#me staring blankly at all those words I took time to write: did I even answer the question

[perelka-l]

Do you have any HCs for how Archer interacts with the other execs?

I am of deep belief that those four really get along with each other and are quite a nice quartet, supportive of each other, surprisingly so for four of mobsters. Or maybe not so surprisingly?

Well, first thing is that all of them are united by their trust and adoration towards Giovanni, but there is plenty of yet unexplored ground in terms of what they think about each other.

In Pokemas, Ariana is the only one that mentions Archer and she claims to "allow" Archer to take the number two spot. So yeah, she's envious as heck, which tbh no wonder. Interestingly though I don't think before Pokemas it was ever said if they are equals but I liked the thought that they had the same level in organisation. Well. It kinda of broke a bit my perception of them as as much as I like her being envious, I want to think there a certain level of understanding between her and Archer, sharing same (or at least similar) job and difficulties.

As much as Ariana would want to surpass him, I don't think she would do anything malicious to Archer. It could be that she genuinely likes him (I see this one mostly platonically, even if they cough shared the Boss) or finds value in his leadership and would consider it damaging to TR if she were to get rid of him through more nefarious means... Or she can't resort to such means. After all, I don't think Boss would approve.

Now, as I look through lines, I also noticed that she does call Archer "interim boss" in HGSS, which would indeed hint at him being chosen/taking over and her allowing that. Respect? Yeah, I think that's also here. Now that I ponder on that, maybe they are Rivals? That actually would make a lot of sense.

Proton is a bit harder for me to consider. I once saw a nice hc that it could be Archer that recruited him and he is more eager to follow him in the first place, but at the same time if you read more into his dialogue snippets, he is very dedicated to Giovanni, to the point of proclaiming (in Pokemas) that he would follow Giovanni anyway, TR or no TR.

So, well. Considering that Proton is very eager to be perceived as cruel and untouchable, I would say his sense of loyalty mostly stems from TR providing him space to do whatever he wants and feeling useful for that. Tbh I kind of ignore Pokemas in this regard, because I don't really see him as a follower? I mean, yeah, he could respect Giovanni for what he is and represents, but it just matches better to him if he follows those that allow him to use what he can do to have a purpose aside from senseless violence. And I think he and Archer could make quite a nice combo, as Archer, first or second, could provide him that purpose.

But... OK, OOC Perelka moment coming up but I genuinely struggle to see them as a ship. As in, I can see why and how people would ship that, but personally that never activated my neurons much (feel free to prove me wrong :P) and I would angle towards more platonic stuff. Understanding of limits they would go for to achieve goals always being a neat start. Does it make sense? I am not sure.

Petrel is... kind of tricky. He is in TR but at the same time he isn't like. Entirely Evil. Or is he? He seems to lack Archer's coldness, Ariana's glee or Proton's dedication for evil, and yet. I think it's easy though to go for him as a joker and kind of a guy that would break the atmosphere, if that makes sense, a more sociable person--but I think it would clash a bit with Archer's professionalism. Archer would appreciate the amicality but he'd keep at least an elbow distance, partially for said professionalism and partially because Petrel is tricky and I have no doubts that he is very much a trickster. Will make you feel better in his presence, would make you trust him, would deceive you and manipulate you and you'd have no idea. That's kind of scary when you think about it.

That being said, he could use those social skills for good and be the glue sticking the whole group together. He seems like a guy that would don drag anyway, tbh he gives me heavy cisn't vibes. But that's a side note.

On a final note, they are coworkers, but I would assume closer ones than usual. There isn't much more than four of them that would understand what they go through during their job, so there is no-one else to share it with but the other three. I once saw a fantastic comic that showed four going drinking after job, salary man style. It was amazing, and I think that's how they roll.

[xlatiwritesx]

hi there hope you're having a great day! it's my first time requesting in general and was wondering if i can request lando norris imagine? after both him and the reader decided to hard launch on social media, he brought her to the race for the 1st time and fans absolutely adore her in general. hope this makes sense thank you sm! (reader is a very private person in general)

Mine, Not Theirs | LN4

A/N: sorry if it took me long, but thank you for this request, Anon! This is so cute 😞❤️‍🩹. I hope you like it!!

Genera: Fluff

Words: 1.9K

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

…

"OH MY GODDDDD"

"So she is the one"

"Now we know the reason behind all the smiles during this season's races"

You smiled at all the comments left under Lando's post. You were sat on your hotel room’s bed, hugging your knees and smiling like an idiot at your phone for the past hour.

"Had I known you'd be smiling like this, I would've hard launched us sooner" you heard him speak, but your eyes kept staring at your picture that he posted. The picture that sent the internet into a spiral.

It was simple, you kissing Lando where you assumed his lips would be under his helmet, holding the sides of it. It was all loud and clear. Your smile on your exposed face, his name and number on the helmet. His McLaren suit. It was all out for the world to see, and it made your heart twist in the happiest ways.

"Hey, so" Lando walked closer to you, resting down on the edge of the bed and finally having your attention.

"Now that the whole world knows, I want you to come to races with me, starting with tomorrow’s" he confessed. Your smile slowly faded and you looked away from him.

He knew proposing such a thing when you've just publicized your relationship wouldn't be easy for you. You weren't the most outgoing or the best at dealing with all the press and fame that came from being with someone like Lando.

You looked back at him and saw him already losing hope. You had to try. He deserved at least that. He's been nothing but respectful and supportive of your wishes to keep your relationship private, but now things changed. You wanted to try for him just like he did for you.

"Okay" you said simply, not tearing your eyes from him to watch his reaction. He looked at you blankly.

"Wait, really?" A smile broke on his face. You nodded.

"Like 'hey guys this is the love of my life joining me for today's race' okay?" He asked again, carefully. You laughed and nodded again to reassure him.

"Yes!" He punched the air and you stood up, still laughing.

"Finally" he spread his arms, looking up at the ceiling.

After enjoying Lando's little celebration, you ran to your suitcase. You had to find something to wear. This was the first time anyone would see you. Not to mention the entire world.

A dress? Pants and a shirt? Classy? Casual?

You sat in the pile of your clothes, finding something suitable. Your eyes landed on a white top. Denim mini skirt. You narrowed your eyes. Smiled.

"These two with Lando’s McLaren bumper jacket" you announced to no one but yourself.

The next day, you started getting ready for the race. You curled your hair, did your light make up to perfection, and put on the outfit you picked out the night before.

You got in the car with Lando who was fully aware of your nerves ever since you woke up. He held your hand and that was enough to boost your confidence.

When you reached the circuit, your heart began beating at a dangerous speed. Lando's hand tightened around yours and he looked at you before getting out of the car. You could already see the many reporters there to document everyone's arrival. Your breath got heavier.

"Hey. Eyes on me, okay?" Lando whispered softly. You looked into his eyes and relaxed a little.

"No matter what anyone writes on those stupid platforms, you're mine, not theirs, okay? I'm proud you're the one I'm brining to today's race" he reassured you, hoping it would make you feel even more relaxed. He knew what it was like to be under the spotlight and having his every move scrutinized. It can get hard at times.

You smiled and looked down. He kissed your cheek before opening the car door, the commotion outside no longer muffled.

"Let's go" he ushered and you followed. Still holding his hand.

Even though it was very much light out, the camera flashes were still blinding. You kept your head down because it would've been overwhelming to look straight ahead. You held on to Lando's hand as he lead you to the paddock.

Once inside, you finally look up at the many faces there. Drivers, their families, managers, friends, girlfriends.

Some smiled. Some scrutinized. One Aussie accent cheered.

"Hey!" He greeted excitedly, opening his arms wide to give you a hug. You quickly let go of Lando's hand and hug Oscar.

"It's finally good to see you here" he said excitedly when you pull away. You smiled at him, eternally grateful for making you feel so welcome.

"Thanks, Oscar" you replied shyly. You could feel Lando beaming next to you.

"He goes crazy when you're not around. All he talks about is you. Hopefully he won’t be so annoying today since you’re here" he lowers his voice, playfully punching his teammates arm next to you. You laugh.

Oscar starts talking to Lando about the track and what to be expected. Lando wraps an arm around your waist and you listen to them talk.

It's a miracle that you were actually into the races and Formula 1 in general. You wouldn't have lasted too long with Lando if you weren't. It was his career after all, so naturally it was what he talked about most.

“Okay. We gotta get to the cars now. Shit’s about to get serious” Oscar clapped. Lando nodded and looked at you.

“You’ll be good here? Or you want to watch the race in the garage?” He asked you gently. You looked around at the drivers leaving, all their friends and family choosing to stay at the paddock. You turned to him and smiled.

“I’ll be fine around here. Maybe get to know some new people” you told him and he nodded letting go of your hand to hold your face and kiss you cheek.

You blushed as he walked away, turning to wave at you one last time.

“Take care, Lan!” You yelled and he turned to face you, walking backwards for a few steps.

“Anything for you, my love!” He shouted back, causing people to look. Your heart raced, but your eyes were only on him as he turned back around to continue walking next to Oscar.

You sigh, hoping people would actually be nice. Walking around the paddock, you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn quickly, faced with a girl a little too pretty.

“First time around here?” She asks. You smile and nod.

“Great! I get to show you around!” She says excitedly, pulling your arm and walking inside.

You’re welcomed by about 5 more faces around a table. People your age. Girls. You felt overwhelmed by their stares, but you promised to give this whole thing a chance.

“We’ve got a McLaren girlfriend everyone!” She announces and everyone starts cheering. You laugh at how silly it seemed, yet so sweet.

“I’m Lily by the way, your co-McLaren-girlfriend” she finally introduces herself. Your smile widens, feeling a sense of belonging somehow.

Lily guides you to the table with five chairs already occupied, you and her filling the sixth and seventh spots. Everyone seemed to be your age. Maybe one or two years younger or older.

“First race nerves?” Another girl asked, taking a sip from her glass. You nodded, still smiling.

“We were all there. It all seems intimidating at first, the cameras, the questions, the race itself!” Another one continued. You frowned a little, nodding along.

You realized you hadn’t said a single word. You really weren’t the best at small talk, but you owed it to them to at least say a yes or no.

“I’m Y/N, by the way” you said finally and they all smiled, acknowledging that new piece of information.

“You should he added to our group chat. We find each other every race day, catch up and have some free food, you know” Lily nudged you and you laughed a little. You hand her your phone, allowing her to do whatever.

When she hands it back to you, you see that you’ve been added to a group chat titled “the gas station ⚡️”. You frown in confusion and look up at them.

“The gas station?” You raise a brow and some of them laugh.

“We give them fuel, now don’t we girls?” One of them raised her brow and you just covered your face and laughed. A little too hard.

“We’ve got the same sense of humor. We’ll go a long way” a girl on your right patted your back as you collected yourself.

“Ugh” you sigh, finally able to hold in your laughter.

When the race starts, you come completely undone. Screaming with everyone and hugging anyone around when necessary. Lando finishes with P-3 and you couldn’t wait to celebrate that with him at the podium.

“You get to celebrate on the podium!” Some of the girls scream and it was just then that you realize how amazing this whole experience has been.

These girls have never met you in their lives, your boyfriend just won against all their boyfriends and they had every reason to be full of themselves, but they were nothing but sweet and lovely to you, making you feel so welcome and for the first time ever since you started dating Lando, you find someone who’d be as excited for him as you. Because they know what’s it like to watch the love of your life win at something he’s passionate about.

“Go go go!” They push you out so you could get to the podium for celebration.

You all get to the track to celebrate with your significant others. You spot a pretty face and curly hair in the crowd. For once, you really don’t care that everyone’s watching. That this could be on live television. You just run, jumping in his arms. He holds you tightly, spinning you around as his sweet laughter fills your ears, muting any other possible sound around you.

When Lando finally puts you down, you basically scream in his face.

“P-3, Lan! That was amazing!” He laughs at your reaction and you laugh with him.

“I knew you were here. I couldn’t let you down” he says and you hug him tightly. He hugs you back.

“You’re my everything. I do this for you” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. You close your eyes, praying your heart won’t explode from pure happiness and content.

Had you just known how amazing everyone would be, you would’ve come sooner. Had you known how much it meant to Lando, you would’ve come even sooner.

You pull away and kiss him, making up for all the time you spent feeling nervous. For not shouting about this from the rooftops. For staying behind on all the fun and welcoming, lovely souls you you met today.

“It seems that today’s race gets a fairytale ending for Lando Norris and his girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N”

[0cta9on]

Chaewon Fluff but best friends turn to lovers pleaseee!!! Really love your writing btw!!!

Thank you for the request and the kind words, sorry this took so long to put out :^) Hopefully I made up for the wait by making it extra cute and giving it that rom-com corniness :]

“Well that was…”

“...Shit.”

After weeks of catfishes and awkward talking stages, both you and Chaewon finally found dates from a dating app. Things were going fine at first - the girl you matched with was cute, funny, and matched your energy, and it seemed like things were going well with Chaewon and her match too. You brought up the idea of a double date at a KBBQ place as a fun way to get to know each other’s dates. Chaewon is your best friend after all and you wouldn’t want her to end up with the personification of a red flag.

You got to the restaurant first, talking and flirting with your date while you waited. For once, it seemed like your dating life was going in the right direction. However, that all changed when she made eye contact with Chaewon’s man. Coincidentally, both your dates were exes in a toxic relationship, evidenced by the screaming match and the mess of thrown side dishes they made as they stormed out of the restaurant, leaving you and Chaewon completely stunned.

You slump into your seat, letting out a resigned groan. “God dammit…” You mutter under your breath. Chaewon sits across from you, unsure of how to react from the altercation. The server comes by to replace the side dishes that had been tossed out by your dates alongside the meat you ordered and a bottle of soju.

“Um, we didn’t order any soju,” you say, confused.

“”Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. You two look like you could use it.” She gives you a sympathetic look before disappearing into the kitchen. You twist off the cap and bring it to your lips before Chaewon stops you.

“Yah,” she utters, holding up a shot glass. “Give me some too.”

Chuckling, you pour her a shot which she downs almost instantly. Fatigue hangs in the air between the two of you, yet it’s almost comical in a way. Truthfully, you’re almost glad that all of this blew up in your faces. For years, you couldn’t shake the feeling that every girl you’ve ever dated was just “wrong” for you. You thought it was stress from school or work that made it difficult to maintain a healthy relationship, but that feeling lingered even at the best of times. The fact that you don’t have to go through the ordeal of breaking up with someone again felt refreshing.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say, finally breaking the prolonged silence.

“Eh, it’s fine. To be honest, I’m kinda glad that happened.”

Your ears perk up with intrigue. “Really?”

“He was a nice guy and all, but something just felt… off,” she admits, blankly watching the meat cook on the grill as if she’s lost in thought. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for dating.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You pour out more shots for the both of you, the smooth liquid slipping down your throat and slowly releasing your inhibitions.

“What about you?” She mutters. “It looked like you really liked her.”

“I mean…” You lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Did you really actually like her, or were you just playing the role that you were supposed to play? You bought her gifts, you kissed her, you slept with her, but aren’t those things boyfriends are expected to do? Did you really, truly feel anything for her?

“I don’t know. I thought I did, but… maybe not.”

Chaewon snickers as she pours another shot, a glimpse of a smirk dancing on her lips.. “I guess we’re both just unlucky, huh.”

You can’t help but laugh at your predicament, downing another shot like it’s water. The alcohol swims around in your system, loosening you up and making you forget about the girl in a matter of seconds. In fact, the only thing you can think about is the girl sitting in front of you, drinking her problems away just like you are.

“I just had a funny thought,” Chaewon snickers, the alcohol taking a noticeable toll on her already. 

You lean forward, intrigued. “What is it?”

“What if…” She pauses for dramatic effect, peering deeply into your eyes. You feel warmth enveloping your cheeks and you're not sure if it’s from the soju or her. “...Never mind.”

“Yah, Kim Chaewon!” You exclaim, annoyed.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” She sinks into her seat, covering her face in embarrassment.

“I promise you, there’s nothing you could say that could make this night any worse.”

Her gaze falls to the ground as she nervously twiddles her fingers. She looks so cute when she makes that face like she’s deep in thought. Her nose scrunches and her cheeks puff up slightly, it makes you want to just pinch her cheeks. For the first time that night, you notice her outfit - like really notice her outfit. The black mini dress hugs her petite frame, making her look like a doll. You want nothing else but to hold her and kiss her pretty face and tell her how beautiful she is and-

“Why are you staring?”

You shake your head, getting a grip on reality for a moment. “Nothing. Anyways, what were you going to say?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But… you can’t laugh,” she says, her words slurring just a bit.

“No prob, bob.” You laugh at your own joke, which goes unnoticed by Chaewon.

“When we turn 30…. Why don’t… we get married?”

You freeze completely, unsure of whether or not you heard correctly. Is she that drunk already that she would suggest something as insane as that? You two have been best friends since diapers, you grew up together, you’ve seen each other at your lowest lows and celebrated each other's highest highs. You know everything there is to know about Kim Chaewon. A strange warmth fills your chest, a warmth that’s definitely not from the alcohol. Before you can even think, the words are spoken aloud.

“Why wait?”

Chaewon’s head shoots up, flustered. “W-what?!”

It takes you a second to process your own words. As you meet her eyes, you feel something that you never felt for the other girl. That lingering feeling you’ve had for ages has grown, filling every cell in your body. “I-I mean… we’ve known each other our whole lives. It only makes sense right? No awkward talking stages, no misunderstandings. Just… you and me.”

Time freezes around you, neither of you saying another word or even blinking. Suddenly, Chaewon storms out of the restaurant, leaving you drunk and confused. Did you say something wrong? Or maybe you didn’t say anything at all? Maybe you drank so much that you’re actually passed out on the table and this entire thing is just a weird dream.

“Yah, are you gonna go after her or not?” You turn towards the sound of the voice to see the server standing over you, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“Wha-”

She slaps your shoulder. “Hurry up fool, she’s getting away!” The pain in your shoulder is a sign that this is all very real and not a dream. You quickly grab your jacket and run out the door, a gust of cold air sobering you up.

“Chaewon!” You frantically search through the crowded streets, illuminated by a few dingy street lights. In the distance, you spot her hailing down a taxi. You shove through the crowd, receiving some dirty looks and expletives from strangers, but you don’t care. You just need her. You’ve always needed her. And she’s one foot inside the taxi, about to disappear forever.

Right as she goes to shut the door, you reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her. “Wait!” You exclaim.

“W-what?” Her voice quivers like a delicate feather in a harsh wind, threatening to break. Chaewon’s head is turned away from you, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Don’t go. Please. Not until we talk about this.”

