silence.

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

2004. Prosciutto stared out the window of the bedroom, watching the first telltale signs of the morning begin to spring up into action. He always did get up early in the morning, even when he was little. There was always so much to be done. So many people to take care of. The blonde let out a lazy yawn and stretched at the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck to rid the area of an annoying ache. When he tried to get up though, an arm coiled around his waist, accompanied by a small, raspy groan telling him to stay. Prosciutto smiled tiredly and turned back to see you beginning to wake. With a heavy sigh, you sat up from your spot on the bed and nudged closer behind him, your bare chest pressing against his naked back while you both stared out the window at the waking city of Naples. You rest your face into his shoulder, gently pecking the base of his neck affectionately, causing your fellow mafioso’s breath to hitch.

You chuckle a bit. “Do you have a mission today?”

Prosciutto shook his head slowly before turning around to face you with a smile. “Do you?”

You give him a smirk before shaking your head, only to let out a cackle as your love pushed you back down to the bed and began to teasingly lay kisses all over your neck and chest. His fingers in tandem scale down your sides, causing you to giggle wildly at the touch.

“Prosci, we need to head to work!”

You try to object amidst your laughing. Prosciutto turned his head to look up at you, your eyes meeting his intense gaze before he leaned in to give you a heated kiss. You squirmed a bit under his passionate advances, but once you gained your footing, your arms snaked around his neck, your legs entangled with one another’s, and you asked against his lips for more once he broke the kiss for air. Prosciutto looked at you confused.

“More? But you said we had work?”

You watched him about to get off of the bed to get ready, so willing to tease you even after all that excitement. Nope, you weren’t having any of it. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you turn the both of you over so you’re straddling his waist, chaining him to the bed with a full view of your bare form. You gave your boyfriend a loving smile, moving to stroke his cheek and tuck a stray piece of blond hair behind his ear. The blonde purred a little and moved to put his hands on your waist. He then grinned his signature grin.

“Come Bambina. Let’s have the morning just to ourselves.” You agree eagerly and gladly take his lips in yours, reaching down to cover both of you with the blanket to guard against the cold winter air.

When you were first assigned to La Squadra, you were by extension immediately assigned to Prosciutto, with Risotto Nero figuring that it’d be a similar situation to Pesci in that you seemingly required proper training before you were ready to bear the moral weight of ending a life. It wasn’t until the first mission that you had with your ‘tutor’, where you killed the target more efficiently than he could have ever done, did the senior assassin ask how you were so comfortable with the mafia life.

You explained you’d always been in the mafia, your father was, your mother was, your siblings were. It was only by extension that you would be as well. You had seen more violence as a teenager than most adults can even imagine. From that point on, Prosciutto felt an immediate comradery with you, wanting your help on duo missions now that Pesci was able to act on his own. Soon, that comradery turned into seemingly unrequited lust, into indulgence, into love. And now, you two had been dating for three years and were so much more than teammates. You ignored his past of constant lust for others, trusting wholeheartedly that it was just the two of you now. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Neither did he.

Prosciutto loved you more than anything in the whole world. But he wasn’t sure about so many things. Countless nights the two of you laid in bed together, you mumbling about wedding plans and even the idea of having children, and Prosciutto absently listening. The grown man, now hardened by his life as a criminal, had become much more wary of the world around him. He trusted you, having put his life in your hands several times, and vice versa, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the next step with you. This life you two had together was just too dangerous for any of those naive wishes, something he learned long ago. He could never be a hero. He couldn’t be a gullible, well-meaning, lovesick little boy anymore.

The assassin couple soon rose from the bed, both the man and woman entirely satisfied after indulging in each other’s bodies. Prosciutto watched your bare form stretch and soak in the sun spilling in from the window, nervously reaching into the bedside drawer to grab a cigarette after putting his pants on. Prosciutto slipped on his pendant, then his yellow dress shirt, thinking to himself.

What would he even do without you?

He remembered the night you told him your real name, and he froze up, unable to tell you his in return. He remembers your sobs at the rejection, you calling your whole relationship into question, the guilt he felt about that night. But you were patient, and you stayed with him because you knew he would honor the vow you had just made to him.

Prosciutto turned and watched you dress as well, your back to him, unaware that his eyes were drinking you in, yet chocking slightly as he gazed on the cuts and scars dawning your back. Your stand was much more physical than his stand was, and there had been many a night where you would be the one sitting at the kitchen table being treated by him, only his code name pouring from your lips in gratitude.

Life was so short for the two of you. He had made so many mistakes. With his parents. With old lovers. With you. With how careless he was being, the man feared life was bound to end soon for him, and he couldn’t leave this Earth without speaking the ultimate vow to you. Prosciutto stood still, in shock of the thought he was having. But he was ready. Chewing on his bottom lip, the mafioso rubbed out the cigarette and combed his fingers through his hair, unsure of how he should finally say it to you. Calmly, he walked up to you, staying close behind you with a nervous smile while you stood in front of the mirror getting ready. It was now or never.

“What is it Prosciutto?”

You turned around after noticing, and the man soon gently captured your attention of a loving kiss, leaving you humming in pleasure as your mouth met the sweet contact. You smiled at the end of that seemingly normal kiss, only to squeak a bit when your boyfriend’s arms embraced you in a tight hug.

