#too much basil cause I’m not used to fresh? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peppermintbee · 4 years ago

Text

OMORI has poor writing (Part 1)

OMORI stans, just block the #omori hate tag now because I’m going to use it to vent my frustrations with this game. If you love this game, I am not going to try to convince you otherwise. I am glad you enjoyed it so much. I am glad it means a lot to you. I’m not here to take that away from you. I honestly wish I felt the same way!

However, if you are like me and finished the game feeling disappointed, underwhelmed, and maybe a little frustrated, then I am here to say you are not alone. OMORI--while having the right set pieces for an interesting game--is a narrative mess.

I’m splitting this into two posts. This first post is about problems with the plot. The second is about problems with the message/moral.

(Note: I use “OMORI” in all-caps for the game title, and “Omori” in title case for the character name.)

Spoilers and criticism below.

Part 1: Plot Writing Lies

There’s a book by Brian McDonald called Invisible Ink which is about how to write a compelling story (you can read this great book online for free here). There’s an explanation of the writing “lie” that I find myself frequently thinking of. A “lie” in this context does not mean something is literally untrue, it means something FEELS untrue, unrealistic, improbable, or unlikely. For example, if a character gets shot in the leg but manages to do parkour, this is a “lie” since it seems unrealistic for that to happen. If a character witnesses their beloved parent’s death and shrugs it off, it’s a “lie” because that reaction seems highly unlikely.

In OMORI, the plot is held together by multiple little lies that--try as I might--I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

1. Sunny’s friends care about him, and vice versa

A major theme of the game is how friendship can overcome any obstacle. Friendship gets Sunny over his fear of heights, spiders, and water. Friendship is what Sunny remembers before the final boss fight, and allows him to face his guilt and defeat it (and prevent him from committing suicide). With the photobook and dialogue you are reminded over and over and over and over and over again that Sunny’s friends love him unconditionally.

However, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The childhood memories are cute but shallow, boiling down to simply hanging out and eating treats. Plus, Kel and Aubrey fight constantly, with Aubrey even physically hitting Kel when he steps out of line. Hero and Mari behave more like babysitters than true friends to the younger kids.

But at least the other kids interact with each other. Sunny, on the other hand, showed nearly no affection or consideration towards his friends. He floats through the memories like a ghost--he could have been completely absent from all the photos and it would have made little difference. I was ready to accept this as Sunny being an unreliable narrator and not thinking he was a good enough for his friends, but this never contradicted. Instead we are given even more memories where Sunny just silently exists there being “cute.”

[Sunny enriching the lives of his friends by LARPING as a cat.]

Because of the lack of meaningful interactions between them, there was nothing in the game that made me think that these 12-15 year olds would have a strong enough bond that would survive 3-4 years of no contact after finding their friend hanged. In fact, that discovery only drove them farther apart. The only person who I could believe actually had a close bond was Basil, who almost literally filled that trope of being the friend who would help you bury a body (or in this case, help Sunny cover up the accidental manslaughter).

The writing fix for this would be simple: instead of showing us the same boring birthday and beach scenes over again, give the kids memories of overcoming some age-appropriate adversity together: heartbreak over an unrequited crush, anxiety over homework, sports injury, lost dogs, divorced parents, running away from home, bullying, etc. Set a precedent of the friends supporting each other through good times AND bad times. Without such backstory, Sunny’s friendships allegedly giving him the courage to overcome his guilt feels like a lie.

2. Sunny abandoning Basil in the bathroom scene

One of the most confusing moments in the game was Sunny’s negligence when Basil has his first breakdown in his bathroom. This part of the game is player-controlled, which is a strange writing decision because all you can do is click on Basil and various bathroom amenities over and over which completely saps the urgency out of the scene. When you try to leave, Basil begs Sunny to stay, but (due to a lack of player options) Sunny walks out without a word. With no option to talk to him OR get help for him, it makes Sunny seem exceptionally cruel to Basil. In fact, I was starting to wonder if the game was setting up for some sort of twist that Sunny DIDN’T care about his friends, which would fix some of the confusion in point #1. However, as we know, that is not the case. Therefore, Sunny’s negligence/apathy towards Basil’s pain feels like a lie.

The writing fix would be to make it MORE clear that Sunny is intentionally running away from Basil. Make it a cutscene, or, give a false choice such as “Leave Basil? Yes / Yes”. After Sunny leaves, Kel should make some remark about Sunny looking odd, “You look sort of shaken up, is there something you want to tell me?” then hit it home with Sunny shaking his head. This would make it more clear that Sunny is intentionally hiding Basil’s state, as opposed to just being a bad friend. As it stands, it just felt like a writing mistake.

3. Basil and Sunny working together to stage Mari’s death as a suicide

This is the plot hole that I see the most complaints over, but it’s so big I have to address it. Accidentally pushing Mari down the stairs I understand, but the rest is too absurd. Below are some of the “lies” that the writing tries to get away with:

That Sunny and Basil wouldn’t just claim she slipped and fell.

That either boy would even come up with this sick plan.

That they wouldn’t back out of this idea during the multi-step process (carrying her downstairs, outside, getting the jump rope, tying a noose, putting it around her neck, stringing her up, hiding the evidence... This is a series of multiple decisions, not one quick accident like the initial push.)

That it’s not the image of Mari’s death that traumatized Sunny, but the image of what they chose to do to her body that traumatized them. I understand the image of Mari hanging is more dramatic, but they literally did it themselves so why is that more haunting than Sunny killing her?

That Mari’s true cause of death wouldn’t be immediately obvious to the parents, the police, the friends, EVERYONE. (I’ve seen fans try to get rid of this plot hole by hypothesizing that the parents knew and covered it up, but the evidence of this is circumstantial at best. The father saying, “You’re not my son,” is unreliable since it happens in Sunny’s headspace. Divorce is common after the death of a child, and, at the very least, Sunny’s mom doesn’t show any evidence of knowing what happened. The way it is written, only Sunny and Basil know the truth.)