“W-what is there to talk about, it was just a stupid idea anyways-”

“No, it’s not!” Your entire body feels warm despite the frigid winds as your heart thumps with the weight of an entire sun. “I don’t know why it took me so long to realize, but I just can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you. I thought maybe if I kept looking, I would find the one, but… You were right here all along.”

Chaewon finally turns to look at you, revealing the tears falling from her eyes, glistening like diamonds against her skin. “I-I can’t…”

You gently cup her face, wiping her tears away with your thumbs. “We can make it work-”

“No!” She shouts, hitting your chest with her fist. She collapses into you, sobbing, and all you can do is hold her until she eventually calms down. Fear, confusion, pain, all of these emotions swirl in your mind like a tornado, wreaking havoc on everything you know and feel, making it impossible to think straight.

Chaewon pushes away from you slightly, still sniffling. “Every relationship I’ve ever been in… It always ended badly… A-and… I don’t want you to hate me too…”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Nothing you could ever do could make me hate you. You could hit me with a car and I would still love you,” you joke.

“Yah,” she exclaims weakly, laughing through the tears. “Don’t try to cheer me up, you’re too good for me.” Suddenly, her face turns serious as she peers up at you. “D-did you just say you… love me?”

You pull Chaewon into a delicate kiss, causing her to freeze in shock. Eventually, she melts into the kiss, wrapping her arms around your head and lazily playing with your hair. Her plush lips feel like heaven against yours, a feeling that you never want to let go of. Everything about her feels correct. No lingering thoughts about another girl, no expectations of filling a role, just pure love.

“I’ve always loved you, Chaewon. And I always will,” you say as you look straight into her irises. Chaewon smiles before pulling you into another kiss, one that warms you up despite the shivering breeze blowing past. A kiss that is nothing short of perfect.

[cheesus-doodles]

Star-Crossed by Choice: Chapter 3

Yandere Raihan & Leon with Champion Darling

Pokemon SwSh and SV Crossover

‎

<< Chapter 1 | 2

Masterlist

‎

apologies for the sudden hiatus yall ;-; i've been pulling midnight days almost every day for the past month for work on top of dealing with quite a severe writer block - things has been calming down somewhat so I look forward to ramping up my writing again! thank you for your patience :3

“You ungrateful little whore,” Raihan all but snarled out, the whites of his gritted teeth glinting in the dim street light as he stared you down.

Your body instantly reacted, attempting to stumble back and away despite having collapsed on the ground, your trembling gaze all but locked on Raihan’s icy teals, unable to turn away. If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be dead, no - the fate that awaited you was so much worse than the kind embrace of death. Your Cinderace let out an uncertain trill as it looked back at you, quickly followed by an annoyed one as it shifted to block your view of the gym leader. The astute Pokemon you had the honor to call your partner was more than well aware of the situation, though its efforts did little to stop the shivers that wrecked your body as you tried and failed to force yourself to get up and move.

Raihan was hardly deterred. “After all I’ve done for you, after all you’ve put me through-” The taller man took a step forward, his towering shadow falling over you, eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark and he stared you down. “This is how you repay my love?” 

It was as if your Cinderace barely existed between the two of you, those narrowed eyes piercing straight past the Pokemon and into your soul, a shot from a harpoon that hooked into your flesh and froze you in place. There was no right answer to his question, even if you could muster the words to reply, because there wasn’t supposed to be one; you were never right. Only wrong. 

The town of Cortando was predictably quiet at this time of the night, with residents and student visitors having long retreated into their beds to prepare for the coming day. You envied them - and you always had - having the freedom that the new dawn would bring to look forward to. And even though you treasured every day you could roam the rolling hills of Paldea, free from the shackled throne you were forced to sit upon in Galar, it wasn’t without needing to constantly look over your back for the monsters that lurked in the shadows.

And now, the freedom you had so carefully constructed for yourself was threatening to shatter before your eyes. 

You gulped, pleading eyes sliding to glance at Nemona, who was still staring blankly at the whole ongoing shitshow. What now? Could you simply give all this up? Go back to the safety of what you knew? You had to, your mind screamed at you. Concede now, surrender and return peacefully before it’s too late, and you could maybe still enjoy some semblance of the miniscule comfort you had before your abrupt escape.

But it was your heart and the sinking feeling in the base of your gut that told you the truth. That it was already too late for you: you had forced the Hammerlocke gym leader into giving up all pretense of playing the persona he was so loved for, and like an awakened dragon, the man you faced was now one usually reserved only for you and your transgressions against him. Allowing others to lay eyes on such a private side of him would hardly be kind to you if Raihan got his way.

“Hey! Eyes here while I’m talking to you,” the man snapped, and your gaze immediately jumped back to meet his, the hair on the back of your neck standing as you realized that you had been too obvious in allowing your attention to waver away from Raihan. If Cinderace hadn’t been between the two of you, you were sure around your neck was exactly where the other’s hands would be at this precise point in time. “Do I mean so little to you now, princess? Just trash to be cast aside, huh?”

What now? What else?

‎

Yet that was hardly the whole sum of your issues at the moment. Allowing your eyes to slide away from Raihan once more as the man continued to vent and rant to himself, and there in the dim yellow light waited another patient pair, Leon looking deceptively relaxed from where he was leaned against an unassuming lamppost lazily scanning his surroundings, just a stone’s throw behind the hoodie-touting gym leader. And as if he could feel your wide-eyed stare, the ex-Champion looked up, catching your eyes lingering on him. Smirking as he dropped whatever it was that he had been tossing from one hand to the other, the purple-haired man leisurely strolled over, clapping one hand over an unusually agitated Raihan’s shoulder. “Calm, Raihan,” Leon smirked, golden eyes having never left yours. “She’s still here.”

Raihan let out an annoyed tsk, shaking Leon off of him, though the gym leader did take a deep breath and calmed down. 

I’m still here, you repeated mentally. So close where they could almost grasp you, your eyes flickering between the two as their shadow only seemed to grow longer and longer, swallowing you up and dragging you further from the light, yet so far away. Your chances to get away were only getting slimmer with every passing minute. Having to shake Raihan off was one thing, with the blue-eyed man’s seemingly dragon-like senses and his ability to read you like an open book, but adding Leon into the equation was a whole different ball game.

But you had to try. Giving up and returning to that life that awaited you, it simply wasn’t an option, if not for you, then for your beloved Pokemon friends. You’ve already beaten them once, you tried to reassure yourself. All that time ago, when you had become Galar Champion, and then again and again every Championship. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you shifted your hand, dipping into your pocket to pull out a small clicker, all the while wrecking your brains to come up with a plan. You just had to beat them again this time. Give up, those nagging voices at the back of your mind urged again.

Far from the rage that Raihan had worked himself into, Leon was still calm and collected, the tanned man with a mob of purple hair reaching out towards you, offering one ungloved hand as if an olive branch. “It’s time to come home, love,” he reassured. “It’s not too late. Everything’ll go back to normal, same way it always was, if you come home with us now. I promise.”

A lie. You know better to fall for those honeyed words - that hadn’t been a question but an order. You closed your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. It was all too much for you.

Those amber eyes moved to lock onto your Cinderace. “And you. Return to your Pokeball.”

Your partner pokemon bristled, letting out a warning growl.

‎

Leon had always frightened you, more than Raihan ever did. The Dragon gym leader had always been very obvious, very deliberate with his actions, never bothering to hide his intentions, to the extent of making it public to his leagues of fans the moment you were in his grasp. But you hadn’t even noticed the once-undefeated Champion’s claws wrapping around you until he already had you trapped.

The glimpse of purple hair you kept catching from the corner of your eye had you momentarily thinking of Hop, your oldest and dearest friend that you had left behind in Galar. You wondered how he was doing, whether he still thought of you like you did of him. Whether he had already achieved his goal of researching rare pokemon. Whether he still looked up to his older brother after what Leon had done to him the day you toppled Goliath and became reigning Champion.

You thought about writing to him from time to time, especially during those lonely nights when you camped out in the far corner of some field, stoking a crackling fire under the twinkling stars with your Pokemon fast asleep around you. You remembered when Hop would join you to feast on curry when the two of you were kids, when neither had any worries beyond homework and whether the channels would have the latest episode of your favorite show. But you had always decided against it at the end of the day, worried about being tracked down should Leon get a hold of one - and you could only offer simple wishes up to whatever deity was listening that Hop was doing well. 

Fat load of good that did you.

Your hand moved fast, tapping away on the converted morse paddle key hidden to the side of your body: non-verbal instructions to your Cinderace. Not only was it a system that both you and your Pokemon were well accustomed with, having practiced it again and again throughout the course of the Galar Championships and beyond, but it also took advantage of Pokemon’s natural heightened senses and your two self-established “guardians” inability to understand. And you knew your partner heard you loud and clear, the bunny Pokemon’s ear twitching in acknowledgement despite keeping its back turned to you.

Though despite your best attempts, your unspoken communication didn’t go unnoticed. Leon’s face darkened, in step with Raihan snarling. “Not going to use your words?” “What did I say about clicking?”

Fortunately, right on cue, Cinderace took a quick swipe at them, forcing the two men back a few paces to avoid the tip of its feet before your partner retreated back to stand guard in front of you. 

The breeze had picked up once more, carrying with it the calls of Hoothoot and the rustle of grass from outside of town, the fields alive with nocturnal Pokemon. You shivered in the warm wind, your mind racing. One step down, countless more to go. Could you pull it off?

‎

‎

It was far too obvious that you weren’t giving up the fight just yet, Raihan mused, sharp eyes lasering in on you as you kept your gaze downturned and focused on the ground, his grin only seeming to lengthen with the shadows that danced in the night. Sure, you had always been on the timid, shy side, even to the point of being a selective mute, but he could tell this was one of those rare times where your instinct to struggle against the current bubbled to the surface. You had always been a crafty little thing when you needed to.

Yet the scales were still tipped in his favor.

“Fiery,” the Hammerlocke gym leader all but purred out, pulling your attention out from your thoughts. “You sure you wanna do that though?” He reached into his pocket, and you flinched on instinct. Good.

 Pulling out an all-too familiar Pokeball, the orb was clutched in one tanned hand held halfway out, just enough for the light to catch its top. 

You turned pale, staggering to your feet immediately, your eyes locked on that ball. No doubt you would easily recognise the Pokeball he now held as your own: the once-glossy red surface painstakingly decorated with cute little details that he imagined you carving with the tip of a knife in the light of a campfire once upon a time, far out in the Wild Area and away from prying eyes. “You know who this is, don’t you, lil champ?”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, tears beginning to well in the corner of your already swollen eyes as you tried to shake your head, attempting to plead silently to spare you the pain. 

Ah that helpless, what a sight for sore eyes indeed. If only you could voice that plea.

And with a quick toss, it was clear to the hooded trainer that he had only confirmed your worst nightmares, Lapras bursting forth and manifesting before Cinderace with a cry. Back when he had let his guard down and allowed you to escape from his grasp back in Galar, you had managed to slip away with just six of your Pokemon - your prized Pokemon to say the least, given those six formed the core of your Championship team. But, Raihan smirked, casually sliding both hands into the pockets of his hoodie, it was no secret you cared deeply for all your Pokemon, and those you left behind were still in his and Leon’s possession. 

Even your Cinderace seemed uncertain of the evolving situation, breaking its fighting stance to glance between you and its former ally. 

Now, what were you going to do next?

‎

‎

Your world felt like it was on the brink of imploding, the very air just a wrong touch away from collapsing around you. That wretched thick black collar that hung from Lapras’ neck, one you were all too familiar with - you could barely bite back the whimper that you felt threatening to escape from your throat. Whatever you did, one wrong move and you would once again be the sole cause of the world of suffering Lapras would be put through.

You shaking met Lapras’ eyes, to which the Pokemon let out a mournful sigh, and Cinderace returned a sad trill. It wasn’t the first time both had found the other on opposing sides since you had your living arrangement forcibly updated at the end of the Galar Championship, but neither liked the outcome. Maybe Leon and Raihan were right. Maybe you should just give in and end the pain. 

“Just leave her alone already!” A sudden interruption that sliced through the silence of the night like a hot knife through butter, and Nemona came stomping over from behind him, an uncharacteristically furious expression painted across the usually cheery girl. “She doesn’t want to go with you!” With a distinct lack of fear in her eyes and a lack of care for who your two pursuers were on the world stage, your friend marched past them without a second glance, putting herself squarely on your side and in your corner.

The Champion-ranked trainer turned to you. “Don’t get me wrong, I most definitely want to have a battle with you once all this blows over,” she declared, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “And I want to know everything. But I’m on your side. Got it?”

You simply nodded.

There was little question that Raihan and Leon would be angry, and you didn’t need to look to know just how downright pissed they were. Instead opting to turn your gaze to Nemona then to the ground, it was as if your mind had connected the dots faster than you could have realized, and you had to take a second look at the uniform-clad girl. Right before it hit you like a charging Rhyhorn, the sudden realization instantly shaking your entire perspective and turning your world upside down. 

You were no longer in Galar. 

Yes, there was no doubt that Raihan and Leon were still Master Class trainers that have conquered the World Coronation Championships, and were most definitely famous even here in Paldea as the famous Dragon Gym Leader of Hammerlocke and the former Galar Champion. But missing were the leagues of women who would throw their weeks away to comb every inch of grass for signs of you on Raihan’s command. And gone were the nosy trainers who would be more than happy to turn over information on your location just for a word of praise from Leon, or the crowds of your self-declared fans who could recognize you turned inside out from a yard away.

They were as good as nobodies here, and so were you.

‎

And now all the wheels began to turn. The modified morse paddle key that served as your clicker went into overdrive as you tried to get your thoughts out to Cinderace as fast as your fingers could go.

You could get away. There was still a way out for you.

Raihan seemed to have caught on to the sudden hope that surged in your veins, the toothy grin on his face dropping as he narrowed his eyes. “Lapras, Hydro Pump,” he ordered.

Lapras resisted, letting out a defiant cry as it rebelled against his orders. Your countdown has started.

Two clicks, and your Cinderace leapt forward, foot extended to land a Double Kick.

You didn’t look to see if the attack landed, attempting to turn out all external sounds from your buzzing ears; the butterflies in your chest already made it hard enough to keep breathing. Instead, you cleared your throat, your mouth moving as you tried to force a word, a sound, anything from your vocal chords. “S-St-” You exhaled, shuddering, your efforts going unnoticed amidst the chaos of the moment.

The Dragon Gym Leader had withdrawn a small remote, a promise, not a threat. “Lapras, use Hydro Pump,” he ordered again.

It wasn’t enough. A full word. All you needed was a single full word. If not for yourself, then for the hell that your Pokemon had been through - there was no other choice. You had to do it.

Nemona’s eyebrows were furrowed as she watched the battle go down, the other three trainers paying little attention to you as you carefully tiptoed over to retrieve your backpack off the ground, the clock in your head ticking down slowly but surely. Tick tock, the nagging voices in your head whispered to you. Tick tock.

There was little time to decide what the right move was, whether you did the right thing; you simply rationalized that you should pick whoever you wouldn’t mind being stuck with again should you have to return to Galar. Raihan did treat you like royalty whenever he wasn't angry at some unspoken rule that you unknowingly broke, and would only increase should you pick him, with the downside being the numerous eyes and constant spotlight that followed the popular trainer around. While no doubt that Leon’s treatment of you would improve greatly if you picked him, the man had always been very demanding, holding you to an impossible standard.

Reaching into your backpack right for your Pokemon as Cinderace dodged the jet of water aimed at him, everything that happened next took but a blink of an eye.

‎

All you could muster the strength to mutter was a single word, yet it was enough. A broken whisper of a single syllabus, mumbled by a hoarse voice that didn’t seem to see much use. “Raihan-”

Both men instantly startled, amber and aqua eyes snapping straight to yours as their jaws dropped. But it was all the distraction you needed.

Click. Your Vileplume manifested, instantly using Stun Spore, with both Vileplume Cinderace being recalled to their respective balls before the yellow dust even touched the ground.

You grabbed Nemona’s arm, yanking her backwards with surprising strength as you clutched your backpack tight to your chest. Another shrill song as Gardevoir manifested, the Psychic pokemon lightly touching its green sleeve-like arms to you, using Teleport.

And in under a minute, your little group was gone, vanishing without a trace from Cortondo.

‎

‎

“She-she said my name,” Raihan mumbled again and again, sounding very much star-struck. “My name. M-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leon snapped back, annoyed.

Being left sprawled on the ground waiting for the effects of the paralysis to fade didn’t help much with the former Galar Champion’s mood, even less so when you had been just an arm’s length away. One grab away from going back to how life had been with you. And now, Leon had to live with the fact that after years and years of patience, waiting eagerly for a chance to hear your elusive voice. Soft and gentle, like the trickle of a river, your voice had been everything he ever imagined and more - and it was his rival’s name that left your lips first. 

It must be her, the purple-haired man fumed, a soft glow of red as an equally paralyzed Lapras was recalled to its ball by a giddy, giggling Raihan. That stupid Champion-ranked girl with the green highlighted hair. All his time and effort, taming and training you into his love - and she had broken his perfect you the moment his back was turned. All his work for nothing, gone like sand art at high tide.

Letting out a groan as Leon finally felt control of his body return, he could only slam the back of his head into the dust once in frustration before standing. 

Raihan had won this fight, but Leon sure as hell was going to make sure he wins the war.

[ddejavvu]

Hi Mei!!! I Hope you’re well 🧡

I’m just watching the first season of criminal minds for the first time, and I was on the episode where they go to Mexico. Elle’s ability to speak Spanish made me think of Aaron and reader where he just assumes reader can speak Spanish and tries to get her to interview witnesses but she’s like no babe I said I could get through a resort if we took a vacation!

Thank youuuuuuuu for sharing your writing with us 🧡

i also do not speak spanish so i did use google translate for the pet name that i put in at the end my apologies if it's awkward </3

--

Your brain has managed to tune out Elle's fluent Spanish conversation because you can't understand a word of it, but when the pair approaches you, you stiffen, throwing a kind smile at the woman beside her.

Elle says something to the woman, what you're not quite sure, because she's still speaking Spanish. But she looks expectantly at you, and you stare blankly back at her.

"Hello," You offer cautiously to the woman, wondering if she can manage an English interview, and maybe Elle needs to focus on those who can't, "Can I help you?"

"In Spanish," Elle prods, looking slightly inquisitive at you, "She doesn't speak English."

"I don't speak Spanish..." You shake your head ever-so-slightly, hands hanging limply at your sides.

She rears her head back, "You don't? Hotch said you do."

Your brows raise, "He did? I don't."