“Babe stop I still need to get ready…Prosciutto?” You muttered nervously, hearing his fast heartbeat. The blond looked down and took your hand in his, clenching it tightly. Leaning down to your ear, the loving, trusting mafioso whispered.

“...Andino.”

Your eyes widened, your brain slowly processing what had just been said. For months you wished he’d just say that very thing to you, even after you admitted yours to him. You looked up to meet his gaze, both of you almost pushed to tears. You smiled softly, stroking his cheek.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’ll miss Prosciutto.”

“He didn’t go anywhere. I’ll always be with you, amore.”

#jjba #jjba hc #jjba writing #jojo writing #prosciutto #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo #la squadra #long fic #real name series #cw arguing #not sfw-ish?#idk

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syntaxeme · 4 years

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Giardino Segreto ch. 8

[Read on AO3] | [First chapter] | [Next chapter] Rating: T Chapter summary: Molly is wary of Angel's new 'family' and their intentions. But are her suspicions based on observation or misinformation? One has to wonder where she's getting these ideas.

— — –

While Alastor sat aside and waited for Angel to join them, Venture was a veritable flurry of action, sorting through files, making calls, meeting with family members and giving orders. Granted, they had only been working together for the past month or so, but the change in her performance was shocking nevertheless. ‘Trying harder,’ indeed!

An hour or so after Alastor had entered the office, the doors swept open again to reveal a properly-dressed and put-together Angel with Molly in tow. She observed the space with wide eyes as she followed him inside and he explained proudly, “So this is my office. You met my consigliere already. Everything goin’ okay down here, Venn?”

While she might have normally responded with a clever quip or a tongue-in-cheek ‘no thanks to you,’ she instead gave him a curt nod, only looking up from her work briefly. “I’m drafting a contract for Cherri’s Dust dealer. I’ll need you to look over it by the end of the day so I can finalize that deal. The Cortezes got back to us with an offer this morning too, so let me know when you’re ready to discuss it.” And back she went to writing up the contract.

“Uh, yeah, will do.” Angel gave Alastor a confused look, as if to ask What’s up with her? but the Radio Demon could only shrug. It wasn’t as if he could explain to Angel the conversation they’d had earlier and the real reason for her increase in productivity. The boss frowned and turned back to Molly. “Eh, she’s usually more fun than that”—he shot her a look to see if his jab had provoked a response, but there was none—“but I guess she’s…busy today. Hey, Al, I’m givin’ Molls a tour around the place. Wanna come with?”

“Happy to,” Alastor agreed, much preferring an upbeat Angel to the very concentrated Venture. He joined Molly in following the boss downstairs to the ground floor and couldn’t help feeling that even though Angel was leading her around the building and pointing out all its various features, she was watching Alastor warily the entire time. Had he done something to offend her? Was his first impression in Angel’s room enough to make her assume he was up to no good? He could only hope his smile would make him seem less threatening—though he was aware it often had the opposite effect.

“And look, you’re gonna like this,” Angel was saying, holding Molly’s hand as they came back to the lobby and he led the way up the stairs to the mezzanine and lounge area. In addition to the bar, there was a sprawling seating area with armchairs and loveseats, along with a more unusual addition, which Angel had insisted was necessary: a grand piano where, every night, one of their host of demons would provide live music for the guests. And, just as he’d predicted, Molly lit up at the sight.

“Ooh, it’s gorgeous,” she cooed, hurrying across the room to seat herself at the bench and run her hand along the cover over the keys. As Angel and Alastor joined her, she looked up at her brother with eyes sparkling in excitement. “Can I…?”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist,” he laughed, leaning against the side of the piano. “Knock yourself out.”

She lifted the cover, quickly found her fingering, and started to play with ease, evidently from memory. Angel went to stand over her shoulder and watch her hands move, so Alastor joined at his other side. He didn’t recognize the tune, but it was lovely regardless, and Molly played without a single falter or sour note. He somehow felt a bit more respect for her, seeing how focused and skilled she was at what he knew for a fact was a difficult instrument to master. For a moment, he entertained the idea of joining her—but it seemed a step too far. Maybe he would demonstrate his skills at another time.

“She’s good,” he noted honestly.

“Always has been,” Angel agreed with the slightest smile on his lips. It wasn’t the cocky grin he usually wore, all smug, pushy bravado; it was softer, more genuine, and Alastor finally realized how much it had been upsetting him to be separated from his twin.

That was only natural, all things considered. She was always the one to support him through their father’s violent outbursts, the only one in the Dellarosa household he could confide in and look to for understanding. Having that so suddenly removed from his life to be replaced by an army of demons who hardly knew him… Alastor could only imagine how it must feel. He watched as Angel sat at her side, looking more relaxed than ever, and he realized this was a problem.

Angel missed his sister. He was happier for her presence. Meaning that when she left to return to the Dellarosas, when she became ‘the enemy’ again, he would be utterly miserable. They couldn’t have that. Not only would it be a detriment to Angel’s overall mood, but it could interfere with his goal of taking down the Dellarosa family in the long run. Something would have to be done.

As Molly finished her song to light applause from the few guests in the area, she blushed and smiled bashfully. “Still got it,” Angel told her with a grin.

“Never lost it,” she teased back. “Hope I didn’t bother anyone.”

“Please, they should be thankin’ you,” he said, waving off her concerns. “Besides, I own the place; we can do what we want.”