The ridiculousness of this twist is so extreme that it completely broke any immersion I had left. Frankly, the reveal that the happy, loveable Mari committed suicide is a far heavier and more realistic twist than a crazy murder-cover-up story is.

Additionally, it seems like Basil was only written into this scene in order to make Sunny the true victim of what happened. After all, Sunny may have pushed her, but it was Basil who came up with the demented cover up. (This is apparent from just the photos but the datamined Truth Album confirms it.) By having Basil come up with the plan, the game splits the guilt between the two of them to make the kids easier to sympathize with. It’s problematic because if Basil was not in the scene, there would be no way to justify what Sunny did to Mari. So why is what they did easier to accept when they worked together?

Fixing the writing lie: Sunny lies and says that Mari slipped. Remove Basil from the scene, and instead have Sunny confide in Basil which forces Basil to become a co-conspirator and burdens him with the terrible truth.

4. Sunny’s friends forgiving him and Basil for what they did to Mari

Last but not least, the story heavily implies that Hero, Kel, and Aubrey will forgive Basil and Sunny for what they did to Mari. I found this to be almost as unbelievable as the staged-suicide stunt.

It feels like a lie since the group’s friendship is never established as anything beyond shallow hang outs from 3+ years ago (see point #1).

It feels like a lie because this is hot off the heels of Aubrey being so distraught over Mari and the following fall out that in the last three days she 1.) attacked Sunny and Kel with a nail bat TWICE, 2.) Stole Basil’s photobook, and 3.) Shoved Basil in the lake. This trauma is still very fresh for her.

It feels like a lie because the complexity of the staged-suicide is so extreme, one would be hard pressed to forgive ANYONE for doing that, be it friend, foe, parent, sibling, lover, etc.

I’ve seen fans argue that the ending is not about forgiveness, it’s about telling the truth, and I want to believe that. Really. If the ending was about Sunny starting his redemption arc by telling the truth no matter what the consequences are, that would be a meaningful lesson. But the writing does not support that. The ending headspace segments are focused on assuring Sunny that his friends will support/forgive him no matter what. To do this, the game shows us the shallow photobook memories (again) to show how much they allegedly care about each other. Then, when fighting Omori, Sunny remembers these quotes from his friends, which directly correlate to their unconditional support:

KEL: Friends... Friends are supposed to be there for each other.

AUBREY: I hope you can find some peace... or you know... some happiness.

HERO: We made the mistake of leaving each other when we needed each other the most. This time... we’ll stay together.

BASIL: Maybe one day... things can go back to the way they were before.

The really direct evidence that this ending is about getting forgiveness is this quote from Basil in Sunny’s headspace:

[BASIL: “AUBREY, KEL and HERO are good friends. You have to trust that they’ll forgive us.”]

This is one of the last scenes before Sunny tells his friends the truth, proving that obtaining forgiveness from his FRIENDS is in fact the leading motivation for Sunny’s actions.

Fixing this writing lie is easy. Instead, adjust the writing to be about telling the truth, not about how much the friends will still love Sunny. Have headspace Basil say, “Even if they don’t forgive us, Aubrey, Kel, and Hero deserve to know the truth. It’s the only way to make things right... or close to it.”

Conclusion

OMORI is undeniably a cute game with a strong visual identity, and has a premise that could make for a very compelling experience. However, the sloppy plot and weak character writing cause the potential of this game to be squandered. There are other issues as well that I chose not to cover for the sake of time, such as the poor pacing of the dragged out dungeons and the bizarre, unrealistic behavior of characters in the “real” world.

However, there are a few more glaring problems with OMORI that I have to address: In part 2 of my critique, I break down what may be the biggest problem with OMORI’s writing: the message.

[ Link to Part 2: OMORI’s Message is Mishandled and Distasteful ]

#omori #omori hate #omori spoilers #review #words #fun fact i named sunny 'moony' so I had to consciously change all the moons to suns in this essay #suicide cw

216 notes · View notes

eliselovely · 3 years ago

Text

Canine Matchmaker

Words: 2819

Warnings: p in v sex, oral (f receiving), they don’t really know each other in this, stranger danger irl but this is fiction

New Years Eve night was usually a night spent with friends, getting drunk and eating way too much snack food while waiting for midnight. Not for you though, you were happy to make yourself dinner, pour yourself a glass of wine and cuddle up on the couch with your dog to watch movies. The first two steps of that plan had gone well, and you had just let Basil, your pitbull shelter dog outside. You wait a few minutes before checking on her, she usually finishes her business pretty quickly in the winter time, not wanting to stay out in the cold for too long. However, tonight she was taking longer than usual. Going over to your patio door, you look around your backyard but you don’t see her.

“Basil, come here girl!” you call for her, stepping outside. You take a moment to listen for the jingling of her collar but you don’t hear anything. “Basil come!” Again nothing.

There was a snowstorm that was just beginning, and you were starting to fear that she had gotten out of the yard. If that was the truth, then you’d be in for a stressful night. The temperature outside was hovering around freezing, which meant that the roads would be coated with slick ice and the holiday meant that it was unlikely that the city would send out many plows. If you were going to drive in search of Basil, it had to be soon. Triple checking the yard, just in case, you find the fence gate slightly ajar, the last piece of evidence you needed to be sure you were making the right decision to get in your car.

“Fuck,” you grumble, going back inside to get your purse and keys. Donning a pair of snow boots and a heavy coat you head out to your car.

As almost an afterthought, you text a few of your neighbors to see if they’d keep an eye out for her. Driving slowly, you start to circle the neighborhood, going block by block making sure to be careful around corners, the roads getting more and more slippery by the minute. Visibility was also rapidly decreasing as the heavy snow continued to fall. You had just started to panic when you got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” you answer, trying to keep your voice from shaking in panic.

“Hi,” comes a male voice, “I think I found your dog, this number was on her collar.”

“Yes! Oh my god, is she ok?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah, she was shivering pretty badly, but I gave her some water and she’s settled on my couch under a blanket.” the man said.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe out. “Can you text me your address so I can come pick her up?”