"Oh." She laughs lightly, and you assume the Spanish phrases that she offers to the woman beside her detail your predicament, because her words ease the nervous woman into relaxed laughter. Elle places a hand on her shoulder, bidding you goodbye, and resumes talking to the woman in Spanish.

You turn as soon as they leave you, eyes scanning the building you're stationed in for your boyfriend. He stands tall against the wall opposite you, filling officers in on the warning signs that they're looking for.

"-above all else, be vigilant. This person seems to know about our proceedings here, which means it could easily be someone in this room. Stay alert, and be careful who you trust."

With that bone-chilling warning, he dismisses the officers, and you feel bad for them when you see their paranoid glances to each other.

"Aaron," You step up to him once they disperse, "Did you tell Elle I could speak Spanish?"

"Yes I did," He nods, brows furrowing a fraction, "Did you not want me to?"

"Uh, well, I can't," You laugh, and he blinks blankly, "So, no, I'd have preferred for you not to tell her."

"Oh." He offers, "But I thought- When we were discussing our vacation plans..."

"I said I could survive a Spanish-speaking resort," You correct him, "Because anyone can download Duolingo. But I haven't yet, and I don't know an ounce of Spanish."

"Oh." He repeats, lighter this time as he chuckles sheepishly. He pulls you into an embrace, keeping it casual and quick as he bends down to kiss the grin off of your face. He backs away before he can give into his urge for more, but his hand stays clasped around your own, "Sorry. I didn't-" His shoulders shake with a chuckle as he glances at the floor, "I guess I should know that about you. I don't know why I assumed."

"It's okay, Aaron." You lean against his shoulder, "I'm not upset. But maybe we should download Duolingo."

"Maybe we should." He chuckles, "We'll do it in the car when we go for lunch."

"Deal," You nod, reluctant to let go of his hand even though you know you need to get back to work. Your eyes light with an idea, and you retrieve your phone, typing with the screen facing away from him while he watches, waits. Then you pocket it again, grinning devilishly at him, "See you then, mi amor."

[imaginexwwe]

STILL IN LOVE 1|2 - Roman Reigns

This is just something I came up with because I was bored and I'm trying to get back to writing and have 0 requests to go off of HINT HINT 👀

•

SEND SOME REQUESTS IN no smut because I'm terrible at that 🙃

•

Y|N'S HAVING CONFLICTED FEELINGS HOURS BEFORE HER WEDDING

•

I fumbled with my engagement ring, as I stared blankly at my reflection in the mirror.

The more I starred, the less I recognized the person that starred back at me.

"Hello..." My bestfriend, practically sister, Trinity said, trying her best to snap me out of my thoughts. "Earth to Y|N."

Blinking a few times, I glanced over at her as she took a sear next to me. "Hmm..?" I mumbled, fighting the urge to go back to blankly starring at my reflection.

Trinity sighed, shaking her head. "You didn't hear anything I said, did you?" She asked.

And even though Trinity asked, the look on her face told me that she already knew that I was in fact not listening.

But it wasn't like I was just purposefully ignoring her.

I just had something on my mind.

Something that was impacting how I should be feeling right now.

"No." I replied, with a sigh to match the one Trinity had previously let out. "I can't stop thinking about Roman." I added.

As soon as I had mentioned Roman's name, Trinity stood from the chair she had been sitting in seconds before to stand behind me, a serious look on her face.

"Look at you, Y|N." She said, a type of authoritative tone that laced her words.

Tears stung at my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. "I can't." I whispered. "I don't like what I see." I admitted.

"Why not?" Trinity asked, causing my eyes to snap open, and me to now stand up also, facing her.

"Why not?" I questioned back, mocking her. "Because look at me," I gasped out. "I'm hours away from getting married, to who's supposed to be the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and all I can do is think about how much of an emotional cheater I'm being." I paused, grabbing the tissue Trinity held out to me, dabbing at the corners of my eyes, careful not to smudge my makeup. "And all it took was a phone call from my ex. Not a kiss, not some in the moment sex, a phone call. A stupid phone call Trinity."

Trinity came closer, wrapping me in a sisterly embrace. "If something has this much of an impact on you, it can't be that stupid, sis." She rubbed my back, as I buried my face into her shoulder. "What did he say?" She questioned, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"He's happy I finally found the happiness I deserve and that he wished me luck." I answered, earning a giggle from Trinity.

I pulled from our hug to look at her with narrowed eyes before giggling along with her, unable to keep a serious face.

"See?" I pouted.

Told you it was stupid, I mentally told her as if she would somehow hear me as if I had said it out loud.

"It sounds as if he was just wishing his ex luck or something." She finally replied, still in a fit of giggles. "You're just overthinking. Maybe because you're nervous or somet--"

"But then after we said bye, I could swear I heard him tell your husband that there was no way he could ruin my big day tomorrow by telling me that he was still in love with me." I quickly spoke, cutting Trinity off, as I bit down on the inside of my cheek, unaware of how wide my eyes now were. "I think he thought I had hung up, or that the phone wasn't to my ear or something but I know for sure I wasn't supposed to hear those words."

Trinity swatted at my shoulder, a look of disbelief on her face. "How did you not start with that in the first place, Y|N?"

I bit down harder on the inside of my cheek, before looking down. "Because I wasn't supposed to hear it an--"

"But you did." Trinity almost shouted, cutting me off this time.

Yes I did.

But I also spent all last night trying to convince myself I didn't.

Before I could say anything else, Trinity was making her way to the door of the room.

"Trin," I called out, trying to hurry to stop her. "Where are you going?"

"To find my husband." She huffed out.

I figured, I thought silently, face palming myself, then immediately sprinting to the mirror to make sure my eyelashes and makeup were still in tact.

I didn't know what turn this day was gonna take but I knew I wanted to look good no matter what.

And yes, I'm fully aware that that's not the way a bride is supposed to think hours before she walks down the aisle, but hey.

"I just hope Tyler doesn't hear about any of this," I mumbled to myself, imagining my fiancé hyped with all his groomsmen, on a high about today, just as I should be with my bridesmaids. "But nope, I had to ask them to leave so I can have a moment alone."

But thank goodness Trinity saw that I needed to get something off my shoulders and demanded that she stayed.

That's why it was a no brainer in asking her to be my maid of honor

•

After what seemed like eternity, Trinity finally returned, Jimmy following behind.

"Damn, Y|N you're not even close to being dressed." Jimmy said, noticing I was still in my bridal robe and slippers while he, Trinity, and I'm assuming everyone else involved in the wedding as well as the guests.

I swallowed hard, before speaking up. "I'm not sure I can get married to Tyler." I finally said, noticing the usually goofy Samoan man that I've come to love as a older brother tense up. "Why?" He questioned, throwing another one at me before I could answer the previous one. "Do I need to kick his ass?"

I immediately shook my head, "No," I began before hearing Trinity's voice.

"Because of you and Roman, and," Trinity paused, placing her hands on her hips. "Jey, I'm sure."

"What did me and Roman do?" Jimmy asked, confused, and glancing around. "And if Jey is involved why didn't you drag him in here?"

I sighed, glaring over at Trinity. "Because he didn't do anything," I quickly answered, as my eyes shifted from Trinity to her husband. "And neither did you or Roman. It's what I heard Roman say to you last night." I added, mumbling the last part.

"Last nig--" Jimmy started to say before his wife, basically cut him off with a shout.

"She's talking about Roman telling you he's still in love with Y|N last night." She said, going over to give her husband a jab in his chest. "And now because of you and your uce, Y|N isn't sure if she could marry Tyler."

Jimmy looked over at me. A slightly apologetic look on his face. "Y|N|N, he didn't want you to hear that." He tried to explain as I frowned.

"Because he didn't mean it?" I chocked out.

Was I reading this whole thing wrong?

Was I putting my wedding, my maybe marriage to Tyler at stake for nothing?

"Because he did, Y|N," Jimmy answered. "But he felt that it was time to finally let you go and start your life with Tyler." Jimmy shrugged. "That's why when I told him he should just get everything off his chest before today, he told me he couldn't."

I slowly walked over to the chair I was once sitting in, this information feeling too hard to take in, even though I had heard the same thing last night.

Maybe the confirmation is just what's hard to take in

I still had a chance at a future with Roman?

"Why did he push me away though Jimmy?" I asked, tears once again stinging at my eyes. "He's the one that left me. If it wasn't for him we would still be happy, and I won't be with Tyler." A frown slowly made its way onto my face. "He's the reason I'm in this position. I basically forced myself to move on so fast, almost jumping into a marriage that I don't even know I want because I was trying so hard to get over him and practically jumped into the arms of the first man that showed me attention."

I stood up, so many emotions rushing through my body.

"I don't even know if I truly love Tyler and want to marry him or if I was just going to marry him so I wouldn't have to keep looking for a man to love me like Roman did."

"Clearly you don't." Trinity mumbled, her eyes widening as she realized her words weren't just a thought after I shot her another glare. "Look, Y|N I think we both know you have love for Tyler but it's not the love you need to have between two people to get married or to make a marriage last. You have that with Roman and no matter who you find you're always going to be in this position."

I nodded silently.

She was right.

"I know what needs to be done." I replied, before adding. "I need to go see Tyler."

"To tell him the wedding is off?" Jimmy curiously asked, as I made my way to, and out of the door. "She's telling him the wedding is off, right?" Jimmy then asked his wife, realizing I had more important things on my mind than answering him.

"I hope." Trinity responded. "Cause it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding and that's the last thing they need if she's going to go through with it."

•

Inhaling and exhaling, I slowly brought my hand up to knock on Roman's door, before I quickly lowered it again.

Knock idiot, I mentally screamed at myself.

I had, had a painful goodbye with Tyler, and I had drove for almost two hours to get to Roman's house and now that I'm here, am I really gonna chicken out?

"I can't do this." I gasped out.

Leaving Tyler was easier than this when I thought it would've been the other way around.

But just as I turned to leave from Roman's front door, I heard the door being unlocked from the inside, and soon enough the door was open and I had turned around again to find myself face to face with my ex boyfriend.

Damn, does he look even more handsome than I remember..?

"Y|N," Roman asked, bliming a few times as if he might have thought he was dreaming. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting married right about now?"

I shook my head, looking down at my now naked ring finger. "I couldn't do it Roman." I mumbled, before swallowing hard, knowing that this could very much be my one and last chance to say how I feel.

"I heard what you told Jimmy on the phone last night when you thought I hung up and I just had to let you know, I'm still in love with you too, Roman."

•

I'm gonna start a new tag list because the accounts I used to tag were from forever ago and I don't know whose still interested in this account and whose not so I let me know if you wanna be tagged 😊

[coffee-430]

Heyy there!!! A huge congratulations on your milestone!!! ♡

Can i maybe request 9 with scaramoche from genshin? It would be great if nsfw but it's all up to you! Whatever you feel most comfortable writing! Have a great day/night! ʕ　˵·ᴥ·ʔ♡

—100 Followers Event!

No. 9: "I hate it when you ignore me. Must I need to teach you a lesson?" With Yandere Scaramouche

Character: Scaramouche

Warnings: yandere themes, non-consensual touching, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, rape, physical abuse

Note: No specifications, so reader is gender neutral in this one. Hope this was to your liking!

A low growl came from him, his eyes pierced onto your figure who was looking at the floor in defeat.

"How many times must I say this to you?"

He had caught you.

Again.

And this time, you could tell he wasn't going to be lenient towards you.

He had both your wrists chained and legs all bruised up, a punishment for your 'bad behaviour' as he would put it.

"..." You stared blankly at the floor. You hated this. Every second— every moment, you had enough of it. But every time you get a bit of taste of what it was once like before meeting him— he captures you.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Scaramouche would go on and on about how stupid it was— or how the notion of escaping him even got to your mind despite your many failed attempts.

You just stared, tired of it all, tired of everything, tired of him.

"—!?"

A sudden pull of your chin made you meet his gaze in surprise. Scaramouche leaned down to your face as he sneered.

"I hate it when you ignore me. Must I need to teach you a lesson?"

Your breath hitched, never liking when things come to that. You vigorously shook your head and tried to push him off.

"N-No please!" You screamed. "I'm sorry— I won't try to run away again! Please!"

"I've heard of those words before, and look where that got you." He chuckled sinisterly at you, he took your wrists and had you pinned down on the floor.

"Ack—!" You winced when your body made contact with the hard ground. Your body trembled in fear at what he was about to do.

"I still think I need to punish you. After all, you've been behaving badly the whole day." A hand was placed on your thigh while the other kept your arms in place.

"No! I don't want this!" You screamed, desperately wanting to get away.

"You deserve this." He smirked, getting on top of you as his hand slid on to the hem of your shorts— pulling it off without any warning.

Your eyes widened as you gasped, tears began to prick the corners of your eyes. "Tears already?" He chuckled.

"I haven't even started yet."

With one hand, he had you pin down and his other hand began undressing his lower half.

Once he did, he brought back his hand and placed it on your exposed region. He gave it a slap— instinctively wincing when his palm made that harsh move.

You yelp, gritting your teeth as he continues his abuse.

"Fuck," He grinned, staring down at you, loving the way how your body reacted. "You look so pretty all twitching like that."

You didn't know when he had stopped, because the next thing you know, he slipped inside a finger— catching you off guard.

"Ah!" You screamed, struggling to move away but it only made things worse. Another went in and then another.

You screamed at the violation, eyes fully crying. "Please! S-Stop!" You tried to plead again, but Scaramouche was never one to heed your pathetic cries.

As much as you hated to admit it, you curse your body for reacting the opposite of what you really felt.

"Heh, you're so wet now."

You hate this. You hate him.

Your cries fell upon deaf ears as you tried to move away, but it was futile. The living doll on top of you was far too strong than your current weakened form.

"—! Agh!"

A sharp shrill came out of you the moment he inserted himself. Everything felt so painful. Everything hurts to the core.

He began moving his hips and you could do nothing but endure and cry at every cruel touch.

"Ngh— so tight..." He sighed, one hand on your wrists while the other was squeezing your waist. "You feel so good, (Y/n)."

You arched your back every time he pushed back against you. Your body's reactions were made against your own will but he didn't care.

"You're taking me in so tightly— Ha... I bet this is what you wanted from the start." He laughed, every thrust of his was beginning to pick up the pace.

"I bet this is why you wanted to be punished so bad."

"No! Just s-stop! Please!"

Your throat hurt from the screaming and crying you were doing, and your body was starting to feel tired from all the struggling. Every moment hurt but there was nothing you can do about it.

You regret everything. Meeting him, pitying him, and giving him a taste of your kindness— everything. You shouldn't have done anything, you should've just left him alone and went on your way.

But alas, your own kindness has become the very thing that has led you to your doom.

"Mmh~ I'm close." Scaramouche announced, pounding inside you senselessly as his body began to feel the closeness of release.

You, on the other hand, was forced to feel such sensuality. Your body also began to feel its climax approaching.

"S-Scara..." You pleaded, voice becoming silent. Your face was wet with tears and sweat, your body aches all over.

He did not stop, pushing and pulling himself inside you— violating your insides with an animalistic speed. "Fuck— cum— I'm going to cum inside you."

At his words, something snapped at you. "No! Don't! Anything but that!" You shrieked, shaking your head vigorously and felt disgust at the thought of him finishing inside you.

"Shut up, whore. You're going to take it and I'm going to make you." He growled and his movements began erratic.

"Please! Please! Please!"

Breathing was starting to become difficult for you, chanting all the words that meant 'No' to him, but none made him stop.

"Cumming— I'm cumming...!" He hissed, finally reaching his climax and came inside you.

Your body did the same.

Arching your back as you orgasmed at his ruthless assault.

Scaramouche panted on top of you. He felt so warm inside and it disgusted you. You whimpered and sobbed once your body came down from its high.

"Shh," He shushed you, mockingly patting your head as to feign comfort. "You had it coming, sweetheart. You should've expected this."

He laughed, grinning at his own statement. His eyes looked pleased seeing you all broken, all hurt, and all pathetic beneath him.

Yes,

You should've seen this coming. You should've just sat still and behaved, maybe none of this would've happened? Who knows?

Still, all of this happened because you felt sorry for him. All because you were too kind for your own good.

And now, you must face the consequences of your own actions.

Because at the end of the day— all you can do is wait for some miracle to come and save you from this hell you managed to put yourself in.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Caught In A Web ~ 12

CAUGHT IN A WEB MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,850ish

Summary: An old friend of Tony's reaches out. You miss swinging around the city.

Notes: I know it's been far too long. I'm slowly coming back into writing. I hope this isn't complete crap. Any comments, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated!

Bruce had entered his and Tony’s shared lab six minutes ago, with even FRIDAY announcing him, and Tony still hadn’t noticed. Tony was standing in front of the wall of windows that allowed Tony to see down into the common area. It was clear to Bruce that Tony was staring at you. 

Your secret had come out five weeks ago and the whole Team had made sure that you felt safe and welcome. With the secret out, your walls began coming down more and more with members of the Team. You spent time with everyone on the Team, but no one got more of your time than Tony. The two of you were still moving slowly into your relationship, in which you could tell that Tony was getting a bit antsy about. But he wasn’t going to push you to do anything that you weren’t ready for.

You were currently down in the common room with Sam and Bucky, talking and laughing. Tony hands were clasped behind his back as he blankly stared at you. Bruce took a few steps in and cleared his throat, only for Tony to again do nothing. 

“You know,” Bruce said as he finally decided to stand by his friend, “she can probably sense you staring at her.” Tony didn’t respond. Bruce glanced down at what Tony was staring at. “There’s no need to worry about Sam and Bucky.”

“I’m not worried about them,” Tony mumbled, signaling to Bruce that Tony had just been ignoring him.

“Then what’s going on?”

Tony sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“She left a message.”

“Oh?”

“She wants to meet up and talk.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I know I need to go and see what she wants but, I also don’t want to go at all.”

“How does Y/N feel about it?

“I haven’t talked to her yet…. About anything Pepper, honestly… Bruce, I… I thought that I would never be able to love again after her. I believed that… Well, she did a number on me.”

“That’s well known information around here.”

“I just… I can’t mess this one up. What Y/N and I have… it’s so different.”

“Good different?”

“Great different.” A smile crossed Tony’s lips. “I’m just getting scared that I’ll mess this up.”

“Tony,” Bruce placed a hand on Tony’s nearest shoulder, causing Tony to finally look at him. “You’re bound to mess it up in some way.”

“Wow,” Tony pulled away. He turned around and walked toward his workspace. “Thanks, buddy. And here I thought that you were on my side.”