“I still don’t get how you pulled it off. I mean, I saw this place a couple months ago, and it was a wreck!” Her eyes lingered on the glittering chandelier above them. “And I thought the owners were gonna demo it or somethin’. How’d you get ‘em to hand it over?”

“Eh, I had some help from my sottocapo here.” Angel nodded in Alastor’s direction. “This guy might not look like it, but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeves ya wouldn’t expect. He bought the place for a song and then gave it to me as a”—he tossed Alastor a smarmy smirk over his shoulder—“token of his affection. Didn’t ya, honey?”

You have no idea.

“You’re absolutely right, cher. You might also call it an investment.” There was something gratifying in the knowledge that Angel would so readily flirt with him around others, including his sister, even if in a teasing way. It felt legitimizing in a way, as if they did actually have some sort of relationship already. Of course, Alastor tried to take that satisfaction with a grain of salt, as the boss didn’t hesitate to flirt with anyone, but it still felt different when addressed at him. More specific, less flippant.

“Affection, huh?” Molly said, eyeing Alastor skeptically.

“Oh, come on, don’t make that face.” Angel nudged his shoulder into hers. “Not every guy I get with is a complete asshole.”

‘Get with’? That was a conveniently vague description of what was going on between the two of them.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Molly answered, pursing her lips. “Anyway, this is all nice, but I wanna know where the real business goes on. I know you and your consigliere run things upstairs, but what about the soldatos? What about the caporegimes? It can’t be just the few of you.”

“They stay in the rooms all over; it ain’t the same as Pop’s place where everybody’s separated. I got capos on floor twelve and floor two. I got soldatos on floor ten and floor five. They’re just around.”

“But.” Molly’s face twisted into a pretty frown of confusion. “How do you keep everyone in line like that?”

“Oh, that’s not an issue,” Alastor answered before realizing he might be stepping on Angel’s toes. Still, the boss gestured for him to go on, so he continued, “Every member of our family has known since their arrival that Angel is the one in charge. We’ve only been in business a short time, but every day he makes it clearer that he knows what he’s doing and is someone to be trusted. I know without doubt that our people see that and respect it.” Angel beamed at his compliments, and he meant every word.

“It’s pretty impressive to have their loyalty after just a month or so,” Molly noted. “How many’d you say there are?”

“Like two hundred, give or take.”

She bit her lip, the gesture eerily reminiscent of Angel’s habit of doing the same. But why should she be nervous at the moment? “That’s way more than Papa’s got,” she said with a weak laugh.

“Yeah, that was kinda the point,” Angel agreed with a satisfied smirk. This was another particular he had stipulated when the Giardinos first began. “Gonna be a lot easier runnin’ him outta business when we can prove we got better forces.”

The young woman drew into herself slightly, legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded delicately in her lap. “You’re really serious about that?” she asked gently.

“C’mon, Molls.” The boss let out a sigh and pushed to his feet. “Don’t get all weepy about it. I know ya don’t like thinkin’ about it, but you can’t act like he doesn’t deserve some kinda payback for all the shit he’s put me through. I ain’t askin’ ya to help me do it, but ya ain’t gonna stop me either.”

“No, I know,” Molly said hastily, her hands clasping tighter as she looked up at him with what seemed more like concern than irritation. “I’m sorry, caro. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m not happy for you. I am. I’ve just been worried. You’ve been gone all this time, and nobody knew what you were up to. I’ve never been away from you that long before, especially not knowin’ why. It was scary.”

Angel ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back from his eyes, visibly fighting guilt over his sister’s discomfort. “Yeah, I get it. Look, why don’t we take a step back from the whole business thing for a minute?” He paused to check his watch. “I’ll take you to lunch or somethin’ and we can just talk like normal for a while. Okay?”

She smiled sheepishly. “I’d like that, Angelino.”

“C’mon, then. Lemme show ya around my part of town a little.” The two started toward the stairs, but he paused when he realized Alastor wasn’t following. “You comin’, Al?”

It was difficult to miss the distinct pout on Molly’s face as she turned to continue on her way as if she hadn’t noticed Angel stopping. Difficult to misinterpret her attitude toward Alastor. “Actually, I think I have some work to get done here,” he said apologetically.

“Work?” Angel scoffed. “Since when d’you have work? I don’t remember givin’ ya anything to do lately.”

“Then I’ll find something to keep myself occupied.” Lowering his voice slightly, he nodded toward Molly. “I think your sister would prefer to spend time with you alone. Not that I can blame her.”

“Well. What if I need you or somethin’?” Angel insisted, arms crossed, pouting a bit himself.

“Then call me, and I’ll come to you.”

The boss let out a frustrated huff. “But I wanted you two—”

“Angel?” Molly called, standing by the stairs. Nothing in her voice was demanding or whiny, nothing in her smile signaling impatience. “I thought we were leavin’.”

“Just a minute,” he answered, waving a hand at her, obviously still not satisfied with where he and Alastor were leaving off.

“If it’s going to bother you, I’ll come along, cher. I could also follow discreetly in case you run into any trouble. It’s up to you.”

The boss let out a sigh and shrugged. “Nah, forget it. I been away all this time; least I can give her is an hour or two for just us. I’ll see ya when we get back.” His eyes flickered down to Alastor’s lips, and he started to lean closer, then thought better of it and backed away, giving a weak half-smile as he went to meet his twin at the stairs. As they left together, that smile quickly turned more genuine, and Alastor’s chest constricted with unwarranted jealousy.