“Definitely,” he confirms. “Drive safe, it’s getting pretty bad out there.”

“Thank you,” you say and hang up.

As soon as the man’s text comes through with his address, you punch it into google maps and you’re on your way. You pull up to your destination a few minutes later, a quiet stretch of townhomes just a few miles from your home. You sent him a quick ‘I’m here’ text and hurried up to the front door. The man who answers your knock had to be the most attractive man you had seen in real life, and in other circumstances, you would have flirted.

“Hi,” he greets. “Please, come in. Basil is in the living room, she’s pretty worn out.”

Kicking the snow off your boots, you step inside. As if she could sense your presence, Basil comes trotting into the entryway causing you to drop to your knees, giving your previously lost companion as much affection as you could.

“Hi baby,” you say to her, turning your head away from her attempts to lick your face. “Hi, yes thank you, I missed you too. You worried me naughty girl.”

You hear the man chuckle lightly at your one sided conversation, you had almost forgotten he was there.

“Thank you so much for taking care of her,” you say, standing up again to face him.

“Absolutely no problem. I’m Frankie by the way, Frankie Morales,” he says, offering a hand for you to shake.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in return. The two of you make small talk for a short while, and when you do leave, you find the snow storm has picked up considerably, roughly an inch and a half of fresh, wet snow.

“Shit,” you breathe. “Driving is going to suck.”

“If you want,” Frankie starts, “if you want, you can wait it out here and see if it lets up a bit, the plows will be out soon and make driving a whole lot easier.”

“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” you say. “But I am going to send my location to some friends just in case you’re a psycho or something.”

Frankie chuckles again. “I’d expect nothing less. You want a drink or something?

The two of you end up in his living room, chatting easily and flirting over a few beers, Basil comfortably dozing between you. Your thoughts start to wander to what you would do if you had met Frankie at a bar, how you probably would have chatted him up, or maybe he would have beaten you to it. You don’t realize you’ve zoned out until you hear his voice, calling you back to the present.

“Hey, you still with me?” he asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say. “Just got lost in thought is all.”

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“Not to answer a question with a question, but can I say something sort of forward?”

“Shoot.”

“You can totally stop me if I’m overstepping, feel free to kick me out if yo-.”

“Hermosa, what is it?”

You take a second to pluck up the rest of your courage, flushing at the nickname he called you.

“If we had met at a bar, I would have invited you home with me,” you confess, flicking your eyes up to meet his heavy gaze.

“Oh yeah?” he encourages, obviously knowing exactly what he was doing. “What would we have done?”

“I would have had you fuck me until I couldn’t walk,” you say bluntly, leaving the pleasantries until you had your response. Frankie didn’t respond at first, just took a sip of his beer never breaking eye contact.

“And what about here?” he finally says. “What if I were to invite you upstairs so I could do just that?”

“Well then, I think I’d tell you to show me a damn good time,” you say.

Frankie slowly leans forward to set his beer on the coffee table, taking yours from your grasp and doing the same. He stood in front of you, offering his hand to help you up. His touch is gentle as he places a large hand on the side of your cheek, taking a small step closer as he presses his lips to yours. You had barely a moment to bask in the feel before the two of you were being startled apart by Basil letting out a particularly loud snort in her sleep.

“I think that’s her way of telling us to get a room,” you joke, giggling lightly.

“If you say so,” he says, and before you have a chance to comprehend what he said, you are being swept off your feet into his arms, one strong arm around your back and the other under your knees. He gives you another quick kiss before starting up the stairs, presumably towards his bedroom.

He gently sets you down on the soft down comforter, giving you the first real kiss of the night. One you can truly take your time to enjoy, it’s slow and passionate, but with an undercurrent of obvious lust. You feel his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, politely asking for permission to do more. You gladly open for him, loving the taste of his mouth.

“Frankie,” you moan into his mouth, your brain no longer being able to form full thoughts.

“You want more Hermosa?” he asks, hands sliding down to caress and squeeze your breast making you arch into his touch. “Yeah?”

“Please,” you whine, embarrassed at how desperate you sound.

“Alright Sweetheart, I’ll give you more,” he promises, pulling you upright again to pull your sweatshirt over your head and tossing it somewhere to be found later. “My god you’re gorgeous,” he says running his hands across your bare skin, reaching around you to unclasp your bra. He lays you back down again, attaching his warm mouth to one of your nipples, his fingers pinching the other one.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe out.

You feel his grin against your skin, delighting in giving you pleasure. Pulling his mouth off with a pop, he moves further down, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off along with your panties.

“Damn, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he says.

“I know a better use for that motor mouth of yours,” you tease in a moment of clarity. You hold his gaze as you slide your legs open further, exposing your dripping core to him.

“So fucking sexy,” he all but moans.

Leaning down again, he kisses your lips, and from there leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down your chest and abdomen. Placing a kiss to each thigh, sending you a wink before licking a thick stripe through your folds up to your clit, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, his short facial hair scraping against your inner thighs.

“Ah, yes Frankie,” you moan.

Without warning, he sinks his index finger into your pussy causing your hips to buck up into his mouth in response. You card your fingers through his hair and hold him tightly to your sensitive heat, your moans growing louder as he continued. Frankie adds another finger, hooking them upwards and stroking your g spot.

“Right there!” you exclaim. “Fuck, right there.”

Frankie chuckles against your cunt, the vibrations just adding to the pleasure he was giving you. The familiar coil in your core was growing ever tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“I’m close,” you warn in between breaths.

“Cum for me Hermosa,” Frankie groans against your clit, sucking even harder and pumping his fingers even faster.

The coil in your belly snaps and you cum on his fingers, letting out a loud, lewd moan as you do. He pulls fingers out of you, licking one more long stripe through your folds.

“You taste so good Hermosa,” he praises, kissing up your body reaching your mouth yet again. You love tasting your release on his lips.

“Frankie,” you say, desperate to feel him inside of you. “Frankie, fuck me please.”