“Tony, I am. All I’m saying is that you’re bound to mess something up in your relationship, same with Y/N. I’m not talking anything major, simply the little things. And when those do come up, I don’t see anything that Y/N won’t forgive you for and vice-versa.” Bruce could see that his friend’s mind was still running with all the negative possibilities. “I know that Pepper and you fought a lot, especially the last years you were together. We all heard the fighting more than we cared to admit. We saw the way she treated you and began to control you. She put all the blame on you, for everything. We watched it take a toll on you, even after Pepper left. You weren’t fully yourself… until Y/N swung into your life.” Tony’s lips perked up. “Pun intended… I can’t promise that you and Y/N will be forever, though however much we all hope it’s heading that way. But I will forever be thankful for Y/N. The whole Team will. She brought the Tony we all loved back.”

“She’s so special, Bruce,” Tony smiled, thinking about you. “She deserves the world.”

“I know. But remember that she’s with you for you, not the world. Also, don’t keep that Pepper contacted you a secret. Y/N needs to know that side of you too.”

~~~

As evening came, you found yourself on the roof of the Tower. You stared out at the skyline of New York City. Your left hand was gently massaging your right wrist as the place where your webs exited from tingled. You had barely used your abilities in the weeks since your secret had come out to the Team. You didn’t know you would miss swinging so much. It hadn’t been a part of your life for long and yet you seemed to long for it.

FRIDAY had informed Tony that you were up on the roof when he went to see if you wanted dinner. When the elevator opened and revealed you staring at the skyline, Tony knew what you were missing. He had been worried about when you would start longing for swinging around again and prepared for it. 

You had sensed Tony’s entrance and glanced back at him as he came toward you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back into his chest. He pressed a kiss behind your ear before sighing and looking out at the view. The two of you stood in silence for a couple of moments before Tony spoke up.

“You miss it,” he stated softly.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still focused on the skyline.

“Swinging around the city, helping people. You miss it.”

You sighed, leaning back into Tony. “I didn’t think I would, at least not this much…”

“I get it.”

You turned around in Tony’s arms so that you were facing him. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do. There was a short time that I gave up the suits for—” Tony stopped himself. The two of you hadn’t really talked about Pepper yet. He was too scared to ruin what you had.

You looked at him with a caring smile. “It’s okay. You can talk about her. She was a big part of your life.”

A wave a relief washed over Tony. “Pepper didn’t like how often I was in the lab and how many suits I was making. I stopped for a while, but it wasn’t what was good for me. I’m not going to ask you to give up a part of yourself. That’s not who I am.” Tony unwrapped his arms from you and slipped one of his hands into yours. “Come,” he began pulling you toward the elevator. “We need to pack bags and head out.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstate.”

~~~

Tony didn’t tell you anything but that he was taking you upstate and that you needed to back a bag to be gone for one to two days. After you had packed up, you met Tony in the garage and you two headed on your way.

The whole ride, the two of you sat in content silence. Tony’s hand rested on your thigh with your hand on top of his, your fingers pushed through his. You had a hunch as to where Tony was taking you: the Compound. Tony had once told you that the Avengers plan to eventually move to the Compound officially, but have been waiting for the right time. You believed that ‘right time’ meant when Director Fury gave the orders.

The Compound’s grounds where massive. At the edge of the grounds was a large, electric fence. There was one gate in and out, though the back side of the Compound was along the river, Tony told you that there was sensors in the water and along the shoreline to keep unwanted guests out. Tony followed the road heading to the building until he suddenly took a right turn, heading into the nearby group of trees.

“Seriously, Tony, where are you taking me?” You asked again.

He smirked to himself. “Just a few more seconds,” he mumbled. “There.”

The car came to a stop at the edge of a clearing. In the clearing, poles of various heights and widths were placed. Some even had smaller poles welded onto them horizontally.

“What is this?” You wondered.

“You’re new playground,” Tony answered. He got out of the car and rushed around it to open your door. “Milady,” he offered his hand to you. You smiled as you took it and allowed him to help you out of the car.

“This is all…” you looked around at various structures. “Did you build this all for me?”

“I knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were craving to swing again, so I had this built.” You looked at Tony, in awe that someone would have something built just for you. “What’s wrong?” Tony suddenly took your silence and your staring as that he had overstepped. “Do you not like it? Cause I can have it all taken down by the end of the day. Just say the word and I’ll—“

You laughed as you pressed your hand to Tony’s mouth to stop him from rambling. “I love it. Thank you.” You removed your hand and gave him a short kiss. “Thank you for caring about me. It means so much.”

“I’d do anything for you, sweetheart, give you anything— everything.”

“I don’t need everything, Tony. I just need you.”

Tony thought his heart was going to explode. It was the closest thing to saying ‘I love you’ that either of you had gotten. And, your words proved that Bruce was right. 

“I just need you too,” Tony said, before kissing you.

You were the one to break the kiss, getting excited to try out the new structure. “I’m sorry,” you told Tony, trying to suppress your smile. “But I—“

“Go,” Tony encouraged, “go play with your new toy.”

“Thank you!” You kissed him briefly one last time before running over. 

Flinging your arm out, a web shot from your wrist and clung to one of the post rungs. You laughed as you used it to launch yourself into the air. You swung around, laughing and cheering. Tony watched, unable to contain the grin as he leaned against his car. Some time had past when his phone beeped. Tony pulled it out of his pocket. At the sight of the name on the screen, his grin fell. It was Pepper, wondering when they were going to meet up to talk. Tony sighed, looking back up at you. He wasn’t going to answer Pepper until he talked to you about it. He wasn’t going to do anything that you weren’t comfortable with.

Suddenly, you landed in front of Tony. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket before looking up at you. You had the largest smile he had ever seen on you. You were slightly out of breath, but simply glowing.

“Tony,” your tone was already hinting at a request coming on.

“Yes?” He replied.

“Will you get in your suit and fly me around?”

Tony smiled, leaning into you and kissing you briefly. “Of course.” He tapped a few times on his watch screen and in no time, a suit was flying over from the Compound. It opened up and Tony quickly stepped in. You hurried over and flung yourself on his back. “You ready?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Always.”

next chapter >

[lol1tzme]

Yet another angsty depressing fic

- Phum was lost in thoughts, after coming back from the camp and after dropping of peem back to his place. He took a moment to reflect on himself as well as what has been happening in last few days. His realization of love, his fear of falling in love, the slow acceptance that yes he is indeed in love...but at the same time an ugly feeling in his heart, making him lost in thoughts.

The words of kluen loving peem, Peem's smile when he is with kluen a strak contrast to their relationship when they first met, Peem always having an annoyed look whenever bumping into him. Although it developed into something much more beautiful, his brain specifically ignored that part, highlighting those grumpy, annoyed expression of peem everytime he was with phum and those sweet happy smiles when with kluen. Those thoughts drowning phum in a spiral.

"Do I deserve him?", "Do I even deserve his love?", "I only ever annoy him", "He deserves much better", "He deserves to smile not frown"...The chain of phum thoughts was endless. The ugly feeling in his chest growing. His heart locking away, hiding in a dark corner, his feelings locked away deep in his heart.

He sat on the couch, his favorite teddy bear on his lap. He stared blankly at the stuff toy. The only ever comfort his heart excepted. He cannot even except Fang or Beer's comfort. Times like this brought back the little kid, hidden away in a corner of the room in a foreign city, with no sense of familiarity or comfort, just cold silent walls of room, only his stuff toy, tucked in his chest tightly.

The conscious part of him was aware all this thoughts made no sense. But the subconscious self kept reminding him constantly that Peem is tied to him due to the deal. Nothing more nothing less. And that led him to send a message to peem "The deal is over. You're no longer my slave". That were phum's last parting words to Peem. He blocked him. Shut off his phone and drove away somewhere. Somewhere he wouldn't feel trapped. Where he could hide away without feeling u familiar.

Peem's POV

The message left him shocked, speechless, having just finished his painting, painting the roses his phum gave him. Going to message phum to come with him to submit the work. Everything shattered once he read the two sentences. 10 missed calls, 20 unsent messages the screen read. Peem wondered what went wrong. What caused this. He thought they were better. Phum was happy right? They were going off fine weren't they? What caused this? Why did he have to disappear suddenly?

Peem went places searching for phum, calling Fang, Beer, Mick even Tan, none of them knew he was, everyone concerned. Peem reassured them somehow. Fang being handled by Tan. Q came to take peem's painting, letting him free to find his phum.

The question was, where could phum go?

Peem realised how little he knew about phum. The guy who was hanging off his shoulder almost everyday, yet he barely knew about him. Not in a way, he knew what phum liked, he knew what phum didn't like, he knew phum...yet he feels like he doesn't know him. Not even a single place comes in his mind, where phum could be. What could've upset the boy so much to make him disappear without informing anyone. Where could he find phum?

Peem was getting worried every passing second, thinking what could have happened. Did he fight with his dad again? But Fang didn't mention anything, so probably not. Did he get into fight but beer or mick would know if something Did happen, was it the camp? But he looked happy, he said he enjoyed it well except being around kluen. That clicked Peem, could it be the reason? No way right?

He ignored those question and focused on trying to think where could he go?

Part 2? This could be messed up writing, it's my first time writing something like this. I only ever write prompts or dialogues. So writing a long fic thing is kind of new for me and that too after a long time. Wait for part 2 please.

Also what do you think? What could be phum's comfort place? Was it ever mentioned in the series? Or in the novel? I am not sure. I am going to write based on what I feel like could be phum's comfort place. Also this is kind of silly...I know but I just felt like wititng it I guess. Please be considerate and point of my mistakes.. :))

[haryuwu]

🪞 Twisted Wonderland | Le Mirage

Author's note: Chapter 5 is here! 👏 After several months of not writing, I have returned to finish where I left of. Thank you for waiting this long as well! 🥺

“So you’re saying…” The Saintess of the Mirage family can see the future. Shocking, but not impossible to imagine. Those who are given a powerful gift are said to be favored by god. Such power she holds…to witness calamities before her eyes must’ve shaken her spine knowing it is meant to be inevitable.

“I never felt even more threatened in my entire life before! Was she implying that something terrible will destroy my school?!" The headmage slammed his palms against his table in distraught. The two yelped at the sight of an angered crow—and for once, they thought not to provoke him especially when it involved the college’s grave predicament. 

It was indeed an outrageous prophecy, however, they couldn’t confirm it just yet now that the Saintess had not yet clarified what was going to happen in the future. Was it close to happening? 

Just a few years away? Weeks? Days? Or…in just a few hours? Oh dear…let's not assume the worst just yet. 

"Anywho, whatever she had declared to me, the event must continue! If something strange happens, notify me right away," they stammered before they could deliver their protest. They were eventually shooed away from the headmage’s office, door slamming behind them before they could even see his disastrous rage.

Grim scratched the back of his head as he broke the silence between them, “...So what now? Should we just tell the others about this?” Obviously, they shouldn’t. Grim must’ve forgotten what the headmage had just explained earlier. The Prefect could only wish he had paid more attention to the problem.

Although it is indeed alarming enough to announce it to their friends…Wasn’t the headmage supposed to ask them another favor regarding this issue? How peculiar...Perhaps he’s too confident to say that no terrible things will occur in this school. Or is he becoming more responsible to do his job as the headmage?

Maybe, just maybe…let’s just leave it at that.

The platinum gray haired maiden rushed towards the forest as it is the only place she could think of heading first. The breeze caresses her every being, every strand of her locks sway beautifully along with her dirtied skirt. Her trembling did not come from the cold wind but her fear of failing to pass a message she’s been itching to tell the world.

…Not the world, but just anyone at this point.

“I’ve done it…I finally said it.” Same words escaped her lips, repeating them like a broken record. Her knees soon failed her by the time she gazed up at the sky as it was peeking through dancing tree leaves. The grass pierced the surface of her skin without wounding her, but she wished it was painful enough to wake her from dazing. It gave her enough space to take deep breaths and just stare at the sky blankly whilst the light went through the gaps of greens from above. 

Beside her is a puddle of water that has yet to evaporate completely. Yet she instinctively shut her eyes, avoiding it ever existing.

Louise can feel her eyes throbbing with a strong burning urge behind her eyelids, assumingly searching for another story to be witnessed that has yet to be foretold. Yet more questions loomed within her, then confusion soon took over. This power she holds is becoming more uncontrollable the closer the prophesied event gets as the days go by.

“...Why did I just say that to the headmage? Of all people—” The moment she blurted out the words she’s not supposed to spill…she regretted it instantly. She did expect him to doubt her words. It was never new to her that someone wouldn’t believe what she has seen through a glass or anything alike. 

However, a small voice still shouts within her heart that she must announce it to him as he was the only adult she can confess about the danger his school will be in. If they still keep doubting her words…the brightness of her existence will soon be tainted with ink. Utter darkness that every mage avoids from corrupting them.

'What if they continue to ignore it? What if they don't believe me?' Those questions continue to leech on her, recalling when everything fell apart that the truth she spoke of ended up being trampled coldly. Was it the time she made her first friend?

Ah, yes.

It was when she first came to realize she possesses an ability that every Mirage wanted to have, yet seen by many as either a bane of magic or a blessing. Even from a young age, she kept witnessing glimpses of occurrences through a looking glass or anything that's clear enough for her to stare intently. 

She was only 5, innocent, pure, and as bright as the full moon. Her beauty is tremendously adored by many. The girl could only wish for a friend around her age to play with in which her parents quickly fulfilled. She was moved by their willingness to give her anything. After all, she’s their one and only precious daughter.

However, those things had only given her temporary joy. It was supposed to make her happy, so they kept introducing her to other children that may interest her. Yet to no avail, little Louise could only force a smile while stating her gratitude.

What exactly caused their daughter to feel so blue? They had no idea, they never asked her even once. They could only think of making her meet more people to create stronger connections for their business. As the only heir of the Beau Company, it is natural to go through these lengths.

Despite their efforts, their daughter eventually began to forget how to smile genuinely. The only reason that has been keeping their daughter aloof was that she was often called a liar. 

.

.

.

.

"Louise, Louise! You told me you can see the future, right? The thing where you don’t use a wand at all?" One of her cousins was genuinely curious how her ability works. She constantly asked her questions even if she wished not to answer them as she finds them quite frivolous.

"Could you tell me what I will be in the future? Will I marry a handsome man? Or a wealthy one?!" …Such as these questions.

Louise was taught not to rudely refuse any requests from her family. She was born to be a frank type of person and believes her ability will only be used for emergencies. She speaks her mind, even her thoughts may spill from time to time. She eventually learned to mind her words, may it be in front of a relative or a stranger. That’s thanks to being in a well off family, any proper etiquette was taught to the child.

"Please…give me a moment," Little Louise pulled out her pocket mirror to look through. There was a glint in her eyes that oftentimes any person close to her would mistake them as real gems. In fact it was how images of the future flash before her eyes.

After seeing the events through the pocket mirror, her brows slightly furrow before breaking the news to her expectant cousin. 

"You…" She paused as she felt her stomach churn. It was not a side effect from seeing the future…rather it was the future that she finds troubling for a child to see. But since her cousin asked, she might as well tell her honestly.

"I'm sorry, but from what I saw through the mirror…you wouldn't marry a handsome man. To be more precise, you won't be able to marry anyone."

"W-What do you mean? You’re pulling my leg, are you, Louise?"

"I do not intend to sing lies to you, my dear cousin. I am only telling what I really saw and that’s the truth," Her firm statements greatly angered her cousin, causing her to throw a tantrum. Because of this, Louise was believed to be a lying young lass whose appearance is perceived to be the only thing that’s great about her. 

At first, this little argument among the children of Mirages didn't bother her in the slightest. She was still confident in her looks as she is a spitting image of their great grandmother. But the more she was given ugly nicknames by her relatives, the more she lost her self esteem.

This problem kept occurring again, and again, and again, and again…

And again. 

Until one night…looking at herself in the mirror became unbearable. Little Louise announced to her parents that their ungrateful daughter does not want to see herself through any mirrors or glasses from this day onwards. Her every word caught all of them off guard. This child, who just turned 12, detests this ability that they so badly want to get their hands on. 

“It has greatly…ruined the connections you’ve worked hard on to make our family known again, mother, father. So, I do not wish to use it anymore,” she said as she lowered her head apologetically in front of the elder Mirages, that includes her parents. At first they questioned why she doesn’t want to use such a rare ability passed down for centuries. 

But her next response utterly silenced them.

“...No one ever once said the previous Saintess was a liar.” As much as she speaks the truth, there will be those who still envy such power bestowed upon her and completely disregard her pleas. 

“Indeed, you were right. You are an ungrateful child. If you do not want to become the next Saintess, how else are you going to increase your influence throughout Twisted Wonderland?!”

Her pleas were denied. Their sudden change of tone had caused her fear for the first time. Only apologetic words escaped her lips just as how she breathes. And now she never once again spoke about what she wanted after her parents were told to watch over her strictly from now on. 

Louise von Mirage grew up not to protest against her family ever again.

.

.

.

.

“Ah…” She almost thought the sky was sorrowful as she was. Beads of tears roll down her pristine skin. All the yells that rung inside her head formed into these salty pearls she has always wanted to throw into the sea. There’s still a pang in her heart that has yet to close its wounds. But who would be able to fix this miserable lady?

One person comes to mind as she clumsily wipes off her tears.

“I…have to send another letter to Vil,” Indeed, it was the boy she used to be with since childhood. Her only hope to escape from the shackles of the name Mirage. “I still haven’t received a reply as usual. Shall I give him a visit?” While still feeling lightheaded, Louise staggered to stand and walk back to Night Raven College in search of the dorms. 

…Knowing that she’ll get lost on her way.

At last, she managed to sneak into the Hall of Mirrors. The students seem to be busy within their respective dorms. Not even a single student roaming outside was found skipping to do a hectic preparation for her supposed arrival to the school. It is as if the school became an abandoned castle, similar to what she had witnessed through the looking glass.

“Which dorm was it again? He never told me anything before he blocked me from all of his socials…” Looking at each portal, there are notable dorm emblems on the walls made in gold. Fortunately, she recalls the attire Vil wears and what students like him always gush and complain about. Looks. 

She hopes she’ll spot attractive boys or just as presentable with proper posture as he does. She fears she might mistake a different dorm by just following someone who fits the criteria. “What was the color of their uniform again…? Was it violet?” A fitting color for his image. “Aah…I wish I could see his posts in Magicam. If only he didn’t block me,” she released a sigh before sneaking to the corner. 

Torches flicker in silence as she waits for students to appear in and out of their dorms. Only a few came out in crimson vests with very notable symbols painted on their faces. “What a unique makeup,” she thought. But it’s not what she’s looking for and continued to wait for more students to come out.

Soon a group of well built students rushed out of their dorm noisily. Their strides terrified the young lady at the corner as she held her breath. It wasn’t due to the smell they emit, but due to their nature of sensing her very presence. Their ears perked up towards her direction and yet they chose to ignore their instincts. Perhaps the spell she used still hasn’t worn off.