— — —

Luckily, he wasn’t allowed much time to dwell on whatever angst Angel’s outing with Molly had instilled. Looking for something to do with himself, as promised, he went back up to the third floor and the office, where he found Venture in a meeting with a group of three capos. Her eyes darted toward the door as he entered, then she went on with her conversation.

“I don’t want excuses, gentlemen: I want answers,” she said plainly. “This isn’t grounds for an execution or even an expulsion, but when the boss hears about it, he’s not going to be happy, and he’ll want the name of whoever’s responsible. You’re going to get me that name. Understood?” All three nodded in silence, and she dismissed them with a flick of her hand, turning her attention to Alastor instead. “Where’s Angel?” The usual languid self-assurance in her voice had been replaced with a certain no-nonsense quality to match her sudden severe attitude shift.

“He took Molly to lunch. He said they should be back in an hour or two,” the Radio Demon explained, wandering over to her corner of the room to look over her desk, which was far busier than usual just as she was.

Venture let out a clipped sigh. “Of course he did. First the distraction with you this morning, now a personal visit—with one of our rivals, no less. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll be able to spare some attention for the business too. Our don is quite a popular man,” she grumbled, even her writing fevered and frustrated as she scribbled down some note or another and scanned over the many stacks of papers on her desk to categorize it.

“Ahem. Is there anything I might do to help?” Alastor suggested, almost wishing she would take back her vow to so thoroughly devote herself to the Giardinos’ success; she was so much less fun this way.

“Oh, do you work here?” she chuckled, finally raising her eyes to meet his. That was the same sentiment Angel had expressed, and he still didn’t care for the suggestion that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“You should know better than anyone, my friend, that I’m every bit as capable a man as one could find in these halls,” he answered indignantly, gesturing toward the rest of the hotel. “Just you tell me what needs doing and I’ll see that it gets done.”

“Is that so?”

It seemed as if Venture took those words as more a challenge than an assurance. Somehow, she had a never-ending list of errands to be run, ranging from within the hotel itself to a few blocks down the way to the opposite end of Manhattan. Alastor, ever a man of his word and always up for a challenge, fulfilled every directive she issued, from pressing their lessees for unpaid ‘taxes’ to seeking out some poor fool who had borrowed money from the family and then gone awol.

Over the course of his trials—which had by then become a matter of principle—he must have lost track of time; he returned to the hotel with a bundle of dossiers Venture had sent him practically all the way to the Bronx for, but stopped outside the office when he found Molly waiting there on her own.

“Nice to see you again, but I feel you’re missing something. Have you lost Angel?” He tried to joke, but her smile was sympathetic at best.

“He’s inside,” she said, nodding toward the door. “His consigliere really wanted to go over this deal they’re doing with the Cortezes, so…maybe not the best time to go in.”

“I see.” He wondered how Angel was dealing with Venture’s paradigm shift.

“Our family doesn’t really deal with the Cortezes,” Molly mused, absently twirling a pale blond curl around and around her finger. “Papa says they got too much Spanish in ‘em. ‘No sense of urgency.’”

“As I understand it, Angel doesn’t subscribe to many of your father’s more traditional ideals,” Alastor answered cautiously.

“Yeah. That was never his bag, I guess.” Her eyes wandered to him, inspecting everything from his hairdo to his fashion sense to the spectacles perched on his nose. “He talks about you an awful lot.”

He could only hope his smile didn’t look too self-satisfied. “That makes sense. We work together closely, so he spends a lot of time around me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not really the way ya talk about a coworker. He doesn’t talk about his consigliere like that. Plus I saw how ‘close’ you two were this morning.” Some of the sweetness had faded from her voice since her earlier conversation with Angel.

“May I ask why that bothers you?” What about being involved with Angel is inherently a sin?

“It doesn’t,” she said unconvincingly. “Just makes me a little nervous how he’s trustin’ all these people he barely knows like they’re a real family.” There was nothing catty or snide in her tone; she genuinely just sounded worried.

“With all due respect,” Alastor started at length, “his ‘real’ family, present company excluded, have proven they aren’t all worth trusting.”

For the first time, he saw a distinct scowl crease her face. “What d’you know about it?”

“Only what Angel’s told me. I wouldn’t try to explain your own family to you, but my point is that this change of scenery—and company—has done him nothing but good.” He tried to be as gentle and unobtrusive as possible in noting all this, to make his point without making Molly feel attacked. Not an effort he would make for just anyone. “Doesn’t he seem happier to you?”

“I guess,” she mumbled, winding her hair tighter around her fingers. “But it’s not right, him bein’ away from home. It’s not where he belongs. Family’s supposed to stick together, especially families like ours.” There was a hint of nervous panic sneaking into her tone, as if these concerns had been building up all day but she’d been afraid to voice them to Angel. “What if somethin’ happens? What if he needs help and we’re not there? What if he gets hurt and I’m not around to take care of him?”

In some ways, her concern for Angel resembled his own more than, say, Cherri’s. She wasn’t aggressive or controlling. She didn’t act as if she knew what was best for her brother better than he did himself. She simply recognized that the world—especially the world her family lived in—was a dangerous one and wanted to be present to see him through it. Because she loved him.

That was a sentiment Alastor understood.

“You don’t have to worry about all that, my dear. I can promise you, as I’ve promised Angel: I won’t let him come to harm. Whatever it takes, for as long as I’m breathing, I’m going to keep him safe.” Alastor was almost surprised at the fervor with which he made these promises, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. The passion that burned in Angel was the sort that spread to anyone he touched.