“As you wish Hermosa,” he grants. “You want to ride me?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Oh my fuck yes!”

Frankie chuckles again and stands to undress himself. His golden skin glowed in the lamp light, the small dusting of hair on his chest looked soft to the touch and you couldn’t wait to run your hands across his skin. You let your eyes wander downwards as he strips his pants away, a dark, well groomed happy trail leading to his substantial cock. You feel your pussy clench at the thought of having it inside you.

“You like what you see Hermosa?” he says with a sly smile.

“Dear god yes,” you say almost in a whine.

He grabs a condom from the bedside table and rolls it on before settling on the bed. Once he is ready you sling one leg over his abdomen, straddling him. It is your turn to lean down to kiss him, the remnants of your cum still detectable on his tongue. You pull away and reach behind you to line his cock up with your entrance, slowly sinking down onto it. The two of you groan in tandem at the feel of it, the stretch of his cock inside of you dancing on the line between pain and pleasure.

“You’re so tight Hermosa,” he praises, “so warm.”

You moan at his words, grinding your hips down against him. Bracing your hands on his chest, you start to bounce at a steady pace, Frankie’s hands on your hips helping to guide you as you take your pleasure. His resolve is straining as he resists the urge to fuck up into you, not wanting this to be over too quickly. He slides a hand up to cup one of your tits, the other moving to rub your clit, hoping to coax another orgasm out of you.

“Come on baby,” he groans. “Cum on my cock.”

You clench around him as you cum again, your nails digging into his skin leaving crescent shaped marks. His fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit as you come down from your high, your fluttering walls providing the perfect sheath for Frankie’s rock hard member. Collapsing against his chest, you press your lips against his, happy to explore his mouth with your tongue. After a few moments, he bucks his hips up into you a few times before flipping you onto your back, careful not to let his cock slip free.

“You ready for more Hermosa?” he asks.

You nod, not trusting your mouth to work well enough to form words after two intense orgasms. He starts slow, savoring the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped around him. He steadily builds up his pace until he’s fucking you with reckless abandon, one hand squeezes your tit, the other arm braced above your head, his weight resting on his forearm as his hand stroked your hair. You felt yet another orgasm building as he slammed his hips into yours, he was grunting in pleasure with every thrust.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum again,” you gasp.

“Do it,” he orders. “I’m close too.”

His cock hits that perfect spot inside you once, twice, three times and you’re sent hurtling over the edge, clenching down hard on his cock. As his hips start to falter, you’re hit by a wonderful thought.

“Frankie,” you moan.

“Yes Hermosa?” he replies, breathless and panting.

“I want you to cum on my tits,” you confess.

He answers you not with words, but rather with a loud groan and a quick searing kiss. He pulls out of you and tears the condom of his weeping length, stroking it rapidly as he positions himself over you. Reaching up, you place your hand over his, helping to bring him to climax.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hot cum shooting out to land on your tits and chest. You look up with a large smile on your face, your thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand, both of you still trying to catch your breath.

“That was amazing,” you pant.

“Mmm, to say the least,” he says, his voice almost at a whisper. “I’ll be right back to clean you up Hermosa.”

You hum in response, contentedly laying on his large bed. He comes back with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it over your skin cleaning away his release from your chest and yours from between your thighs. Before returning to the bathroom to return the washcloth, he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gorgeous,” he states.

A chill washes over you and you are suddenly hyper aware of Frankie’s missing body heat. Rolling off the bed, you spot your discarded sweatshirt near the edge of the bed. Just the few steps it takes you to reach the piece of clothing shows you just how sore you are, and how much more you would be later. The thought makes you smile as you pull your sweatshirt over your head.

Frankie reenters the bedroom soon after, still gloriously naked.

“Hi,” you mumbled into the kiss he gave you.

“Hi,” he responds. “The snow is still coming down pretty heavily, and it doesn’t look like the plows have been out. So it looks like you and Basil are going to be stuck here tonight.”

“Worse things have happened,” you joke. “Do you have a pair of sweatpants I could borrow for the night?”

“I’m sure I can find something for you.”

He goes to his closet then, pulling on a pair of boxers and a shirt before digging out a pair of sweatpants before tossing them to you. As you pull on your discarded panties and his much too large sweatpants, you hear the jingle of Basil’s collar as she comes up the stairs.

“She’s quite the matchmaker,” Frankie laughs.

“To say the least,” you giggle, squatting down next to your canine companion.

“Hey,” Frankie says, pointing at the clock on his bedside table.

“Happy New Year,” the two of you say simultaneously, laughing at the absurdity of tonight’s situation.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales

60 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request La Squadra finally seeing the face of their new member who always wears a mask. Like they never take it off but they eventually do for each member after they get comfortable with them as a sign of respect.

Masked new La Squadra member finally showing their face to the boys Scenarios

sfw // gn reader

Oh the absolute delicateness of this has me swooning. I can only imagine how much courage our reader must have to finally show their face to their beloved teammates. These turned out as scenario’s heh sorry. Thanks for requesting!!

Risotto

“Signore can I come in?” you knocked carefully on the thick wooden door separating your stoic capo’s office from your nervous form. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t call your boss by his first name, it felt wrong to talk so casually towards him. Like you hadn’t yet earned that privilege.

“Come in.” His voice muffled by the distance but it still sounded so wonderfully gruff. A deep breath out, the built up courage bringing you inside his office. The dark eyed man was nose deep in papers, his laptop that looked like it was hanging on by wires and good luck whirring on the side of the large oak desk, a picture of a target displayed on the pixelated screen. “Mhh?” his hum having enough intonation to tell you he wanted to know why you came to visit him in the middle of the night. “Is it possible to take a moment? Only if you have the time of course, signore.” you carefully asked not wanting to interrupt his workflow. “Not really. But if you help me sort these out we can discuss in the meantime.” He hadn’t looked up from his papers yet, sorting them after quickly scratching them with his pen. You took him up on the invitation, quietly sitting down in the chair that had been resting in front of his desk, usually reserved for personal meetings. Perhaps this was one. He slid you a folder across the table asking you to sort them by date. Before you accepted the work you carefully took of your mask laying it on the table in front of you, just in your capo’s field of view. He noticed the mask that usually covered your face staring back at him from the table, he was a little weary from working so long that it hadn’t sunk in yet what it meant. After a second that felt like it took ages he finally looked up at you realising your reveal. His eyes didn’t linger but while your eyes met his darker ones, you could see a small dimple appear on his cheek. Quietly he returned to his papers and so did you, feeling relieved that you’d finally done it, it was the first time you’ve seen him smile.