30 minutes had passed and her feet were beginning to go numb. She watched every student come and go with different comments about the upcoming ball. Assumptions on how the Saintess would look like, interests, dislikes…and gossip of finding a suitor. It was interesting enough to know what people know more about her, however…no one knows who she truly is. 

The poor damsel is just nothing but a reflection of what they want her to be. 

“We should’ve returned 10 minutes ago! Ugh, look how tanned I’ve become. If our housewarden saw me, I wouldn’t hear the end of his scolding,” A certain student caught her attention. Purple vest, neatly clothed, sort of pompous…Yes, this is it. They are the ones she’s been looking for. 

“Pomefiore…” As she whispered the dorm’s name while an image of Vil came into her mind, she didn’t waste any more time and went through the portal. The students who she followed unknowingly lead her close to the dorm’s gates. 

“Huh? Did you sense that?” One of the boys Louise has been tailing turned to ask his friends. Guessing from her energy waning, the spell of cloaking is close to breaking. She must find a spot to hide and slowly replenish her energy. 

With a quick side step, she hid behind one of the large vases to avoid suspicion. Her feet were bare and did not make a noise, fortunately. Assuming that every Pomefiore student is busy decorating the lounge, she mustn’t step into that area and find Vil quickly.

“But where is hisroom…?” She pondered for a moment. She cannot check every room without disturbing any boys in the building nor try to spy on them by gathering information that will surely waste her time.

A sound of clacking of a heel can be heard from a distance. Someone was approaching, so Louise quickly ran and hid herself behind the curtains. She prayed that no one would notice her bare feet exposed.

“Ah, roi du poison. I have seen your latest ad today. The moisturizer you’ve introduced to me miraculously softened the tips of my fingers!” A voice of a young man who seems to be eccentric echoed through the halls. 

“I have ordered 5 more boxes! Even without opening its lid, it smelled divine.” Smell…the lady thought of an idea. But she must hear the rest if ever he mentions the exact smell of this moisturizer…so that she must buy a whole set of it after this!

“It has a lot of fragrances and the staff insisted I use all of them. One of the samples was lavender. It sticks longer than the rest.” Louise’s chest tightens for a moment as he recognizes the other student’s voice. Isn’t that…

“Vil…?” There was no noise that left her mouth to speak that very name of the guy she’s been searching for at this very moment. It was as though uttering it in his presence would take her breath and lose him once again. 

“Oh yes, indeed! Didn’t you also mention she preferred that specific fragrance when you were both young?” Vil stopped on his tracks and faced the guy who she does not recognize. He seemed rather annoyed by his remarks. 

“Would you mind dropping this subject about her? I know you’re curious but it isn’t the right time,” Knowing the position of an important person within this building must’ve been incredibly hectic and exhausting. Keeping the same beauty to ever glow tremendously is also one of his jobs in the industry. Hearing that the talk about her bothers him…perhaps he hasn’t forgotten about the incident after all. 

“But dodging this subject wouldn’t do any good to your complexion. Don’t you think it’s time we try to mend your ties with her?” There’s nothing scarier than the silence before speaking the truth or a lie. The very things she couldn't handle from the boy she admires.

“...My ties with the Mirage are all tightened knots. Cutting it off is easier than trying to loosen it. So there’s nothing to mend,” Vil shattered Louise’s hopes of getting to reach for him once more. If that’s what he thinks of her, only one of the Mirages, then all of her effort to run away from the beginning was all for naught.

The pain she has felt from years ago suddenly returned, crushing her heart. She only stepped out just to see his silhouette going further away from her. She couldn’t feel her numb feet anymore nor did she feel the pearls of salt rolling down her cheeks. Unable to scream his name, she decided to turn away. However, when she finally turned around…

“Huh…?” A beautiful boy stood just 5 feet away with his mouth agape from the sight of her. He couldn’t react as loudly as he usually does as if he was struck by lightning. 

‘Who’s this?’ He thought. ‘A ghost? She’s too stunnin’!’ Although before his voice could utter those same questions, she disappeared into thin air. The glow she emitted shocked his young heart and those sorrowful eyes…At that moment, he’s convinced that what he just witnessed might’ve been a roaming ghost of beauty.

A weeping white lady.

“R-Rook! You saw that, didn’t you?! I can’t be the only one who saw that, right?!” Rook, who turned his head the moment before the lady disappeared, smiled from ear to ear. He sensed that someone had been spying on them even before Epel arrived. He secretly used his signature spell to locate her later if ever she attempts an escape. 

Her face was something that completely invaded his memory as soon as he saw her eyes. That beauty almost moved him to tears. 

“My…I don’t know what you’re talking about, monsieur crabapple.” Yet he still lied through his teeth.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter ➵ Next Chapter

[peachdoxie]

Wind and Truth chapters 3 & 4 thoughts!

The Wind told me, before she vanished, that it was the change in Odium’s vessel that restored her voice. I wonder. Perhaps it is the new storm, making people begin to reconsider that the wind is not their enemy.

Hmm. This seems to imply that the in-world Knights of Wind and Truth was written after the events of Wind and Truth, or at least after Words of Radiance.

Strength could be a matter of perception sometimes. And today Shallan found she could choose strength.

Jasnah's words still echoing within Shallan, nice.

Maya was obviously paying attention. She wasn’t completely healed—her eyes were scratched out and her coloring was a wan brown instead of vibrant green like others of her kind—but she was getting better. She no longer wandered off or just stared blankly during conversations. She was also starting to talk more and more.

Yay!

“Some of us learned you could capture spren in gemstones,” he explained. “And Mishram—for all her power—is a spren. The Radiants prepared a flawless heliodor the color of sunlight, and they trapped her inside, then hid her prison. Not in the Physical Realm, and not in Shadesmar.” He bit his lip, then forced out another part. “In the Spiritual Realm. Melishi hid it there.”

Well, that probably explains Dalinar and Navani's adventure into the Spiritual Realm as mentioned in the blurb.

His pattern slowed, then finally he laced his fingers together. “Very well. Though, you know when I said I was sure you wouldn’t get me killed?” “Yes?” “I should like,” he declared, “to make a retraction.”

I fucking love Pattern.

I have read that in the ancient days, the Wind often spoke to both human and singer. It would then mean that the Wind stopped talking not because of Odium, but because of people who began to fear her… Or to worship the Storm instead.

Fascinating ancient Roshar lore

“Ah, Wema,” Wit mumbled, turning the page. “You’ve finally noticed what a catch Vadam is? Let’s see how you screw it up.”

LMAO Wit is reading An Accountability of Virtue from Oathbringer? Also looking up the title of the book makes the context of Wit's rant about virtue even more interesting. Also: fuck you Sanderson for apparently setting this moment up some one million words ago.

“Give it a try. It has the same fingerings as the one you lost and recovered, though not the same… capacity.”

Wit suggesting that the flute is abnormal in some way

“Long ago,” Wit said softly, “that rhythm guided humans across the void from one planet to the other. They followed it to reach your world.”

Interesting....

“The wind,” Kaladin guessed. “The wind was listening.” ... “When this world was created,” Wit said, “long before Honor, Cultivation, or Odium arrived, Adonalsium left something behind on it. Sometimes it’s called the Old Magic. Sometimes that term is applied to the Nightwatcher, who came—with Cultivation’s efforts—from one of those ancient spren. Listen to the Wind when it speaks, Kaladin. It’s weaker than it once was, but it has seen so very much.”

FASCINATING ancient Roshar lore

“Because this is the journey, Kaladin,” Wit said softly. “The last part of it. Listen to me: I want you to practice with that flute until you make the sound return to you. Because that will mean Roshar is listening.”

This feels very ominous to me and I'm scared

He raised his finger at that last word, and angerspren burst around his feet, like pools of boiling blood, as if on cue.

Has Wit ever drawn spren before? I can't remember.

He glanced at Syl. “This is where Jasnah is wrong about hope, smart though she is in so many ways. If hope doesn’t mean anything to you when you lose, then it wasn’t ever a virtue in the first place. It took me a long time to learn that, and I finally did so from the writings of a man who lost every belief he thought he had, then started over new.” “Sounds like someone wise,” Syl said. “Oh, Sazed is among the best. Hope I get to meet him someday.”

SAZED NAME DROP!!!!!!!

“That’s it, eh?” Wit said. “Just you becoming your world’s first therapist.” Kaladin glanced at Syl, who shook her head. “We have no idea what that is, Wit.”

Lmao

Kaladin felt a chill. “I’m… never going to see you again, am I, Wit?”

I REALLY do not like this. It's so ominous. What's gonna happen to Kaladin?

[medusapelagia]

Learning to Love 2

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,..)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve /Billy Tags: enemies to lovers, mention of parent's death (Steve's mom), mention of domestic violence Words: 1870

Harrington's place is a solitary house in the middle of nothing, surrounded by the woods and nothing else. Billy appreciates the privacy; no noisy neighbors that might call the police if they hear a few screams, like it wasn’t a normal thing, and no one around to see him limp the day after. Not bad at all.

Neil was even proud of him when he told him that he was going to tutor the richest boy in town.

He literally said, "Kid, I'm proud of you." Which is a first in Billy's life.

If the big house and the heated pool didn't give away how rich Harrington's family is, the doorbell would, it sounds like the doorbell they have in the old big mansions and Billy is almost expecting a butler in a pressed uniform showing him the living room instead of his schoolmate.

"You came." Harrington says, almost surprised.

"Told you I would. Are you disappointed, pretty boy?"

Steve shrugs, moving from the door and gesturing to Billy to get inside. The house is super modern and cold, the living room seems ready to be the set of a sitcom, the kitchen is so clean that it almost shines and Steve's room is the most boring room he has ever seen; there is nothing personal, not a trinket, a picture, a sporting trophy, nothing at all, just a desk and few books there are lying on the side.

"Do you want something to drink?" Steve asks, annoyed.

"I'm not here for a courtesy visit, I'm here to help you because you are too stupid to do your fucking homework and you need a babysitter." Billy snarls, ready to fight, but Steve doesn't take the bait, he sits at his desk and stares at his books.

"Where would you like to start?" He asks, pointing at the pile of books.

"What do you need more help with?"

"Math."

"Let's start there."

Steve takes his book and opens it, staring at the first problem.

"Come on! It is an easy one!" Billy sighs, taking the book and quickly solving the problem while Steve stares blankly at him "Can you just concentrate a little for Christ's sake! You didn't even write the right numbers! Are you stupid? Can't you copy some fucking numbers?"

Steve flinches, moving away from Billy. Billy sighs, this is not going well. He takes a deep breath and thinks about the waves of the ocean, trying to calm himself and when he feels a little bit settled he asks "Why... why didn’t you write the correct numbers?"

"I did!" Steve replies, "I can copy some stupid numbers, ok?"

Billy stares at him for a long moment and he sees how the boy squints while reading.

"Do you wear glasses?" He asks and Steve glares at him.

"Of course I don't, jackass!"

"Well, maybe you should. Have you seen a doctor recently?" After Billy broke a plate on his head.

"I... I don't like doctors." Steve confesses blushing in embarrassment.

“Are you scared of doctors?” Billy mocks him and Steve turns his face, avoiding Billy’s stare “Are you serious?” 

“I’m not scared… I just… I don't like them.”

Billy stares at him for the longest time before Steve finally cracks. “When mom went to the hospital… she never came back, ok? I know that’s stupid but I can’t deal with the smell of disinfectant ok? And I’m young and healthy, I don’t need a doctor!”

Billy can understand the fear of the doctors, the few times Neil brought him there with a broken arm or to fix his nose, he was always terrified that those doctors, who asked so many questions about how he got hurt, would have taken him away. Living with Neil was no fun, but living in a foster family didn’t sound much better either.

“I’m not saying you should do a complete checkup, I’m just suggesting that you might want to see an eye doctor, so maybe everyone will stop thinking that you’re stupid.”

“I don’t give a shit about what everyone else thinks about me! I was their fucking god and now what? You came to town, took my place and all my friends forgot about me. I guess they weren’t my friends after all and you are not my friend either! And I don’t need to study all this stupid shit because I’m going to work with my father as soon as I get out of high school! So what the fuck do you want from me? I’ll give you a good review, I’ll say that you were the best tutor ever. Let me copy you from your test and we’ll be good!”

Billy shakes his head “No.”

“What?!”

“No. I will not let you copy from me and I don’t give a fuck about your stupid opinion of my tutoring skills. I just gave you a suggestion, you don’t want to follow it? Fine.” Billy replies, ready to get back to his place. Harrington is avoiding his stare, he is clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles are white.

“Stop being such a baby. You can’t take any criticism!”

“What about you? You come here, to my house, telling me that I’m either stupid or blind! What did you expect?” Steve snaps.

Billy gets up, grabs his things, and pushes them in his backpack. Fuck Harrington! Billy doesn’t have to help him! He doesn’t owe him anything! It’s not his fault if his sight is shitty!

Only… maybe it is.

Only… Steve actually tried to help Max.

Only… Billy is not the dickhead he pretends to be.

“I could… I could come with you.” He suggests, keeping his back to Harrington, his hand on the handle of the door.

“And what? Hold my hand like a fucking child?” Steve snarls, throwing what’s left on the desk to the ground.

Billy dares to turn, this time it’s Steve who has his back turned. “If that’s what you need.” Billy steps forward, not daring to touch the other boy but wanting to let him know that he is there, that he is listening “Where is your father?”

“Russia? China? Don’t remember. He must have written it on the calendar, I don’t really check anymore.” Steve replies and Billy sighs. He never really understood how lonely Steve must feel now that his friends have turned their back on him and even his girlfriend left him.

“Was she worth it?” Billy asks, and Steve’s shoulders stiffen “Was she worth losing your privileges? And your friends?”

“If I lost my friend it is not her fault. She is… She was… well, she was everything I wanted, the only problem was that I wasn’t enough for her.” Steve says in a self-deprecating tone. “It’s the story of my life. I’m not bad, but I’m never enough, no matter how hard I try. Even my father thinks that I’m not enough and he should know, right? He is my father.”

Billy gets closer to Steve and forces him to turn toward him, “Listen to me. You are the only one who knows your worth, ok? Not Wheeler, not your father, not those stupid boys at school! And if you keep repeating to yourself that you are not enough, you’ll end up believing that! So look me in the eye and tell me something good about you.”

Steve tries to free himself from Billy’s grip “What the fuck? I don’t do this stupid shit. If I needed a therapist…”

“Look me in the eye and tell me something good about yourself.” That’s a game Billy’s mother made with him every time Neil belittled him, and it worked every single time.

“I… I…”

“One thing, I know you can do it.”

“I’m… I’m brave.”

Billy smiles “Yes, you are. Good job, Harrington.” He tells him, patting his back, ready to leave.

“Hey…” Steve calls him, finally getting up from the chair. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I was going to order pizza and watch a movie.”

Billy stops, wondering if Neil would get mad at him “Can I call home? I’m not sure if Susan already cooked.”

“Sure. The phone is in the living room.”

Billy and Steve get downstairs and Billy calls home, it’s Susan who answers and tells him that Neil is not home yet but that he can stay out for dinner, he just has to be home by ten. 

They order pizza and watch a movie and for Billy it is the first time ever. He never invited anyone to his place and he didn’t get invited much, always too unpredictable to be invited to someone’s home. Maybe that’s why he and Steve are perfect; Steve feels like he is not enough, and Billy feels that he is too much.

“Will you book a visit to the eye doctor? I’ll drive you.” Billy asks while they are watching an action movie.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either, so Billy nods and goes back home. As soon as he enters his father calls him, asking him where he was, and when he tells him that he was at Harrington’s house his father seems really pleased. “Those rich boys are always stupid, aren’t they? But my boy is so clever that he is the one who is going to help that stupid kid. You’ll do great things, I know, you are just like me.”

Every time that Neil says that they are similar Billy feels some disgust about himself. He doesn't want to be like Neil, and even if he knows that his outbursts are so similar to the one his father has, he is trying his best not to become like him. Waking up one day and seeing Neil Hargrove in the mirror is Billy’s greatest fear. Not being beaten to death by his father, not getting married to a woman he will never love because he likes boys, not being trapped in a life he knows he will hate every single day. The only thing that terrifies him, the only ones he prays from every night, kneeling on the side of his bed, folded hands and eyes closed, is not becoming like his father. 

He always lived a life where he was always ready to fight for dominance and he is so tired of being alert at all times.

Max is sitting next to Susan, watching a television show together, “Steve’s house is so cool, right? Did you see the heated swimming pool?”

“We studied, I wasn’t there to have fun.”

“I know…” Max snorts “I just thought that maybe… but you are right. You are no fun!” She rebukes, finally leaving him alone.

Billy’s room is full of music posters, he has a big stereo and a vanity made with plastic crates where his few precious belongings rest: a strong male perfume, the same brand his mother bought him years ago, and the golden necklace he received as a gift for his christening.

He stares at himself in the mirror, somehow he feels a little bit less angry and skittish, is it possible that spending time with Harrington might really be beneficial for both of them?

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hi, can I have some fluff/comfort with a bit of angst please? I have a very bad memory and am quite an anxious person. Sometimes (quite often) not remembering something makes me paranoic. I would really love to get some comfort from a Yautja (male or female, can be a specific like Gawtin or Vic'tao). Thanks!

Remembrance

Pairing: Gawtin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3688

Summary: No matter what you do, you lose something. A pencil you just had eyes on. It's gone. You get up to eat and fill up your bottles. The moment you step out of the room, the thought has been plucked from your mind. Beyond everything, you are growing with frustration. It's starting to pile up.

Author Note: I'm sooooo sorry this took so long to get to. Work has pushed my hours past what I want lately (not that I'm complaining about hours, never). It just leaves with no energy or time to write or have freetime. I will be keeping my asks closed for a little longer. I have a couple personal projects I need to finish first.

P.s. Thank you so much for letting me do Gawtin. I love writing about her!

Masterlist

Ao3

This is not beta read, sorry!

One step into the kitchen and the thought on your mind was plucked out. All you could do was staring blankly at the wooden floors. Thoughts were running wild inside of your brain. What were you doing? There was a reason you had come to kitchen. What was it? You chewed at your bottom and tasted blood. Crap, you had torn open the newly scabbed wound.

Your fingers started to twitch, buzzing with energy. With a disappointed shake of your head, you pivoted back around and marched back towards the extra bedroom. Your art room. Gawtin had gifted it to you when the supplies she had been collecting were piling up. You had felt bad for taking up more of her space in her own home. Gawtin wouldn’t let that pass though, stating this was your space as much as hers. All she wants in ‘return’ was to watch you work sometimes.