“But. But if…” She was biting her lip again, her shoulders tense as she struggled to accept what she was hearing.

“I understand your concern. Truly. But please believe me when I say that here, among this group and in this role, is where he belongs.”

Molly took a slow breath, then gave a small nod. “I think you might be right.” She covered her eyes with one hand in what at first looked like a sign of frustration. Then her shoulders trembled slightly, her breath came out in a shuddering sigh, and Alastor realized with horror that she was crying. A bolt of panic shot through him as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong and how on Earth he could fix it. This was the last thing he’d wanted!

“I. Er. I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean—”

As luck would have it, this was the point at which Angel exited the office. He paused for a split-second, saw his sister in tears as Alastor hesitantly reached out to her, and rushed over in alarm to pull her close. “Hey, what’s wrong, passerotta? What happened?” Shooting a defensive glare at Alastor, he hissed, “What’d you do?”

While the demon was at a loss, unable to explain any part of the turn this conversation had just taken, Molly was shaking her head, trying to speak past her tears. “No, no. It’s not him, caro,” she managed, burying her face against Angel’s shoulder. “It’s me. I’m the one who… I-I was so worried about you, and he said you weren’t safe here—”

“Alastor?” Angel asked, confused, but she shook her head again.

“Papa.”

#RadioDust #Giardino Segreto #Hanahaki Disease #human!Angel Dust #mob boss Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Alastor #Hazbin Molly #anyway so help me god Angel is getting laid in the next chapter

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jamkookies · 5 years

Text

Comfortable

Description: A trip to Malta for the shooting of Bon Voyage seems peaceful enough until the moment things take an unexpected turn...

Word count: 2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At this point, you're convinced that there's a mysterious astronomical force set on making your life miserable.

What was luck and why had you never met him?

"Get down!" Jungkook whispers and you're pulled by the arm onto the floor, crouching behind the rows of chairs.

"They still haven't left?" you wonder in a low voice. "Out of all days..."

Jungkook peeks his head out for a second and retreats into the comforts of the hidden spot almost immediately. "What are we gonna do now?" he says while chewing on his lip.

Maybe this was a sign, you think to yourself. Every possible situation, every coincidence led to this conclusion. "This is your chance to go with them, Jungkook. Manager-nim will not dare do anything as long the others are there. Talk to them."

That spark of anger flickers behind his eyes once again. You knew it was coming but that was not gonna stop you from at least making an effort on trying to change his mind.

"Well, this is your chance to shut up." he retorts, letting out a noise of impatience.

Well...you tried.

Suddenly, he grips the duffel bag tight in one hand and pulls you by the shirt, motioning for you to walk down the rows of chairs in a crouched posture. The bizarre action attracts a few curious eyes your way but you couldn't care less. It was not the first time your stealth mode had been activated anyway, having been on a wild series of misadventures for the past days.

"Come on." Jungkook drags you along in quick hurried steps and leads you both out of the boys' sight. It is only until he has detected a women's toilet sign that he stops, pausing in front of the door.

"Look if there's anyone inside," he says and nudges you in.

"Why?" you ask.

"Just do it."

Still not ripping your eyes off of him, you silently push the door open and enter inside, checking all of the cabins for any people. Fortunately (or unfortunately, since you're not really sure why is this important to him) the space is clear of any peering eyes.

You swing the door wide open to reveal an impatient looking Jungkook waiting on the other side and you gesture for him to come inside. He crosses the doorstep in a rush, flinging the duffel bag on top of the marble counter. "Take your shirt off, " he demands in a suspiciously serious tone.

You burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Look, I know you're frustrated and all that but this is really not the time," you say, still incredulous to what he'd just asked from you.

It's his turn to laugh now. "You're wearing the same damn clothes from the first day we got here, " he explains. "They're gonna recognize you on sight."

You look down at yourself and realize that he was right.

Like you said.

Luck just wasn't on your side no matter what you did.

"What about you?" you ask him. "Jin hyung gave you that sweater and I'm pretty sure he knows his stuff."

"I'll change my clothes too," he admits.

"Fine then. But turn around."

"What? Are you shy around me?"

"Yes."

He shakes his head and does what he's told, rummaging inside the bag for his own things. You quickly pull the shirt over your head and extend your hand towards him, retrieving the newly bought blouse. But what you don't miss is the flick of his eyes to the mirror, catching a small glimpse of your now exposed upper body. Fortunately for you, your assets are covered securely, nothing inappropriate where it shouldn't be, but you can't help but give him a kick in the butt.

"I saw that!"

"Sorry!" He squeaks, averting his eyes.

After you're done dressing up, you nudge him on his shoulder and he resumes his rummaging, probably looking for something to wear himself. He pulls a black long-sleeved shirt that you were convinced was too loose for him.

"You don't have to turn around, " he smirks and before you have time to contemplate, he pulls his sweater over his head, giving you a high-quality view of his chiseled, sun-kissed body. You don't turn around but don't stare at him either, choosing to just look away for the sake of the heat threatening to warm your ears.

He glares at you through the mirror. "I can't believe you're acting all shy after we–"

"Just hurry up!" you cut him off.