Formaggio

The red sauce swirled with flecks of green herbs as you stirred it mindlessly getting lost in the movement. The smell of tomatoes, garlic and basil filled the entire house and would continue to for a few more days. Whenever you made a big batch of your delicious but simple sauce it stayed on the stove for at least a full night on the smallest amount of heat the stove could muster. Every once in a while you’d go and stir, awakening the aromas again. The sun was starting to set and you were getting ready to let your sauce gently rest for the evening. Alone in the house except for one other: your good friend Formaggio. You hadn’t bothered with putting on your mask, feeling relaxed and ready just in case Formaggio would walk in and see you. He’d grown quite close to you, both enjoying each others company whenever in need for some carefree fun. You could hear him laugh at the tv in the other room where he’d been sitting for quite some time. Only having greeted him while on your way to the small kitchen you all shared at your headquarters. “Mhh your sauce smells soooo good! Can I reserve a couple jars when it’s done? I get special treatment cause we’re friends right?” Formaggio said as he stepped into the kitchen, head still halfway turned to the tv left behind him. His request pulling you out of the stupor of stirring, surprised he hasn’t noticed your face yet. When he turned he had to do a double take. Was that really you? Did a stranger slip into the house just to stir your sauce? “Is that your face?” his quizzical look making you laugh, the way he phrased his shock even more. “What? Is it that bad?” you retorted in amusement while holding up the wooden spoon. “No, no. It’s just... wow. I didn’t really expect this. You look nice, even better than I imagined.” It looked like he was trying his best not to stumble over his words, your witty friend normally being more easygoing in his reactions. “Oh good. However, complementing me does not earn you extra sauce.” you playfully winked at him before returning to stirring.

Illuso

The early morning sun shone brightly through your windows bringing in the new dawn. It was rare for you to be up at the same time as the sun rose, maybe it was more more common for you to finally take your rest as you saw it appear. Sluggishly dragging your slippers across the floor you entered the bathroom to splash some fresh water onto your face so it would help you stay awake. Your current mission requiring you to take an early flight to your target’s destination. As your tired eyes stared back at you, droplets still falling down from your now refreshed face, a sudden movement caused you to tense up. You swear you saw a dark figure move across the mirror faster than you could process. A panic grew in your chest as you realised your mask was still resting on your nightstand. Shit. “Illuso?” you asked quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear you. You wouldn’t put it past him to sneak up on you like this but it would be a strange event since you’d become quite close to the well kept man. You’d go as far to call him a friend. But no one replied. The shadow didn’t return no matter how long you stared. Feeling your suspicion fall you decided to carry on with your morning, maybe you were just tired. But upon entering your room again you were surprised to see your aforementioned friend lounging casually on your comforter. “Morning. Just wanted to wish you a safe trip.” he smiled, it looked so sly sitting on his turned lips. “Illuso don’t scare me like that. It was you in the mirror wasn’t it?” you scolded him, turning your face away from him. But it had been too late, he already saw your beautiful face and kept his strong gaze on you. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to. I just use that mirror to skip along very often.” you still didn’t believe his defence, slowly growing angry at his trespassing. Before you knew it you felt his figure behind you, a muscled arm reaching around. As you looked down you saw him holding out the familiar mask in his hand. You quickly took it from him and fastened it. “I really am sorry darling, but so glad I at least got a glimpse of the beauty you’re hiding.” he smirked. Before you could smack him, he was off again into his mirrorworld avoiding any other further confrontation.

Prosciutto

“You asked for me?” his warm voice entered before he did, slowly pushing open the creaky door to your room as he knocked. As he came to face you Prosciutto stopped in his tracks, his hand still on the door handle gripping it tightly . “I’m so sorry, I should have stayed outside!” his apology was flustered, face snapped to the side so he wasn’t looking at you. To his surprise you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on your desk chair facing the entrance, the only thing that had been different was the fact you’d taken off your mask. Your bright eyes shone at him making Prosciutto wish he could linger longer in the split second he could take in your features. “No! No... it’s ok. This is why I asked you to come. Please, it’s- you can look.” you hurriedly replied waving your hands while you spoke. The way he responded filled you with relief though, the gentlemanly way he tried to respect your privacy wasn’t something you’ll soon forget. He sighed while swallowing deeply, you could clearly see his throat bob with apprehensiveness. The bun’s on his head turned with him while he finally met your eyes again, this time properly. He stood there for a moment, quietly taking in your lovely face. Admiring the way your nose bent, the way the low orange hue of your desk light seemed to make your eyes sparkle. It was silent for a moment, you felt your hands clam up as you gripped your fingers in your palms. “I’m sorry I surprised you Prosciutto.” your voice was soft, hinting at your embarrassment. You don’t really take off your mask for just anyone, it was the way Prosciutto had treated you since you joined that made you feel so welcome and wanted. He always did his best to include you, he never even questioned your mask. “It’s alright. I- You look lovely, uhm. Thank you?” never had you seen him this flustered. It wasn’t like your blonde colleague at all. His hand still hadn’t let go of the door handle, knuckles now white from his grip. You chuckled as his response, how weird of him to thank you. But you felt what he meant, he appreciated that you trusted him.