Gawtin liked to reference watching T.V. on earth. You retorted with the fact it must be a boring show to observe. She never complained. The amazement in her eyes at each stroke of your pencil or brush made you blush.

Art colorful and bland covered the walls. Some painted, others sketches. The last little bit were colored with pencils. That’s a skill you still struggled and didn’t like to put up those finished ones yet. They weren’t up to your standards.

At this point, you had even forgotten that you had forgotten what you were originally doing before leaving here. You sat heavily down in your chair once more and set down your water bottle. It squeaked underneath your weight but stayed sturdy. Another present from Gawtin, the goddess herself.

Said yautja had left earlier, closely after the morning sun had breached the horizon. Rosy, soft fingers spreading out on the yellow-blue sky. Yautja Prime vastly different than earth. Even when the sun fell below and hid away for countless hours, the forest produced a sweating heat during this season. You’ve come to feel a frustrated anger for the hot season. You weren’t built for this weather, no matter where you lived before.

Being human could have it perks out in the universe. When it came to adapting, you did that well. A biting cold, a jacket would do you good. This heat though. A swim in the lake nearby could cool you, if it wasn’t for your ankles getting bitten off a danger. Come to Yautja Prime where everything wanted to kill you and more!

Don’t kid yourself though. Yautja Prime was extraordinary in its own way. It’s not as diverse to biomes as earth. It holds a constant warm climate over everyone, gripping it in a tight grasp. The humidity was horrible. You’ve taken a trip to Hawaii before. This didn���t compare to that. In the end you wouldn’t trade being here than being back on your planet.

Your stomach growled and twisted. Hungry? How were you hungry? When was the-you were going to the kitchen for food! And to fill up on your water bottle. How in the world were you alive at this point with forgetting things like that? Important things as well.

Some days you wondered if Gawtin truly likes you or a small part of her thundering heart pities you. Maybe she thinks of you like Qui? Small, frail, weak. Nothing more, just to protect you from the harsh world you live in. Well, now it was the universe. You shook your head though to clear those thoughts and stood up from the chair. The once discard bottle returned your hand.

The kitchen was midsize. It fit well in Gawtin’s dwelling. Not too big nor too small. A portion had been changed to fit for more variety for yourself. You smiled at the reminder of how much she loved you before going to the fridge for water.

Unlike Gawtin herself, you’re unable to drink straight from the spring nearby. You learned that the first few days you were here. Never. Again. That was one day you wished to perish to the depths of hell and never come back. Worst of all, it was embarrassing. Right in front of Gawtin. But like the steady Yautja she is, she didn’t waver. She just fretted over you, questioning what had happened. One day you hate to recall.

So, Gawtin retrieved a water purifier just for you. It’s design similar to those back home. Praise the lord. You filled up the metal bottle you had and scanned through the fridge. The goddess herself hadn’t let you know when she would return. It couldn’t be long since she left Qui for a nap. She trusted you to care for the child but knew it could overwhelm you at points. God, you loved that alien so much.

The door was closed with your hip once an assortment of berries in a bowl had been chosen. Nothing poisonous, that you’ve learned of yet. You strolled back towards the art room when you heard the front door slide open.

Instinctually, you twirled around to face the known form at the door. There, in all of her glory, stood Gawtin. Not a thing was out of place on her. Perfect, as always. “Hey, love!” you greeted and changed your path to move towards her. Said alien moved into the dwelling and spread her out.

If you were Yautja, you would take offence at the dominate display. You weren’t though. You bounded over to her and embraced her. Gawtin returned not a second later the action and purred. “It is good to see you, artful one,” she said, voice vibrating with her purrs. She gave one last squeeze then released you. “Hmm, those a good choice for a snack.”

That sparked an idea inside of you cranum. You plucked one of the berries from the bowl and held it up to her. With a skill that takes years to master, she pinches the round fruit from your hands and eats it. How she is able to do that? You have no clue.

.

The pencil. Gone. Poof! Where had it gone? One moment it was in your hands. The next, gone from sight and mind. You had just set it down. It had to be right here, on your desk. You had set it down for one second to grab something else. Now it was gone. A groan vibrated your ribcage as you slid down awkwardly in the comfortable chair.

Why does this happen to you? It keeps happening too. One day… it’s going to escalate. One day, it’s going to be a damn pencil. The next, the child. Said child was more than happy on his spot next to you.

Similar to a cat, you created a blanket nest he loves to curl up in and watch you. Those eyes, just like his father, observed every move made. Maybe one day, he’ll have a little artistic side like yourself. It’ll be overpowered by his mother’s side of hunting and learning to survive. But one day, you would love to see what can create with his hands.

Qui clicked something, small mandibles tapping one another. This drew your attention fully down to him, painting, food, and water discarded. “Wassup, kiddo?” you questioned. He was you responsibility for the moment. His mother placed that into your hands to care for him. Plus, a tiny part of your brain saw him as your own kid. You won’t bring that up, ever. You don’t want to confuse or ruin the little family you had going on here.

All he did in response was garble baby talk at you. You snorted with a shake of your head, unable to understand a lick of what he had said. Almost two years of learning of Yautja for yourself and it did nothing to save you in this situation. “Okay then. Have you seen my pencil though? It has decided to disappear.”

Those big eyes of his stare deep into your soul. Hmm, right. No translator either for him. He has listened to you and Gawtin speak in English, but he first needs to learn Yautja. You made motion with your hands as if you were drawing or writing. This seemed to connect the dots inside of his head. Qui-oky brough up a stubby hand to the side of his head and patted. This confused you. Well, you should save, you must’ve puzzled the child with the motion.

When you seemed to not understand him, he reinforced the patting then pointed past you, by your head. Dumbfounded, you turned to see what Qui was motioning towards. As you turned, he screeched with frustration. Your head whipped back down to him, brows heavily furrowed. What in the world?! You’ve only heard him make that noise twice.

With a grumble, the kid stood up on wobbly legs and stumbled over to you. His tiny hands grasped at the clothing on your legs and pulled. It took you a moment to realize he wanted up. You helped him in your lap. Qui unsteadily stood up and tugged on something tucked on top of your ear. That’s when it hit you, hard.

The pencil. It was right there. The whole time. Your lips pressed together as you chewed at the inside of your cheek. With all of your efforts, you were able to stop tears from springing to life.

Qui held the pencil in front of you with a knowing look that you easily read: ‘I was trying to tell you this whole time’. Out of the years of your life, this was one of the most embarrassing times you have ever experienced. A heavy, hot blush raced up from your neck, all the way to the tips of you ears. “Th-thanks, Qui,” you mumbled and grasped the pencil.

Once he believed you could be left with the pencil, he carefully clambered down. The small Yautja returned to his blanket bed and pulled a pelt over him.

It left you stumbling about with your trembling emotions. In the moment, all you could do was peer at the piece of wood and graphite in your shaking hand. How could you fail so hard with simple tasks? Every. Single. Day.

Forgetting to eat. A normal person wouldn’t do that. Or drinking. How could anyone forget to do that? You. You could. An object gets placed down, for just a second and its lost to the voids of the universe. Like this damn pencil. But that’s not all you’ve lost and found – or not. Canvases, brushes, paint, books, etc. The list could go on and on and on.

Your bottom lip wobble. Your eyes burned. No! You weren’t going to cry. You’re stronger than that. Get over it. Any words of encouragement you gave to yourself wasn’t working. With a push harder than you meant to you, you stood up from your chair and marched out of the room. Moving was good. It helped you work out buzzing nerves.

In most cases.

Not this time.

It felt like moving just made your shaking worse. Why was it so hard to remember things? Such a simple thing part of human life and you can fucking do that. And the kid. You fully heartily knew he didn’t mean any harm but it pushed you over the edge.

All of this was piling over the course the day. Probably the course of the month. This had been getting worse lately. For what reason, you had no clue. It kept nagging at you each time you had remembered what had been forgotten. Such a failure. What was Gawtin thinking when she had to help or see you like this? Forgetting easy things around the house. A cup left in the wrong place. A pelt tucked away somewhere you never had put it.

The front door slides open. Your pacing – one creating a hole into the ground – stopped at the sound. Your head whipped to find the goddess in green standing in the doorway. Those vibrant purple eyes already locked onto the moment she was revealed. Your heart stuttered at the sight of her, haloed by the bright, harsh sun that beats down on this planet.

Her predatory eyes softened. It was like she could read your mind and emotions. She knew what was happening before she even saw you. Her long bottom mandibles clicked against one another, nothing of words. “Tressure.” You don’t know what happened but you flinched as if Gawtin had raised a threatening paw. Your shoulders drew up, face twisted with fear. Why? You had no answer.

A sound you’ve never made heard her make pierced through the tense air. She had whined. Not even when the two of you had sex, has she ever made that noise. You kept that pathetic position, unable to look your lover in the eye. How could you? You were a failure at the most easiest things that you human. Can’t do anything right with your life.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked and played with the hem of your shirt. It was pointless to hold back a dam worth of tears. The walls crumbling underneath the weight. Tears poured down your face and dropped onto the tile floor. “I’m sorry.” It’s all you could say.

The air shifted with movement. Carefully placed steps stalked their way over to you before stopping right in front of you. There was no other person besides her.

Pads of well worn fingers softly scrapped against the skin of your cheek. You fought against her, not wanting her to see the shame and embarrassment that painted your face. Gawtin always won.

With your eyes still closed -not daring to look her in the eye, you easily felt that heavy, piercing gaze settled on you. The course scaled on her thumb grazed the length of your cheek bone. It felt like it slowly softening you up, coaxing you to open up for the goddess.

And it was working.

“My artist, look at me,” she gently demanded of you. The last of your resistance flowed from your veins, vanished with her words. Kind eyes filled with love and concern peered closely at you. Your heart and breath quickening at first. A dreadful fear filling your body from head to toe. An unreasonable reaction to your goddess in green.

“There you are. What is the matter?” she questioned, usually gruff voice quieted with her demeanor. Your eyes darted away, finding anything and everything to look at. Gawtin’s other massive paw joined on the other side of your face. You sagged into the feeling, relishing in the comfort that settled into your bones. It fought against the terror in your veins. “My ooman, I need you to tell me your problems. I will requifiy them.”

By the grace of god, you loved her so fucking much. Her words soothed over you like a warm shower, washing away every bad feeling inside of you. “I-I,” you take a deep breath in, hold it, then released it. “I can’t do anything right,” you finally relented, letting your greatest fault be known to her. Not that she didn’t know already.

This took the Yautja by surprise. She jerked her head back, trinkets and jewelry attached to her tresses slapping against her back and chest. Her mandibles spread out in displeasure. Then, Gawtin started to push at you, crowding you with her massive body towering over you. Soon, your back met the wall, pressed up against with some of Gawtin’s weight.

“No.” Stern. Firm. There was no arguing with the tone she used. One, a mother would use on their child. “Do. Not. Say. That.”

Heartbreak. Gawtin felt a whirlwind of emotions sweep through her body. Yet, her main focus was settled on you. Always on you. She desperately needed to know why you were thinking that way. What had happened while she was gone and fix it. She couldn’t bare to see you like this, broken and upset.

You kept your mouth shut, closed without a sound. Your eyes set on her only. It was fear that paralyzed you once more but not because of her. Never because of her. You don’t know why you were scared but it held you in a tight grip, unable to move or make a noise. It left you trembling in her hold, pressed against the cool wall.

“Why do you think that?” First, assess the situation. Figure out the roots of the problem and work your way up. It broke her mighty heart to see you like this, shaking worse than a leaf. You bit at your bottom lip, kneading it between dull teeth. “You know you can tell me anything, tressure.”

From the bottom of your heart, you desperately knew that. All the time. She was here for you. Caring and keeping an eye on you. “I… things. I can’t remember where I put things. I set it down and poof, it’s gone forever. Why do you keep me around if I can-“ a course palm settled over your lips, silencing you from saying anymore.

“I bear my heart to you,” she said and ended with your name. That caught your attention. She rarely says it. It was always terms of endearment or others. “I adore having you around. It feels lonely, empty in my heart when you are not nearby. I ache for your presence. Do you understand?” Gawtin removed her hand from your mouth to let you speak.

With a drop of hesitance entering your veins, you dipped your head. “That is my answer. You’re my answer to everything, artful one. You color my life with your love, making me realize that I need you. Forever.” Your bottom lip wobbled again, fresh tears filling your eyes. Her words… They way she spoke. How can she just say that?

“Would you like for me to make an appointment for a healer? They could find solutions to the reason on why you forget so much. And, my ooman, it is okay to forget things. Please don’t get frustrated with yourself. Come to me and we can figure it out. Together.” Gawtin backed off, relenting the pressure that pressed you into the wall. “It is okay to be okay.”

And that’s all you needed to hear.

Tears flowed freely down the length of your cheeks before dropping down to the floor. Gawtin used her thumbs to wipe away a majority of the salty water. “What would you like to do, artful one,” she questioned, voice continuing to low and soft. It felt like it was a brush soothing over the shell of your ear.

“I really want to cuddle, right now,” you answered, eyes darting to the side.

Gawtin dipped her head, thick tresses swaying with the movement. “We can more than happily do that. Let me grab Qui. Then we can cuddle out on the couch,” Gawtin explained and pulled almost fully away from you. Her warmth stolen by the goddess herself.

Your eyes widened. The kid. Qui! Shit, you’ve… forgotten. You are supposed to be watching over him, like a parent. How co- Gawtin nuzzled her temple against yours. Without words, she knew what you needed at the moment. All she needed to do was read your face and bring you from that mindset once more. She grabs at one of your hands and engulfs it with her own.

The tension that clawed through your shoulders was released, falling away like rain. Gawtin began to purr and kissed with her mandibles folded in on the back of your hand. “Qui-oky?” Then she clicked something in Yautja at the child.

Pitter-patter of bare feet slapped against the wooden floors. At the sound, an amused smile graced your chewed lips. Qui appeared in the doorway. Without stopping, he ran all the way to his mother and latched onto her leg. Yautja tumbled from his small mandibles. To you, it sounded all like baby talk. Not a word understood with yourself.

Gawtin bent down, scoop the child off of the ground, and held him in her arms. Qui leaned over to you and plucked something tucked on top of your ear. It was your pencil. He held it to you, in a similar manner compared to earlier. You pressed your lips together and took it back. “Thanks, kiddo.” Your usually soft voice towards him had turned dead. Just another reminder on how you couldn’t function like a normal person.

Out of nowhere, Gawtin grasped the pencil from him and tucked it into a pouch on her clothe belt. Her hand returned to swallow yours and tugged at you to follow her. Without complaint, you shadowed behind the behemoth that she is.

The three of you had settled on the expansive couch. Gawtin was the only one truly sitting on it. Qui had taken his spot between the two of you. You had taken roost on one of her thick, muscular thighs. Your legs straddling her own. You had snuggled underneath her chin, content with the warmth that radiated off of her heavily.

Qui-oky chose to bury himself on the same side as you into Gawtin’s side. She wouldn’t allow you to move either. The two of you stuck against her like this. Not that you were complaining.

A course finger ran up to the base of your skull before threading into your hair. You instantly sagged against her, eyes hooded over. “Good ooman,” she purred softly and scratched at your scalp carefully. Mmmm, that’s the spot. You knew she had to be mentally saying you’re so easy to mess with.

She kept you against her for an unknown amount of time. Nothing else mattered besides your little family. Each one of you had your issues, more than others. None of that mattered to any of you. Just the love that flowed in each of your veins and gulfed everyone.

You may have trouble remembering things. Misplaced items or something just disappearing out of thin air. What you will never forget is the fact that Gawtin and Qui love you with all of their hearts and more.

[3-pots-of-soup]

lil zoo keeper au fic:D im not great at writing dialogue and such, so apologies if you cringe + any feedback/constructive criticism is appreciated!!

wc: 663

tw: non

ships: non

Pearl’s day was off to an awful start; first she’d slept through her alarm, making her rush through her morning routine, then discovered her roommate and half brother Grian had drunken the last of the coffee. “This day *cannot* get worse.” Pearl said mid traffic jam.

Her day, could, in fact, get far worse.

She arrived to work thankfully on time and began her trek to the invertebrate house, on the other side of the zoo; she was so excited for the construction on the north entrance to finish.

When Pearl finally entered the invert house she was immediately greeted by loud chirping and a very frantic Mumbo “PEARL PEARL!! THE GRASSHOPPERS GOT OUT!!”

“WHAT DO YOU *MEAN* THE GRASSHOPPERS GOT OUT?!”

“I MEAN THEY HAVE ESCAPED THEIR ENCLOSURE AND. THEY. ARE. *EVERYWHERE*.”

As Pearl took in her surroundings she found that her coworker was right. The grasshoppers were indeed *everywhere*. “The zoo opens in under a half hour what do we do?” She asked in a panic.

“Scoop them up?” Mumbo suggested hesitantly.

“And put them where? It’ll take hours if we do it pick them up and put them back in the tank one by one- hold on how did they even get out in the first place?” Pearl questioned.

“Er, I might have forgotten to close their tank properly after I fed them last night.” Mumbo squeaked out.

Pearl stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then spun on her heel and began walking out of the building “Wait where are you going?” Mumbo asked in a panicked tone “Please Please don’t leave me alone with this disaster!!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few, I’ve got a plan!” And with that Pearl bolted out the door

As quick as she could Pearl ran towards the nearest drink stand “CUPS!” She shouted

“What?” Replied the bewildered employee

“ANIMAL ESCAPE I NEED CUPS WITH LIDS!”

The employee, name badge reading ‘Shelby S.’ responded by quickly grabbing a small stack of plastic cups and a small stack of lids for them “this enough?” She asked

“That’s perfect thank you!” Pearl said grabbing the cups and racing back to the invert house. She returned to a sign on the door in rather poor handwriting that read ‘Building not opem’. When she attempted to open the door she found that it was locked, and when she reached down to grab her keys, she found that the carabiner that normally held them, along with her id, was gone “dammmnn ittt.” She groaned, dragging her words, and began to bang on the doors.

It was only a minute or so until she saw Mumbo race over one hand in a gentle fist, hurriedly opening the door to let her in “what’s in your hand?” Pearl questioned once inside

“A grasshopper.” Her friend replied.

“Here” said Pearl, rolling her eyes and placing a cup in his free hand “you can put a few in here, toss the lid on, and once we have a few cups, we can put them back in their tank all at once.”

“Have I ever mentioned you’re a genius?”

“Yes, but you could certainly do it more often; now let’s get bug catching!” With that the duo spent the next hour or so running about catching grasshoppers.