You're not sure if running around the place had taken a toll on his brain because next thing you know, the shirt is hanging limply on his hand while he makes agonizingly slow steps in your direction. He's doing this on purpose—the sway of his hips making his abdomen clench and release with each step— to make you flustered, to probably see that blush creep up on your face because he knows how it will affect you.

Your eyes never leave his form, even after he's finished with his little strut and fully standing in front of you.

Every little detail is on full display.

The hard ridges of his abdomen, the goosebumps on his skin caused by the chilly air, and the tiny light-brown flecks in his eyes.

The eyes that are staring right at you.

He closes the microscopic distance that you didn't think was possible to narrow further and traps you with each palm on the marble counter, pushing you against it. "You know, I kinda like it when you get all flustered but then again, I don't," he breathes in your face and you can feel it fluttering your eyelashes.

"Flustered? Says who?"

"Says me," he answers in a low voice.

Neither mischief nor playfulness is visible on his face anymore.

Just calmness and affection.

He's looking at you like you're a glass sculpture that might break from any moment, memorizing each line of your face to keep it on his mind. "I want you to feel comfortable with me. Touch me, hug me, kiss me wherever and whenever you feel like it. I don't care."

His hands on each side of yours clutch the counter and he slightly shakes his head, making his long, dark locks sway with him as well. "And I'm sorry if I take it too far sometimes. I know it annoys you. But I only do it because I want you to act the same way and not like we're strangers. I want us to feel like we've been together since the beginning because that's how it actually is."

You can see that his eyes have turned glassy.

"I just... I just want to be yours and no one else's, " he finishes with one final breath.

You'd never witnessed such honesty in his words. He had just poured out his whole feelings and emotions in those short sentences, making you realize all over again why you had fallen for him, why things were the way they were. All of your insecurities disappear into oblivion as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him close to you, not being able to resist the lack of contact.

Such a familiar thing his bare skin— warm and welcoming to your touch as you hover your lips on the side of his neck and plant a kiss there. His own arms wrap around your waist and he snuggles further into you.

No other words needed.

Not when the both of you were hugging like there's no tomorrow, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies.

This felt right.

There was no one who could—

The door flies open.

An old woman steps a foot inside, but from the moment she looks at the scene unfolding in front of her, her eyes flicking rapidly between you and a shirtless Jungkook, her features twist into a look of disgust and she slams the door shut behind her.

Oh great.

Now she's gonna think you're perverts trying to let off some steam in the nearest getaway.

Jungkook looks startled by the sudden interruption so he tries to disentangle himself from you but you're not ready to let go yet, grabbing onto him even tighter.

He chuckles. "We're gonna miss our flight."

You push him off with a force you didn't know you had and stagger to the duffel bag, gripping it with one hand. "Oh my God, I completely forgot! Damn you and your...irritatingly nice words!"

The shirt is finally on him in a swift motion. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did, " you admit and make for the door, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"To the check-in."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Your eyes shift from left to right, trying to dig in your memory for something you might've left out but Jungkook is quick to come to your aid, pulling out two pair of black masks from his pocket.

"I didn't even see you buy those! What the hell!" you exclaim.

"That's because you were too busy looking at stuffed animals." he snickers.

"They were cute!"

He pats your head with gentle hands and carefully tucks a string behind your ear. "So are you."

His little speech from earlier reminds you to suppress that familiar feeling of embarrassment and you just smile in return, silently taking the mask from him. It doesn't take long for the both of you to make an effort on covering yourselves up to the point of unrecognition.

At least you hope so.

Because you don't have the slightest idea of what to do if the boys spot you. Maybe you'll start running in circles like a madman, maybe you'll talk gibberish to pretend you're a local, who knows?

Still, these ideas don't comfort you not even one bit as you know stand in line with Jungkook, the boys nowhere to be seen.

"Where did they go?" your whisper is heard behind the mask.

"I don't know, " Jungkook whispers back. "Maybe they already passed through the gate."

The tiny spark of hope that flutters in your chest is immediately crushed to bits when you hear a jumble of Korean words standing out in the midst of all the hustle and bustle. You throw a subtle look behind your shoulder and don't know whether to cry, laugh, panic or all of the above.

The boys are all huddled up into a group, talking animatedly with each other about something important, seeming really immersed into the conversation.

"The important thing is that I didn't lose it, so shut up, " you hear Namjoon's voice, which has a suspiciously angry tinge to it.

"To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if you did because that passport of yours is cursed." Jin interferes.

"I think hyung is the one who's cursed." Jimin.

When they join the queue, you snap your head straight ahead and squeeze Jungkook's hand, interlocked with yours. "They're behind u— don't look," you warn when he attempts to turn his head back.

The boys' voices become louder and clearer by the second until they finally come to a halt. You pretend to drop something and sneak a look on the way down but regret it from the moment your eyes land on Hoseok, a foot or two behind you.

How the hell had they gotten so close?

Your body is tense from the proximity, the idea of having them so close and yet not being able to do anything— a living fear that was keeping you on edge.

At last, the couple in front of you finishes with the procedure, leaving the check-in desk open. Both you and Jungkook silently hand the man your passport and wait.

You knew it was coming.

"Remove your masks, please." he demands.

With shaking hands, you do as you're told, letting the man take a good look at your face in order to confirm your identity. But then, the damned mask really slips from your hands and onto the ground this time. You quickly bend down to retrieve it and that's where your biggest mistake yet happens.

Right before turning around, your eyes clash with Hoseok's.

It was just for a fraction and you're not even sure if he was really looking at you or just staring off into space.