Pesci

It was a sunny afternoon, the soft rays of winter sunshine lighting up your room with a soft orange hue. The heater had been turned on causing a nice and cozy atmosphere in your little personal bubble. Even though it was sunny, the temperatures had dropped drastically and since you were so used to the natural warmth of Napoli you were wrapped in a warm sweater to further keep in as much heat as possible. You just got done sorting some files to help your capo get some time off from work just like the rest of his team. It was a peaceful day, most of your companions were out and about, going on walks or shopping or out enjoying a drink. Among the ones that stayed behind was the tall, green tufted, shy and nervous teammate you’d started to become closer with. Finally able to get past his own hurdles, he felt comfortable enough around you. Opting to sit closer while watching tv together instead of nervously clamming up and not moving for 20 minutes. It felt like the right time to reveal some more of yourself, entrusting Pesci with the well kept secret that was your face. You hurried downstairs, excited butterflies making your stomach bubble, asking Pesci to meet you in your room in 5 minutes. He seemed a bit surprised and anxious since you hadn’t told him why, a million thoughts going through his head as to why you wanted him there. Did he mess up something? Were you mad at him? Did you not want to be friends anymore? Oh god please make these 5 minutes shorter. The excitement hadn’t left your body, perking up as you heard Pesci’s steps in the hallway before he knocked on your door. You quickly replied for him to come in and sit down on your bed. Seeing how enthusiastic you were made him calm down a bit, still overtly curious as to what it is you wanted to say. “Close your eyes for me please!” You said as you bounced a little on your soft mattress. He cautiously did as you asked and closed his eyes shut and held them that way. Quickly taking off your mask and putting it down on the bed before you, a last breath out and you were ready. “Open please!” He squinted one eye open, trying to get a lay of the view before him, worried you were pranking him. But to his own surprise the view was anything but scary. His face softened and a soft blush made its way over his cheeks as a goofy smile became apparent. “You look so lovely.” It seemed that it was a comment he actually wanted to keep to himself because he swiftly brought his hand to his mouth to cover it. Like he was pushing the words back in, but it was too late. You giggled at his response, still reeling from the excitement. “It’s a secret though, no pictures.” you winked at him to tell him his response was no issue.

Melone

Tired eyes stare at the blue hued screen before him. Another all nighter, the moment he opened new tabs he kept going deeper and deeper, any interesting term that caught his attention got added to the already heaping to-read list. Finally admitting that he needs to hydrate and maybe even eat a snack, Melone sighs and stretches his arms and legs. Cracking and popping heard from his sore joints from sitting in the hunched over position way too long. His purple, vanilla scented blanket still resting on his head and shoulders as he quietly sneaks downstairs towards the kitchen for the quick midnight raid. His fluffy socks muffling his steps as he walks into the dining area that connects to the small kitchen. Only the soft sheen of street lights illuminated the room as he scuffled by the seats. But it doesn’t feel like he’s alone, his senses tingle and his arm hair stands up. Smart enough not the densely ask “Who’s there?” he opts to engage his sneaking abilities. As slow and quiet as possible he scoots over to the light switch ready to fight whoever made their way into the house. The lights spring on, the brightness of the bulbs hurting his tired eyes that desperately needed a rest. After rubbing them and adjusting his vision, he sees a familiar form resting their head on their arms slumped over the kitchen table. Creeping closer to inspect you he sees your body move slightly with the shallow breaths. It seemed you had fallen asleep while reading and someone just turned off the kitchen lights, going along with their night not bothering to wake you up. The thought made Melone huff out a laugh. He did also notice the mask you usually wore resting next to the book, your delicate hand resting next to it, like the second you took it off drowsiness got the better of you. “Hey...Wake up, sleepyhead. Unless you want Prosciutto eating his breakfast and using your head as a table you should probably go to bed.” he whispered in your ear. You weren’t that far gone into sleep so his whispers jolted you up, confusedly staring down in front of you as you felt Melone’s figure close next to you. When you starting lifting your head further up to straighten yourself you felt a stern hand push down your head. “Shhh careful. You’re not wearing your mask!” he hushed into your ear with a mischievous tone. Getting annoyed by his antics you opted to just leave it. Slapping his hand off of your head, standing up and leaving your belongings on the table. Before you left the kitchen for your room you stopped to give Melone a grumpy glare. “Why’re you looking all angry at me? I warned you.” he huffs in amusement as he shoots you a wink and a kiss. You’ll deal with him in the morning.

Ghiaccio

The heavy beats and synths moved through your ears, pounding into your chest as the wind blew harshly against you. It was nighttime and barely any cars other than the one you were in were visible on the road. The cool, salty breeze filling your lungs as you breathed in heavily. You still felt uneasy, gripping your hands into fists, wanting to release a scream so loud it would wake up all of southern Italy. Today was just not your day. Shit upon shit kept piling up and you felt like you were about to explode when Ghiaccio spotted how upset you were and offered to take you on a drive. “Anything will do at this point. Let’s go.” Before he had enough time to grab his keys you were already out the door and had jumped into the passenger seat of his expensive red sports car. You’d been cruising on long winding roads, the ocean view beside you causing at least some relief. Ghiaccio had been awfully silent the whole ride, letting his music fill the air instead. The engine stopped atop a mountain road, an empty parking place near the summit of the hill, a few benches strewn about so visitors could relax. But it was just you two, staring out at the ocean waves that seemed to move in a much more calming way than you felt. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ghiaccio said cautiously as he turned down the volume of the radio so you could talk in peace. “It’s just so... ngh. Just- fuck!” you gripped at your hair in frustration, there were no words that wanted to come out, still too riled up. “Ah, it’s one of those days.” He said while looking at you over his red frames. Like he read your thoughts he suggested you let it all out in one scream. “It helps me sometimes. Don’t worry, no one’s ever come up here to check if I was being murdered. They don’t care, just scream.” Without any warning you flipped off your mask, it landing in Ghiaccio’s lap as he just stared at you in shock. The pure guttural scream you let out felt like it had been brewing for a long time. A wild animal finally let out of its cage. He was impressed by you as you sat back down letting go of the windshield that was being gripped so tightly when you stood up to yell. A heavy sigh leaving your lips as he hands you back your mask. “You’re kind of scary when you’re mad, you know that?” he chuckled under his breath. “I like that about you.” he continued as he saw a small smile grow back on your lips he was so gingerly admiring.