“I really don’t get why they keep the feeder insects in here and not in houses where they’re used.” Mumbo commented from his spot on the floor

“I agree, but I suppose it makes sense to keep all the colonies in one space, and if they have to be kept in one place, I can see the logic behind putting them with the other bugs, still, sucks *we* have to deal with them.” Pearl said, laughing a bit, “now up you get! We have to open this place up, there’s still like,” Pearl checked her watch and groaned “*eight hours* till closing.”

“Alright, alright” Mumbo sighed, pulling himself up “let’s unlock those doors.”

That’s all i have atm, my plan for the au is to write one-shots for various povs:D might have some shipping here and there (mumscarian my beloved) but it won’t be the focus! Again any/all feed back welcome, and thanks for reading!!!!

-🥘

[of-the-eventide]

WIP Wednesday*:･ﾟ✧

I'm gonna be doing wip Wednesday every now and then for a fic I'm writing just so it keeps me motivated. Everyone is allowed to join in too, tag me in all your wips I would love to see them!

While Ito walked through the small number of halls of the Scions headquarters with a uniquely passive face, their mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and unknown emotions. They could not have thought even for a second that this is where their brother’s suggestion of going to Eorzea would go. He sent them on their way with the words of ‘finding a purpose’ and while it could have amounted to something as grand as this, Ito was sure that Yoshiaki meant travel the land, see the sights, eat some good food, meet some people. Not joining a vigilante group of all Kami forsaken things…

They wandered the small building, ignoring waves and cries for them to join groups either drinking or playing a game of cards. If they noticed the wondering stare of a certain white haired Scion they didn’t care to remark upon it. Probably due to the fact that they continued to talk in circles around their head, chewing on nails as they paced between the halls they have now wandered to and thorough a number of times. Would Yoskiaki give them a pat on the back for this? The Scions were even heard of in Doma, hard not to when the fall of the moon was watched with keen eyes everywhere. So, yes Yoskiaki would probably pick them up and spin them around for having a hero for a sibling. Yet to find themselves here… That sure was NOT what Ito promised their brother by keeping safe. Hells, if they really thought about it they’ve broken that promise the minute they stood up for those refugees in Ul’dah and gained the ire of five prominent figures max. Then continued to go against it every time they took a more and more dangerous quest for the hope of… Of what? Now that made Ito pause their parade march around the building. What were they doing, really? What was the point to all this grandstanding heroism they somehow found themselves indulging in? Did they even even want to be here in Eorzea after all? Should they go home and quit, go back to trying to live their life as it was? And did they really accept all these quest in hopes to actually help the people being troubled or where they simply hoping… Were they hoping that something would finally put them down? It was a soft clearing of a throat did Ito bring themselves out of whatever spiral they were doing down. While it was quiet to their horns it seemed the figure was gesturing towards them for a second now if their eyes could tell them anything. Which… Wasn’t much really. Not when the figure sitting to their left was wearing clothes that basically covered every inch of skin the man had. “Are thee well friend? It hath come to mine own attention thee has paced a number of times past.” Ito’s eyes now snapped to his eyes, or well... Where they thought his eye would be with the goggles protecting his steady gaze from them. He was huddled among an ever growing pile of books, holding one in hand while the other held a wonderful smelling tea. He honestly could have been a statue in these books for how well Ito noticed them, quite still even as Ito blankly stared at them as if frozen. It was with a crooked brow, a sip of tea echoing in the silence, and an unanswered question did Ito finally snap out of whatever reprieve that held them still. “Oh… uh…” Elegant Ito really.

[mariamariquinha]

Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Thirteen (Part 1)

(I don’t know if I’ve already used this gif... sorry :/)

Summary: Decisions were made.

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Bad words, violence, ~ daddy issues ~, mentions of brothels and prostitution, slight mentions of political conditions from the period, trauma, nightmares and people drinking alcohol 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: And yeah, I needed to split in two parts. There’s no huge cliffhanger here because I know how slow I can be while writing, so let’s just say that this is a... prelude.

I mentioned that before, but now it’s more than official. This story have 2/3 chapters left, which makes me sad-happy-satisfied-unsure. Let’s see where it goes from then on, huh? Love ya! 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

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

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

There was this boy with green eyes and good grades at school. He used to like History and Sociology, but everyone knew he had a tendency for something more than teaching. Without a mother, though, no one would be surprised if he turned into one of them.

Since his childhood, ‘them’ became a fear. ‘Them’ became easy money but almost a vow to a cause - the parents used to keep the kids at home after 10pm, turn off the TV when the news were too desperate or visceral. He might’ve even met Virginia Vallejo during his college years, after all the communist mess, and recognized her when Pablo turned into a thing. She was there. Always had been. Sometimes he wondered if her name would be marked on books like those he liked to read in school for choosing a side.

If he was an adult during the communism time, he would be one of them. His abuela talked about this a lot, but never in a depreciative tone. She knew better than to be on the side of the ones who took a lot from her. Because of this, everytime someone asked about Escobar or the gringos around the country, he never had an answer - because Pablo wasn’t a communist, but the other side wasn’t good either.

His abuela passed the year before; cancer. Being a doctor, he felt bad for not being able to help, for not doing enough to give her more time. There was nothing left.

That night, he did an exception to watch the TV. It wasn’t Virginia Vallejo nor any other journalist there. It was him. And he was angry because it was him. Him, with all the pomp and style and the face of someone he could recognize in the mirror, using such big words like ‘peace’ and ‘justice’ as if he knew a thing about honorable feelings or true promises.

At the end of three days in retreat, with resentment bubbling up inside him, he was in the supermarket when he saw her for the first time. Any detail that might have crossed his imagination didn't do this woman justice; he only knew her by a small fraction of guesswork and, in the end, by genetic bliss, she looked nothing like him. But he knew it was her. He fucking knew.

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

The decision came in a thoughtful, perhaps even calculated way. On the way, he had attended Comuna 1 and heard someone say that some time before, some American agents had passed by there and one of them almost died. A woman, strong enough to take the brunt, someone who became an exception - with all the lukewarm hope that existed during the days after that meeting in the supermarket, he felt afraid that she would become a target and lose everything again.

There, as he walked out with the lab coat and a suitcase of equipment, he looked up to see the armed kids on the rooftops, wielding weapons longer than their arms and staring blankly. He remembered his mother, when he found her after a long time in a corner of a border bordeaux to the point of overdose, and how he had left her so far away from himself as a way of forgetting that disturbing image.

He saw Escobar's painting on the wall. He saw the children again.

The letter would reach her in less than a day.

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

“You really are different from your father.”

The comment made you roll your eyes, but for some reason you didn’t engage in her provocation. Rejecting the cup of coffee was more of a personal preference than any judgemental decision - you already had the privilege of being able to talk with Noonan without so much bureaucracy.

Still, she didn’t take offense to the declination. She smiled, sat comfortably on her seat.

“I like to keep it all professional.”

“Doesn't the environment seem professional?”

“The office? Oh no, the office is really fine,” You nod your head, making a show of crossing your legs and faking interest. “I don’t want to elaborate and take more of your time but… The decoration is… neat.”

“Thank you.”

When she openly invited you to come by, you knew why. Perhaps dinner happened. A comment. She was informed about Juan Marcos, in that sarcastic voice your father had. Perhaps Noonan needed to be sure. You weren’t like him, of course, and certain things needed to be contained even if you knew the metrics and weren't childish enough to mourn so much about the systematics. What you could tell, for sure, was that your father always sold you low, so she decided to make her own assumptions.

“... Thinking about the politics of it all-”

“I’m not into it.”

“Diplomacy?”

“Yeah, those… big words you use sometimes. I’m an agent. It’s basically my job to be at least 60% dumb for that stuff.”

Noonan smiled at your sarcastic tone, watching the way you just kept that neutral expression with a voice full of venom. It was risky, but she wouldn’t go too far.

“I just need to be sure we’re on the same page. I’ve seen your last report and it honestly worried me.”

“It wasn’t my intention.”

Perhaps the words ‘sabotage’ and ‘murder’ were the ones way too big for someone like Noonan or the fucking government of United States of America, but you still couldn’t get the need of such inconvenience because of one report from one agent. Everyone knew the operation and you had the obvious perception that the USA agenda didn’t include explaining methods of persuasion during these types of… conflicts.

“What we are doing here, this… job by all means, it’s something delicate. We have a lot in the game, suddenly because there’s this inconvenience and we can’t get rid of it.”

You kept quiet. The lack of reaction made her blink a few times in expectation, then sigh in defeat as if you needed to say something.

“I think you should understand that this isn’t just a question of who should do what. We need to win. And to win, we need a firm team, one that can deal with everything with resilience.”

That was the first time you felt threatened by any of them. Your differences with Carrillo, the target you all had behind your backs, the situation with Juan Marcos… It all could take your job, but it didn’t. That moment, when Noonan got back to her professional stance (the one she liked to use with Peña more often than not), you felt the shiver of having someone stabbing you on the back.

And to know that this person was your father just made you more aware of your tense nerves.

So you did something worse.

You played the game.

With a subtle movement, you caught the cup of coffee between your fingers and took a small sip.

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

You felt suffocated. Disgusted. You got this bothering itch from the insides, like a weed that wouldn’t leave your skin. Between leaving the building and going back to Medellín, you tried to pull the nicotine patch out of your arm at least five or six times. It didn’t work, though. And you knew you would feel bad if you tried to pull the thing off again, so you decided to stay as still as possible.

Which wasn’t much.

And as the days passed, as the raids went on and things kept happening at full speed, you started to feel harsh, difficult to deal with. You tried to bury that conversation as much as you could, but with every body found, every lead to take one more person down, you couldn’t react anymore.

When your mother called, you told her - she deserved to know because she would understand you. Then she sighed, probably scratched the back of her neck, and said something that made you warm and cold all together.

“Good thing you’re not like him or me. You’re a third thing.” She commented. “God knows that if I was in your place, I would have made his life hell and I wouldn’t regret it.”

Your sleep schedule became worse. Almost every night, you saw Juan Marcos dead, then him coming at you ready to take your life, then that Montoya boy and the expression of fear on his face. Sometimes, it was Pablo. The bodies on that grave. Images of Peña, Steve and… Fuck, and Carrillo… All of them died. You would wake up crying. In the morning, you would sigh in relief to see all of them there, in one piece, alive.

But when it was your father, there wasn’t much to see.

That was something you’d never told her. That if you ever pictured your father being a fatality, you couldn’t have a proper reaction.

You woke up with a gasp, seated on the bed and sweating. The curtains hid nothing of the light coming from the outside, with a freezing breeze coming from it. You noticed, then, that what woke you physically was the sound of festive crackles from the street. There were laughs, kids giggling - it didn't take long for someone to scream at them and the noises ceased.

You still had your jeans on, unbuttoned and gripping your legs. That made you groan, passing your fingers through your hair and rubbing your eyes in frustration. On the clock, four in the fucking morning. You knew you wouldn’t sleep after this.

Defeated, you got up from the bed and made a beeline to the kitchen, where you grabbed a jar of water. Hands shaking, you didn’t dare to have your way with a cup - you drank right from the fucking jar. Then you gulped, gulped, gulped… Until it burned your throat and lungs. Until you coughed because some of the liquid spilled over your nose and chest, almost drowning you.

The floor was wet. From the water or your spit, you couldn’t tell, perhaps both. You didn’t know why you stared at it for so long, but that was it: you in the middle of your kitchen watching the water spot wetting your feet.

Your hands were still shaking.

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

You felt the ground first - the stiffness of the floor, the dirt from the road, the burning sensation from abrupt contact.

In the end, when they took you to the hospital, there wasn’t much to see. You left with a bruise on your forehead, another on your cheek, then some on the body and the shame of having been hurt by falling from a roof. At least with Juan Marcos you had the thrill of a good hand-to-hand combat story.

How stupid of you, having made a mistake and found the concrete alone, out of pure distraction.

Carrillo sent you small glances during the whole process - always checking, always aware of his surroundings. He didn’t come closer, though. He didn’t even ask. You felt stupid again, because you wanted him to have a reaction, at least one with just enough warmth as the first time you got injured.

“You know-”

“No, I don’t know. And for the sake of my job, I would rather not know.”

You didn’t raise your eyes from the letters and envelopes in your hands to give your father the satisfaction of a glance. He was there, standing in front of your desk, both hands inside his pants pockets and probably a smirk on his face. Again, you didn’t try a chance to look at him more than at his pristine shoes.

A letter from your mother. You could read at home.

“I think you have a dead wish.”

“Got this job, what can I say?”

FBI Report 1 on Cartel Activities in the States. You dropped the others on the desk to open this one, noticing how he started to look around the office nonchalantly. While he was distracted, you did give him a single side eye before going back to the paper.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Back to business.

A call-up from Messina. She could’ve just asked for her secretary to call and…

“Noonan told me you two talked.”

“Mm.”

“Using your privileges?”

“Well, it could be a privilege if I was the president’s daughter. You’re just a friend who might’ve fucked her once.”

Jorge Pérez. You frowned at that one, raising it closer to your face to get a better look on the handwriting. With a high level of importance, it said. Jorge…

“Since you’re good to use that smart mouth of yours,” The sudden proximity made you jump, but before you could react, he took the envelope from your hands, threw it on the desk and grabbed your arm harshly. “We better talk like in the old times.”

And it still hurted, the arm and the whole left side of your body. It hurted because you fucking fell from that fucking roof and he knew that, but since he was on the ‘old times’ side, there wasn’t a single care on his features or an hesitance to do worst with you. He was mad. From the grip he had on your arm, a touch violent.

When your body was pressed against your desk with force (because he pushed you), you hid your hiss of pain for the sake of raising your guard. You couldn’t do that during the old times, which was something he noticed - perhaps. There wasn’t the height difference, you weren’t looking at him from below and he wasn’t staring down at you even if he tried to. Eye to eye, with more than a scary face to stare back at him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asked through gritted teeth, close enough to make himself heard without raising his voice.

“... You need to be more specific.”

“You fucking know exactly what I’m talking about, girl, you better be careful with your next choice of words.”

“Or what? You’re gonna ground me?” The teasing made him take a deep and warning breath. “I could use some days without going out with my friends, you know?”

“I was cleaning the mess of this stupid country before you could even clean your shit dirty ass, so you better know what you’re getting here,” He pressed, getting even closer to put a finger on your face. “Think you can be that person? To play dirty behind my back and thinking I wouldn’t know?”

“Was trying my best to be like you.”

He didn’t answer. You licked your lips, nodded. The guy was fucking desperate and taken aback.

You smiled.

“What? She took your toys away?” Again, silence. “I bet she said you’re here like a second chance. I even risk saying that the big guys needed a dog to do the dirty work and keep all the blame. You’re good at it, aren’t you? Being incompetent but leaving that good trail of blood behind your back? Doing that shit they’ll all deny or say it was a ‘collateral effect’?”

And then you said something you didn’t dare to comment on for years. Years.

“Or fucking whores around the country and having bastard kids with them?”

He reacted to that - of course he would. In the blink of an eye, he grabbed your jaw and pressed his fingers on the meat of your face, growling at the implication of such a harsh truth.

“You don’t want to do that…” A threat. “Being my daughter or not, I can fucking destroy your career piece by piece and take any remote chance of you to have a reputation, enough to make you spend the rest of your life cleaning bathrooms for a meal. Do you hear me?”

This time, you didn’t answer. He took that as indifference.

“I’ll do better. I’ll take Peña away, because I can do that. Perhaps they’ll like to know about Los Pepes and all of the other shit your partner is involved in. Maybe even Carrillo can go back to Madrid or whatever the fuck they decided to, since you’d been grown so fond of him recently.”

You couldn’t hide your surprise at the sudden revelation, which brought a devious smile on that face. His fingers flexed against your jaw and when you made the mistake of holding his wrist to stop the touch, he saw all the confirmation he needed to know, if he really needed one.

“Honestly, it took me a while to notice. But there’s the thing with him, maybe he thinks you’re worth the waste of time. You always proved yourself to be a very good warm hole for men in general, maybe that’s your best feature.”

Just then, after saying what probably had been stuck on his throat, he distanced himself. You didn’t move a finger to massage the area, watching him take a handkerchief from inside his pocket and wiping his fingers as if you had somehow soiled him.

“I killed Juan Marcos for you. I did it. You can just imagine my surprise to know that my own daughter, the one I killed for, decided to fight against me…” He said it without looking at you, still brushing his stupid fingers. “But I’ll take it, you know? You’re emotional like your mother and it disappointed me a lot.”

When he raised his eyes to you again, he measured your stance, the way your fists were clenched and your breathing intense. If you could, you would kill him right there, would… Fuck, you would make him swallow all of that humiliation. The rage was bubbling in your insides, ready to snap against him in a second.

Perhaps he expected you to. He wanted that excuse. And when you gave him nothing, he scoffed, putting his hands inside the pockets again and he sighed.

“Look at the bright side of things, sweetheart, we can have some similarities. These people, these… latinos… They can have you by the neck, anyone would fall for it and you wouldn’t be different. This we have in common. Just don’t be stupid enough to get pregnant or whatever, they don’t pay much for these guys around here.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe until he left the room, unsure if what that could do to your sanity such was the tension and hatred he has instilled in you. When he did leave, not giving you a single glance back, the same clenched fists were raised to your eyes where you brushed them in hopes to prevent any tears from spilling out. Your heart was beating so fast, so incessantly, that you didn’t move a finger until you could collect yourself.

It was too overwhelming, too much, too much, too much…

You crouched down on the desk, hidden from whoever might be there so early in the day, and put your palms against your mouth. Eyes tightly closed, you stifled a sob as you felt the wetness of tears between your fingers. Any curse word that was on the tip of his tongue, any… unbridled urge to retort, it was all stuck inside your mind and in no time, during that breakdown, you thought the response would be as passive as your reaction.

But you were passive.

More than that, you let yourself be carried away by resentment and anger, thinking that you would be superior if you just kept quiet.

He did it, you thought. The asshole broke you.

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

One of the things about Carrillo was that he always made himself… present. After a considerable amount of time under him, on top of him or close enough to him, you could recognize scents, things intrinsic to what he was and wore and did and knew how to be.

You were virtually dating an almost full glass of lemon vodka when you smelled the perfume. At first, you thought it was some kind of hallucination, like your abused and lost mind trying to find traces of comfort (even if lying, even if cruel or momentary) to keep you going. After all this time, it was an automatic escape mechanism - if you were more politicized about it, you'd have a box of pills by your bed instead of your badge and your gun.

Just after a moment, when you felt someone sitting beside you and you could see his wrist watch there, your body reacted. You didn’t know if it was for resentment or just all the shit you’d been through with your father, but for a moment you wanted to avoid everyone - including him. Especially him.