Quickening steps behind you.

Your heart starts thundering into your chest and you unconsciously grab Jungkook's hand into a surely painful squeeze.

Your mask is not on.

If you turn around now, he will definitely recognize you.

"Hyung, come take your bag. It's heavy."

Taehyung's voice joins him and the steps falter. "What's wrong?"

"I think I saw... never mind."

Oh, thank God.

You mentally send a silent thanks to your old roommate for saving you from an unavoidable disaster.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to steer you away from them. The conversation had obviously reached his ears as well. You don't stop until you've finished the whole procedure and you've safely taken a seat onto your assigned numbers inside the plane. Jungkook slumps with a heavy sigh, taking the mask off for a breather.

"That was close," he huffs and you can't help but agree.

"Remind me to buy Taehyung an ice cream when all of this is over," you say and collapse onto your own seat. A few moments of silence pass along, broken only by the occasional mumbles of other people taking their seats.

"Y/N?" Jungkook calls in a raspy voice.

"Yeah?"

"I need a hug."

"Yes, sir."

You take him into your arms, letting his head fall on your chest. Your fingers thread themselves into his hair, unable to resist the soft, fluffy crown that constantly rises and falls, harmonizing with the rhythm of your breathing.

"We're going home, Kook."

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jokertrap-ran · 5 years

Photo

Collar X Malice ~UNLIMITED~ ADONIS Route Translations (Part 1)

Translator’s note : MC’s name shall remain as my normal (ラン) Spoiler FREE : Translations under cut !

Ran Hoshino: Pardon the intrusion.

I opened the cathedral's doors and stepped inside.

I bowed on one knee before the person inside turned to acknowledge my presence.

Ran Hoshino: You called for me, Zero?

Zero: Ahh. Thanks for your hard work.

The one who had been waiting for me in the cathedral was of course, none other than Adonis' head, Zero.

Zero: Why so humble? Haven't I always told you that that's not necessary?

His words echoed around me with a tone that indicated his slight displeasure. Perhaps he didn't like my attitude.

Ran Hoshino: Not doing so would set a bad example for others.

Ran Hoshino: You are a symbol to us, one of hope. Death befalls those who desecrate it.

Zero: Sigh... You're really alike after all. Or, should I say that you've come to resemble him?

Ran Hoshino: ...? Who are you talking about?

Zero: Rei, I mean. Lately, your words resemble his.

Ran Hoshino: ...I resemble Mikuni-sama...? Such words are unbefitting of me.

Rei Mikuni is the founder of Adonis and he's closer to you than anyone else.

I can't find any features that I might share with an existence that’s higher than mine.

Considering Rei's origins, his position within Adonis, and his thinking, it would be impossible for someone like me to be similar to him in any way or manner.

Zero: ...Well, whatever. Putting that aside, there's something I'd like to ask of you.

Ran Hoshino: Of course, your wish is my command.

I feel like we're finally onto the main topic of why he called me here. As I rightened my kneeling posture, his voice echoed around me.

Zero: I want you to do the "selection" in my place.

Ran Hoshino: ...You're asking of me to do that?

Zero: The rebirth of Adonis...it will start very soon.

Ran Hoshino: Yes, preparations have been proceeding smoothly. No mistakes will be made this time.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

--The plan to restart X-Day,

an event that was thwarted 2 years ago. A coup d'etat by Adonis... A plan for terrorism.

Back then, an X-Day incident would happen once per month; Terrorist acts which plunged the nation into fear.

However, the police managed to stop their plans, thus preventing X-Day from happening. Adonis had their lowest ranking members serve as decoys while the core members went into hiding.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Ran Hoshino: (For two years, we've tread carefully behind the scenes.)

This was to ensure that we won't be noticed by the public even if something went wrong, to avoid attracting even the slightest bit of suspicion to ourselves.

The day of rebirth draws near. Each day that draws to a close is a step closer to our goal.

Zero: Of course, we can't afford to be as reckless as we were 2 years ago. Just being feared is enough for now. ...Judas.

Zero: ...Everything will be in vain if there is a Judas.

Ran Hoshino: ......!?

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Judas; the term we used to represent traitors.

Not knowing why he brought up the subject, I decided to prod him for more information.

Ran Hoshino: ...Is this one of your premonitions?

Zero: No...It's my conclusion after observing this situation for 2 years. No one has acted even a foot out of place. Everyone has fared and progressed far more than I expected.

Zero: Still, they might be waiting for the right time to strike. That's precisely why we have to keep our guards up.

Ran Hoshino: ...You must be implying that this is a mission regarding the Executors of the X-Day incidents 2 years ago, me included.

"Executors": This title was given to a specific group of people within the organization.

They were ordinary citizens who laid down the path leading to X-Day. A group of 8, consisting of both men and women alike, they exacted Adonis' will and judgement.

They formally joined Adonis as official members when the organization went into hiding, just like me.

...That's also the reason why Akito Sera is here.

Zero: I'm keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I reckon they won't slip-up so easily.

Zero: ...But still, seeing as we're only one month away from the restart of X-Day, I believe that any potential Judas will soon make their move.

Zero: If they're truly plotting to thwart our plans, there's a higher chance that they'll become bolder. It's very likely that the Judas will make a mistake.

Zero: For us, we just have to find the right time to uncover the Judas' identities and dispose of them.

Ran Hoshino: ......