#cozy request #jjba imagines #jjba scenarios #jjba x reader #la squadra #risotto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader

273 notes · View notes

the-melting-world · 3 years ago

Text

Strength | Side B: "Colder Heavens"

art by @ ligiawrites

~ In which a former Count breaks a very important rule…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Colder Heavens” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: language, alcohol, blood, violence, mild gore

~ 3.3k words

***

~ 17 years ago ~

Hans von Heine shrugged the heavy sack of potatoes off his shoulder as he arrived at the door of his small flat. He unlocked the door and shortly after letting himself inside, he was met with a very tired, “Careful. There’s glass on the floor.”

Hans looked up and locked eyes with his wife, Magda. She was still busy sweeping up the remains of broken ceramic bowls in the kitchen.

“What happened?” Hans asked, gracefully sidestepping the uneven shards. There was no alarm or urgency in his voice, only concerned curiosity. After dropping off the potato sack, he began to help Magda by collecting the larger pieces.

“Khlee.” Magda sighed. “She had another headache and panicked.”

Hans grunted as he stood up. “It’s been a while since her last one. I’ll go talk to her.”

Magda got up too and touched his shoulder. “She’s finally up and moving but…” The skin around the woman’s clear blue eyes wrinkled slightly. “She can’t lift her arms, Hans.”

He covered her hand with his larger one and used the other to gently massage a little tension out of her shoulders. When she relaxed some, he nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Magda. We’ll come help you with dinner soon.”

Magda looked around. “What did you bring for me this time?”

Hans’ dark beard stretched over his toothy grin. “Kartoffeln.”

Magda rolled her eyes. “Wieder, Hans?”

He chuckled as he disengaged from her and popped a kiss to her brow. “Yes. Again. Khlee likes them and they’re cheap.”

Magda drifted back to her task. “Hm. I can see what you’re doing. You want to take her to the beer garden this weekend.”

“The festival is in town,” Hans said. “And I’m willing to bet that wherever Khlee came from, she’s never been to one quite like ours.”

When Hans left the kitchen, he didn’t have to walk very far to get to Khlee’s room. He found his child sitting on the edge of her cot, swinging her legs and glaring at the wall. Though she hadn’t been a part of their household for very long, Hans still felt like they had brought her up since birth.

“Mama says you’re walking now,” He said as he closed the door behind him. “I’m very proud of you.” He took a seat beside her.

Khlee tensed underneath the warm poncho Magda had quilted for her. It was large enough to allow her arms to hide away unless she wanted it otherwise.

“Mama helped me.”

Hans lowered his gaze to Khlee’s knees, which bore fresh cuts from the broken dishes.

“Oh? So is that how you thank her? By breaking all of her kitchenware?”

Khlee drew in sharp breath and leaned over as if to cradle her head, but she couldn’t.

“Papa, I didn’t mean to, I swear! I… I was trying to remember something, but I–”

Hans cursed himself for taking it too far. “Khlee, calm yourself. No one is angry with you.” He gathered her head under his chin and held the wheezing child until her breathing was back under control.

“Now.” Hans sat her upright and pushed some of those wild curls out of her dark eyes. “What about your arms? Show me the progress you’ve made.”

Khlee puffed out her cheeks once, twice. Then she strained hard enough to grow veins in her neck. The only evidence beyond that of her effort was the rigid tension in her shoulders.

Hans smiled fondly. “That’s all right, Khlee.”

She gave a violent shake of her head and clenched her jaw against the resistance. “No. Wait, Papa. I can–”

Hans placed his hands on her shoulders. “That’s enough for now. You’ll grow into them…. Now come with me.”

As he pulled Khlee onto her feet, he glanced down at her knees to make sure she didn’t aggravate her cuts. Oddly, the cuts were still there, but no longer weeping. They looked more like scabs now, as if they were halfway done healing.

“Papa?”

Hans put the thought out of his mind before Khlee could notice the concern in his face. He looked down at her and ruffled her hair. “First we’ll help your mother in the kitchen. Then I’m going to show you how to use those legs.”

Khlee shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to adjust her poncho. “What do you mean?”

With a smile, Hans gently guided her towards the door. “There’s a few folk dances from the Heine that I want to show you. You don’t need your arms for those.”

Khlee grumbled something about how dancing was stupid.

Hans only chuckled. “Trust me, meine kleine Khleo, a dance will come in handy the next time you feel like you want to break something.”

~ Present Day ~

“Hey, Basil.”

Lucio beckoned the mixologist over. As soon as he found out that Khleo’s coworker with the cropped salt and pepper curls and cool blue eyes was helping out that night with the club’s activities, he took the opportunity to catch the barhand’s attention.

Lucio couldn’t tell if the look Basil shot him was wary or friendly or a little bit of both. But he came down to his side of the minibar anyway and started cleaning a fresh glass.

“Montag, right? Did you need something?”

Now that Basil was closer, Lucio could count the dark marks scattered about his olive-toned skin. Lucio, who was feeling a lot more confident these days, let his eyes linger a little longer than average before speaking again.

“Enjoying the view?” Basil whispered, his eyes still on his task.

Lucio cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from the barhand’s tanned forearms.

“Say, Basil. Do you know why Khleo never fights?”

Basil finally looked up, but instead of locking eyes with Lucio, he cast his gaze over the former Count’s shoulder at the rest of the members mingling about the basement.

“Sounds like that’s not the first time you’ve asked that question.”

Lucio surrendered his hands. “I’m just curious is all. Trust me, I don’t have any plans to challenge Khlee in a fight. I’m no fool.”

Basil’s eyes finally met Lucio’s. “Khleo doesn’t fight that often because they don’t bleed. Or at least, not for very long. I have a feeling they keep out of the ring just to make everyone else feel comfortable.”