Which was a fucking hypocrisy, given the place you were at.

“Did your father talk to you?”

And he didn’t ask in a inquisitive tone, like he was demanding for you to say the truth, but you felt taken aback by the neutral curiosity that filled his question and was splayed all over his face. With your silence, Horacio raised his eyebrows and got a good look at your confused expression.

“I heard he's been speculating about your physical state since the incident earlier today.”

“Just him?”

He tilted his head to the side, hiding a small smile.

“We all know you’re tough,” A shrug. “But I’m happy to know that you came back in one piece.”

“Happy is a big word, don’t you think?” You frowned, taking a sip on your drink while watching him raise a hand to the bartender.

“What would you rather me say?”

“Relieved.”

“That was quite fast.”

“I'm just saying I saved you a lot of red tape and paperwork.”

“What you're telling me is that your conversation with your father was much more intense than I thought.”

It made you lose what little humor you had left, enough for your face to visibly stiffen at the insinuation. Still, Carrillo was unaffected, but understood that maybe it wasn't the time. Rather than speculating further, he settled back on the stool when the whiskey arrived in front of him on the counter and didn't look at you for a while, as if he was just there to keep you company. This breath gave you time to observe him calmly.

He wasn't in uniform, but you doubted he'd just left the house to be right there, judging by the obvious sweat and dull expression. From what you heard, he's been in negotiation meetings with other minor sicarios who've been arrested, probably even Los Pepes if you pushed hard enough, but that was the kind of context you really liked to stay out of.

He certainly wasn't satisfied; sure enough, for one plus one, Carrillo was just frustrated by the way things had turned out and he could suddenly use alcohol. It was an ordinary bar, you were there when you decided to have good sex that would become delicately complicated. The difference was that there was less wear and tear, less fatigue. You two certainly weren't fresh for the job anymore.

And even so, Horacio continued to have this brusque, striking and not very delicate beauty. Unlike Javier or Steve, he hasn't lost any weight, and perhaps made good use of homemade meals to gain a little more physical mass. A very discreet bulge poked out on his belly, but that only meant he was healthy.

There was a soft smirk on his face, almost imperceptible, when you raised your eyes - he caught you staring. You noticed, of course, because you still were stupid enough to keep notes on him. It was inevitable, the way you and him stared at each other. Lights low, soft music, a ton of feelings all over the place - you couldn’t ride any other way.

“... Why are you here?” The question came in a low tone, breaking that spell for a moment. You blinked a few times, self aware of your body language, and gestured with the cup.

“Different motives, similar interests, I guess.”

“How do you know my motives?”

“Consider this my intuition.”

He nodded, not defeated but understanding. A silence hung in the air, more comfortable and cozy; it was easy to be more abrupt in your next comment, like a revelation suddenly caught in your throat by an instant memory of what had happened earlier that day.

“Did you know?” Like a spilled thought, you asked as if he would know what you were referring to. When nothing but a frown appeared on his face, you clarified with simplicity. “That we fucked. You knew my father knew about it?”

You could expect a lot of things, because Carrillo was very intuitive and certainly wouldn't run away from a confrontation if that were the case, just like your father wouldn't either. So when he looked even more confused and taken aback by the question, you reconsidered your position for a moment and turned your eyes to the drink in your hands, not knowing what to say next.

Horacio shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

“What did he tell you?” He asked then, more inquisitive this time.

“Nothing I didn’t deal with before. It's just… Sounded like something he could have guessed, like it was simple. I don’t remember a moment where we showed we were explicitly involved. Like the way we were, I mean.”

Casting a glance in his direction, you saw his jaw clench, then his face averting your gaze. Carrillo looked… angry?

“You know I don't have any hierarchical ties with him, right?”

“I do.”

“So why don't you tell me exactly what he told you?”

“Because it's complicated!” You bit back with exasperation. “Look, there was a reason why I’ve been so reticent about him being here. It’s not just his past or whatever the fuck he did here, we didn’t talk for years! Years, Horacio. And there’s a reason why it happened and it’s nothing like you can simply do something about. Honestly, I think it would be better if you didn't get involved.”

“It doesn't make any difference now.”

“Yes! I-” You stopped your own rambling and took a deep breath. “I know it. That’s the fucking problem.”

More silence. That made you aware of your tone, your mood, the way you’d been holding your shit together in such a pathetic way.

“I’m tired,” Your fingers massaged the bridge of your nose, elbow on the counter and a defeated sigh falling from your lips. “Don’t tell this to anyone, tho. I would like to finish my fucking job without people feeling pity of me.”

“But you’re telling me.”

“... Yeah. Well, last time you decided to pick my pieces we ended up making out. It’s better than whatever Peña would have in the cards for me.”

He smiled - no, you would rather say he just scoffed and took a long sip of his drink, as if it was the closest you could get in a good mood.

“Peña.” Carrillo repeated, head shaking. “What would he offer to you? Mm?”

The question made you frown but, again, you weren’t in the mood to read between the lines and he probably didn’t want to make his intentions a secret. There was a hint of jealousy there, a resentment.

“You know we don’t-”

“I know.”

You hummed, eyeing the drink in front of you to consider the situation. That could make you smile a little, even for a second, knowing that Carrillo couldn’t hide the stupidness of it all.

“... It would be less complicated,” The confession was uncomfortable, too realistic, enough to make you embarrassed. “Sounds like a convenient statement, in fact. Peña doesn’t have an accent, he doesn't have both feet and heart in this country either.”

He considered.

“Am I not American enough for him?” Carrillo asked with a discreet frown.

“Nn-nn.”

“Gracias a Dios.” Thank God, he murmured against his cup, which almost brought another considerate smile to your lips.

“I tend to be controversial, it gets me into trouble occasionally,” Your hand unconsciously massaged your chin, as if sensing other fingers pressing the skin there. It brought a lot of discomfort - enough to make you clear your throat to prevent any intrusive memory.

But that was the crux of the matter, what put you on your toes about Horacio Carrillo in the first place: he was so observant. And he noticed the way you caressed that area for a nanosecond too long, which made him shift in his seat to get closer, just a little longer, just to get a better look in the dim light.

First it was his fingers gripping your jaw, bringing your face up to his watchful gaze. Then, carefully, those same fingers descended on your skin, on the sensitive part, and you didn't hesitate to hiss in slight pain. When you averted the touch with a tilt of your head, looking around suspiciously, he became stern - serious. Mad.

“All this secrecy, this… Fear that people would find out about us. Now it all seems truly in vain.”

“It was the best for everyone. If Noonan or Messina find out, I-”

“They weren't there when he touched you.”

“We both know it doesn't matter here. Not with people like us.”

“Offenders?”

“Disposable.” You took his hand on yours, taking his touch away even if not in a harsh way. He was still mad, you could sense, but it was like Carrillo turned into a preoccupied mess.

“... If he ever touches you again, you will tell me.” An order, one you resisted the urge to roll your eyes for. “That's what a disposable person does, isn't it? A good one-on-one with a gringo would do justice to the title.”

That made you smile - truly smile. At the genuine tone, at the perseverance of his intentions. A surprisingly astute man with wills that went beyond the position he had and he was there, cutting the caress of your body for the discreet touch of your hand, watching your reactions with such attention.

You observed him in silence, elbow on the counter, hand supporting your head while taking the guy in. He was so stunning, you couldn’t quite catch which detail of his physiognomy you liked best. And there were other attributes on him, like his body and capacity, but maybe… The mouth? Chin? Cheeks? Brows? Hair? Eyes?

Looking in retrospect, it made some sense. The attraction, the bickering. Carrillo was made like that, built to be exactly the way he was, ready to accept the fate of his messy world with strong hands and the perseverance of someone who always tried hard enough until he didn’t need it anymore.

“You know what I need right now?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve been through hell since I woke up, my body is tired and… I need a shower. A good, warm shower, yeah? And then a decent night's sleep, which I haven't had in weeks.”

There was another beat of silent consideration from him, a peaceful and relaxed one.

“... I have a warm shower.” His voice came in a teasing tone.

“You do?”

“Mm-hm.”

You bit your lip, mouth hidden behind your fingers.

“Okay.”

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

His house seemed more receptive, perhaps because of the circumstances or your condition. You looked around the place that remained the same, with different furniture here or there, something that reminded you of someone passing by to clean or organize. Juliana, maybe.

The thought made you frown, even if that detail (or that piece of memory) didn’t make the place look less… homemade. You were unsure, however. Even if some part of you knew what you should be doing now while Horacio made sure all the windows and doors were still locked, you couldn’t move from your spot in the middle of the living room, arms hanging on your sides while you felt lost, even a touch numb.

“Hey.”

Carrillo was standing in front of you, searching for you even if you were there, not so focused, not deciding if he should get closer or not. You blinked a few times, suddenly aware of your recent marks and physical pains. He didn’t try to poke through it, tho - he gave you his hand, palm open to your eyes.

That touch meant more, like the first deep breath of fresh air.

There were the stairs, then the corridor. You prevented yourself from saying out loud about your legs or feet; a few grunts followed the way, but he decided not to comment as well. Horacio just kept going, assured the steps of someone who knew the place well. When you reached the room (his bedroom), there wasn’t time to observe the details of that place you knew from the past experience, because he took you to the other door, one you didn’t notice at first.

The bathroom was considerably huge, made for two and with some space for more. Wife, perhaps kids. You also tried not to imagine this life, this possibility that seemed real for him before you and probably before Escobar. Standing still, your mind tried to make you feel more pathetic when you didn’t move to undress, but again, Carrillo didn’t ask.

He opened button by button, careful with his moves and the fabric of your shirt, which wasn’t so clean and had seen better days. You observed his movements, stoic and precise as always, and when the shirt was finally off, he stopped. Of course you were aware of the bruises, the not-so-sexy bra and even less sexier shape of your boobs.

No, that wasn’t the reason why he stopped. You knew it wasn’t. And you felt so embarrassed all of the sudden.

“No, no-” His hand covered yours before you could hide something. “Puede que no seamos los mismos de antes, pero tú sigues siendo tú. Y lo quiero todo de todos modos.” We may not be the same as before, but you are still you. And I want it all anyway.

“... It's not what I look like that worries me,” You said. “It just seems unfair that every time we're together, there's some shadow of what we do. I don't want you to look at me and think about it.”

“But it's what we do.”

“And are you by any chance proud of every part of this?”

“Huh,” He scoffed, but not in mockery, tilting his head to the side and going back to his small mission, this time going to your belt. “Sería estúpido no arrepentirse de algunas cosas en el camino, ¿no crees?” It would be stupid not to regret some things along the way, don't you think?

“¿Siempre cambias al español cuando hablas de cosas difíciles?” Do you always switch to Spanish when talking about difficult things?

“Recuerdo haber dicho que me gustabas en inglés.” I remember saying I liked you in English.

And he did stop again, your belt and the button of your jeans opened. Carrillo did that to look at your face, observe any reaction from you, and all you could give back was the same taken aback expression you had earlier that night. Saying it in front of you, like that, mentioning that he simply liked you… It still sounded easier, but it also sounded safe.

“... Will it be a lonely bath? Or do you intend to accompany me?”

He tilted his head to the side again, shrugged, then decided to go back to his work with your pants.

“I’m not fragile, you know?” You said in a low tone.

“What I know is that there’s too many people aware of that information.” Carrillo didn’t look at you, but honestly it wasn’t necessary. He said what he said, so you wouldn’t try to bite back.

The silence, though, made him frown and finally raise his eyes to you. Just then, with his attention and heavy gaze, you noticed your own eyes were wet. You blinked a few times, shook your head. For some reason, or maybe for obvious ones, there was a big cloud of resentment surrounding you two all of the sudden - of bad decisions or just a touch of cowardness from your part. Horacio was hot headed, sometimes too impulsive for his own good; your father, quite the opposite, patiently waiting for the right opportunity to make what he thought was best.

“... I’ll take the guest bathroom. There’s probably something you can borrow from my wardrobe too.”

“Okay.”

“If you need anything-”

“Mm-hm. I know.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your temple - right above the bandage still hanging for dear life there. Took you a lot to move from there, to shake the warm touches from your body and mind, and a few minutes after he left, you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands to keep any emotions from spilling over and finished taking off your clothes.

The water was hot, but not hot enough to be uncomfortable. You felt each drop washing your pores as if it were taking away pieces of your skin, as if all the dirt of the day had not been washed away enough even though this was your second shower of the day.

The skin on your jaw was irritated by how hard you rubbed it, trying to get something out that might not be coming off any time soon.

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

“... He said something.”

Carrillo raised his eyes from the small patterns he was tracing on your skin with his finger, observing you with curiosity. He had these comfy pants, the flip-flops laying on the floor, the basic shirt - it was like entering another world, seeing someone else instead of… him. But it was him, indeed. Domestic him. And after the dinner (the one he promised a lifetime before), he took you to his bed and made more compliments about you wearing one of his shirts.

Honestly, you didn’t want to bring it at that moment. You didn’t even want to make this a conversation with him, to remember whatever happened that led to that specific space of time where you found comfort in his arms, but that thing entered your mind like a plague and you couldn’t shake it out of your mind.

“‘Said he killed Juan Marcos for me.”

He didn’t react - not for the first few seconds. In the middle of that half-dark, warm room, with you two between his comfy sheets, Horacio let the information sink in, averting your gaze to watch his movements on the skin peaking through the collar of that old shirt. For a moment you even thought he wouldn’t say anything; for what felt like ages, Horacio Carrillo didn’t move.

You stared at the ceiling, then, that thought burning your insides like a fucking infection. That made you press, just a little, just to… feel something.

“Would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Kill for anyone.”

Carrillo sighed.

“I’ve been doing that for a living,” He argumented. “But that’s not the question, right?”

“No,” You shook your head. “I wouldn’t ask you to, though. Nor Javi or Steve or… him.”

“Well, I think we all know that too,” With a grunt, he adjusted his body to eye you from above, leaning on his elbow. “Killing in someone's name can be a lot if we weren't who we are, at least. In this kind of life, this is just a consequence or a detail that bumps into our routine.”

His words made you consider.

“Sicarios kill for loyalty and money, we kill for a solution... A father kills for his daughter for love and protection.” You pointed out, more like a reflection than a proper opinion. When you looked at him again, he waited for that conclusion with patience. “He didn't want to protect me, Horacio. He never did this, why would he do it now? To get some kind of leverage when he found out I put Noonan against him?”

“What?”

The realization on his face made you feel ashamed, as if all the days you've been beating yourself up about it materialized right there, in front of you, in the form of the disappointment that would stamp his face when he owned up to what you'd done. You waited, waited, waited… And when nothing came, you distanced yourself physically by sitting up on the bed, fingers playing with itselves while he just kept staring.

With a deep breath and a lot to say, you confirmed.

“She was always my father's friend, probably since I can remember. When she called me into a meeting, I figured he might have said something to arouse suspicion, to make her suspicious of my ability to do my job. I knew he was planting something there, waiting for the right chance to take me out of the picture. Not for protection, just… Perhaps he saw me as a problem, perhaps I am a problem.”

Carrillo listened with a neutral expression, which started to make you feel even more tense.

“I struggled a lot to do that, to have the least amount of respect without being in his shadow. Every day, in every single thing I've done since I chose this career, I've always been sure I wanted to be better than him. Realizing that he throws every shovel possible into our relationship has me panicking, especially since he's my father and he's trying to sabotage me for his own benefit.”

It's been a long time since you've done this - venting your frustrations. For some reason, you knew Carrillo wouldn't do anything with that information, at least nothing other than keeping it to himself. Being there with him, in that private universe, you were free to get it all out there, to expose an unspoken truth of hardship and cruelty. Of course, given the circumstances, that comfort would just be another unspoken truth between the two of you. A secret magnetism that made sense, as long as it wasn't said to the four winds, because you were never exceptionally good at it and it was evident.

You sighed in defeat, unsure of what that silence meant - condescendence, weighting, reticence. There was a vision of you before your confession and there was certainly another after it - it wasn't like you could justify yourself.

All that considered, it was a surprise when he reached over and kissed your cheek, subtly, just to get your attention. When you looked up, Horacio cupped your face in one hand and looked into your eyes, using the gentlest of caresses to gaze at you with a certain amount of admiration and affection. You probably had that same expression at the moment, because he couldn’t stop staring.

“I couldn’t judge him if his intentions were true,” He mumbled. “But mine are. Sometimes, my respect can blind me and I can be… obnoxious towards my feelings for you, almost… dumb. Perhaps. Perhaps you don’t even want to know that now, being here and going through this, but I would kill for you. Viviría por ti.”

I would live for you.

You looked into his eyes and felt a courage you only felt at the sight of a gun, or the sight of your father's eyes. It wasn't usual, it felt very uncomfortable, but accept the reality that he only considered it all a passing fever of passion rather than something that really had consistency.

There was no consistency in that life, nor in the fact that you met, crossed paths and exchanged a single word to each other - because no minimally consistent relationship could come from that reality.

“This can’t be,” You said, holding his hand with your palm. “You can’t do this to me, Horacio.”

“You didn't have that right either. Don't believe for a second I didn't think this was all crazy, all... una gran mierda,” His last words came as a whisper, as if he just confessed something serious enough to make him grab all of the circumstances inside his head.

Carrillo sighed.

“Juliana had never confronted me this way, she had never told me what she felt with such certainty. I spent a lot of time blaming her for this, but the truth is, being with me hurts. I'm a ticking time bomb, a static creature that lives by rules that I don't always believe in but that make me who I am. I'm a big bunch of beliefs that don't take me anywhere.”

“... But I did.”

He let the silence linger, your other hand passing through his face while he nodded.

“Yeah,” You could see, deep down, that he was on the verge of crying. Carrillo. Crying. Suddenly, he was that boy, pristine and full of feelings he couldn’t spill out for the sake of being well-behaved, of not building any more problems for his mama.

You never thought you'd witness it - or find sense in a man like that looking so torn apart for so long.

“And I honestly don't know what to make of it all.”

Ultimately, you realized as you took the initiative to give him a subtle kiss on the mouth, discreet enough to hear him sigh in relief, that it felt right because Carrillo lived in absolutes. Life or death. Right or wrong. To shoot or not to shoot. There was a weight there, a responsibility; all of a sudden, if you could, you'd take it all away from him because you… you needed it. From him? From his company? Of the feelings he caused? You couldn't tell, even while kissing him.

What you could say, for sure, was that a mess encounter led you to a difficult realization: that you loved him.

And you were afraid of it.

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

Next part’s snippet:

“What?”

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

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

“... It’s… It’s Jorge.”

“And who is it?”

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

“My brother.”

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

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