I understand the reasoning behind his conclusion. We have to act at once if there are people who want to interfere with us.

Even if they're carrying out their actions with extreme caution, they'll definitely make a mistake or two in the long-run. We'll use that opportunity to crush them once and for all.

...However, the question still remains.

Ran Hoshino: I suspect that it's just as you say. But wouldn't that place me in the same situation as everyone else? Why did you assign me to this mission?

Shouldn't I be the most suspicious target, considering that I wasn't always an Executor?

Despite all of that...Zero only laughed off my concerns.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Zero: That's because I trust you. Ran Hoshino: ......

I could only meet his gaze as he tilted my chin upwards with a finger.

...Like always, I was unable to get a read on his emotions.

Ran Hoshino: ...It is my honor. Please leave it to me.

Zero: The expression you're making really doesn't match up with what you're saying. Aren't you happy?

Ran Hoshino: Even though I feel honored from the bottom of my heart?

Zero: ...Well, let's leave it at that.

Zero: You have a month to accomplish this mission. Present to me your findings 3 days before the plan is put into action.

Ran Hoshino: Roger that.

I nodded reflexively in reply as the gears in my brain started to turn.

Ran Hoshino: (This is my chance to prove myself...!)

The circumstances were too good to be true. This however, was no mere coincidence. It was an inevitable outcome.

Considering him, this man had probably given everyone in the upper ranks the exact same order.

Ran Hoshino: Keisuke Sanjou, Suzune Uno, Shion Uno, Manabu Souda, Rika Sugawara, Akito Sera, Hanako Kobayashi and Tomoki Ogata. Am I correct to assume that they are our current suspects?

I listed off their names as I tried to recall their faces. I'm not usually in contact with any of them but we were all affiliated with each other at least once.

Considering that we aren't all that close, I'll probably need a couple of excuses to get closer to them...

Zero: ...No. There's one other person.

Ran Hoshino: And who might that be?

His words snapped me out of my train of thought as I found myself searching for any signs of emotion in his eyes.

--There was absolutely no humor to be found.

Zero: Rei Mikuni. Please look into him as well.

Ran Hoshino: But...

Why would he ask me to do that? I really don't understand this man's intentions at all.

Rei Mikuni cherished him. Much more than anyone else who was a member of Adonis.

In fact, all of his actions, mind and heart were solely devoted to the organization alone ever since it was founded. His position was equal to Zero's.

Ran Hoshino: (Is it possible that that he's betrayed us?)

Zero: That's an order. No questions will be tolerated.

Ran Hoshino: ...Roger.

He had avoided the question and left me hanging with a vague answer.

Turning the case down and hesitating were not an option. I could only nod in reply. Orders were orders after all.

Ran Hoshino: Understood. It will be as you wish, Zero.

I could feel the tension in the air disperse once I formally accepted the mission. I heard a chuckle.

Zero: It's truly a pity about your hair though...

Ran Hoshino: ......?

Zero: Despite how long it was, you cut it short. Aren't you going to grow out your hair again?

Ran Hoshino: I'm also a combatant so it's easier to move without all that extra weight bagging me down...

Zero: Your current hairstyle's not all too bad but I think that having long hair suits you better... ...I liked it better that way.

Ran Hoshino: ......

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

I looked back in silence, unsure of how I should react. Zero withdrew the finger he had under my chin.

Ran Hoshino: I will proceed with the investigation at once. ...If that's all you need from me, I will take my leave.

Zero: I look forward to seeing the results of your investigation.

I stood up with my head still bowed. As I turned on my heel to leave, I found myself surveying the room out of habit. This cathedral is Adonis' sanctuary. A forbidden area.

That's to say that wherever Adonis goes, this cathedral follows. If Adonis changes hideouts, this place would be rebuilt in exactly the same way as it is now.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

--The tragedy that befell "that day" didn't happen here. But, it’s still crystal clear. The air, thick with the metallic smell of blood and those eyes of despair.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Zero: ...Something the matter?

Ran Hoshino: ...No, It's nothing. Please excuse me.

I firmly turned away and left the cathedral this time.

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

Ran Hoshino: (I can't let this opportunity slip past me...)

Even if he's just manipulating me within the palm of his hand.

During my 2 years here, I tried looking into the executors mentioned earlier.

Previously, they were ordinary civilians whom you could find just about anywhere.

They weren't originally members of Adonis who had been used as pawns either. They were used because they had a common interest at heart. That was the most likely the case.

Ran Hoshino: (They stand out from the others though. For better or for worse. That means that I would look suspicious even if I tried contacting them through normal means.)

We're all in charge of different things so we haven't talked to each other much at all.

Ran Hoshino: (But...forced contact can be made if an order has been made.)

Gathering them together could prove to be rather convenient if there really are traitors within them.

Ran Hoshino: (It's easier to deceive people with more pawns on hand.)

One month till the restart of X-Day.

For the sake of the "Rebirth" I desire.

Ran Hoshino: (I'll do everything I can...to fulfill my one and only goal!)

—— —— ≿————-　❈　————-≾ —— ——

--And from that day onwards, I carried out my investigation on the "Executors" along with my usual duties. I can't take things lightly anymore if I want to finish these investigations on time.

——≿————-𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊... ————-≾ ——

#Collar X Malice #Collar X Malice Unlimited #Collar X Malice -Unlimited-#CxM #CxM-unlimited-#CxMu #Otome #Translations

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