Lucio made a curious sound. “They cast some sort of regenerative spell before the fight or..?”

Basil shook his head. “It’s not magic. They’re blessed or... bewitched. Whatever you want to call it. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Hefe.”

Lucio glanced over at the fireplace and shuddered. “I am. Not. Doing that.”

He was briefly reminded of a few days back when he woke up in the hearth with no clue of how he got there. He remembered most of everything that happened the day before up until after the fight club had let out for the night. The very edges of his memory contained snippets of Khleo pouring themself a drink and asking Lucio if he wanted some. After that it was just a haze in which Hefe’s face sometimes showed up. She would lock Lucio into her amber stare and somehow amplify the space around his head with headache-inducing vibrations.

“Like you said,” Basil smiled a bit more openly than before, “you’re no fool.”

They laughed together and after that, their conversation flowed with much more ease. Lucio managed to ask Basil on a date before getting dragged into club meeting activities. He walked out of the bar with fresh bruises and a split lip that suffered even more under his wide, content smile.

Lucio hardly noticed the days passing him by. By now he was a pro at reserving himself a place to lay his head at night and grab breakfast in the morning for free. On the days where he didn’t have fight club to look forward to, he spent his time volunteering at the very centers where he stayed. Most of the work was boring and the people who passed through made his gut twist in sympathy, but it kept him busy.

One day, Lucio was enjoying a late breakfast of grits and sardines when a rough-looking bunch filed in. After they got their food, they collected around Lucio, who couldn’t help noticing their stares.

Some things never changed with Lucio. He still enjoyed attention. Whether he was happily getting his ass kicked in the ring or peacocking around at a masquerade party, something stirred pleasantly in his abdomen whenever all eyes were on him.

And he knew exactly why the rough newcomers had gathered around to stare at him.

“Those are some gnarly war wounds.”

Lucio grinned quietly to himself as he finished the rest of his food. “Thank you.”

One of them scooted close enough to him to bump elbows. “Tell us where you got ’em.”

Lucio coughed in order to hide a burp before looking up at the twelve or so individuals.

“Well, see here’s the thing,” he said with a sly grin. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

The curiosity on their faces immediately turned into intrigue, which got Lucio’s pulse quickening. He was enjoying this.

Several of the group glanced at one in particular. The leader, if Lucio had to guess. He was a big fella with about a dozen rings decorating his ears, creating frills of copper and obsidian glass.

“Look, we get it. You’re no rat. But me and my friends, we’re uh… a restless bunch.” He leaned over the table in order to whisper to Lucio. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble. We just need a place to let off some steam, you know?”

Lucio hesitated for a moment. “I do. I know what you mean.”

The one who had brushed elbows with him earlier, slung an arm over his shoulder and said, “So, you don’t have to tell us anything, but maybe you can point us in the general direction?”

Almost immediately after he had, the group of friends took their food and abandoned the table. Lucio sat there, a little bewildered. A part of him had expected them to stay a while and chat him up a little more.

He tried to shake off the sour feeling and just focus on looking forward to fight club. By the time evening had rolled around, Lucio’s skin was tingling with excitement. He was one of the first to arrive at the tavern basement. Khleo hadn’t returned from her delivery shift yet, but it seemed she had already set the table with bread and pilsners. These days, there was a large sign propped up on the middle of the table that read: Clean up after yourselves or no bread ever again!

The rest of the members started to file in not long after Lucio sat down. The companions he had made greeted him and gave him the attention he had been craving since that morning. At some point, Khleo swept in, looking sore and sulky from a long day’s work. But the club members knew how to lift her spirits and very soon all of them were barefoot and clustering around the center of the room, trying to decide who would be fighting first.

The friendly atmosphere, however, turned cold the moment the door that led out onto the street opened and a new presence entered the space.

“You’re telling me that there was a fight club right here under the Chandrian this whole time?”

Lucio, who was positioned near the back wall, strained to look over all of the heads between him and the new voice. Whispers broke out among the fighters.

“Who the hell are those guys?”

The intruder stepped into the light and repeated himself. “Who’s club is this? We want to talk to the manager.”

Lucio blinked suddenly as he recognized the man from Temple District. It appeared that he had brought along his whole flock from that morning and then some.

“Heard you had a friendly little club going and we wanted to see if the rumors were true. See we’ve just stolen a brand new ship and we need a bigger staff. So I’m here to recruit.”

Finally, Khleo separated herself from the sea of members. She scanned her crowd and said coldly, “Which one of you ran your damn mouth?”

Lucio felt the blood drain from his face as he drifted back and back and back into the shadows. When his spine collided with the wall, he edged to the right towards the little hallway nestled under the stairs.

His skin jumped as he heard Khleo repeat her question in a sterner tone. Lucio scrambled over crates and stumbled through racks of costumes until he was sure he was safe.

“Hello, Lucio.”

Lucio swung his fist at the sound of the voice, missed, and tripped into the brick wall hard enough to split his lip back open.

“Interesting... that they let you stay in this club.”

Lucio steadied himself against the wall. “Quaestor. W-what are you doing here?”

All that was visible in the dim light was the silhouette of Valdemar’s mummified horns.

“Bringing my tuna home of course. It’s been fourteen days. Or have you in all your frolic not been paying attention?” They came closer and drew a deep, wet breath. “Not that I’m complaining. Your blood smells more rare and ripe than I could have imagined. Well done.”

Lucio swallowed. “Wait. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to the Lazaret!”

It wasn’t in Valdemar’s nature to care what their experiments desired or craved. They unhatched a portal behind Lucio for easy transportation right before lifting their heel and kicking him square in the chest. Lucio stumbled backwards into the gooey blackness. Valdemar followed shortly after.

***

“You?” The challenger snorted. “You can’t be the one in charge. You’re just a squirt with freakish arms.”

“I bet they’re not even real,” one of his companions drawled. “Probably just some parlor trick glamour.”

“Get lost. You’re not recruiting anyone tonight.” Khleo said as they looked up into the eyes of the challenger with the frilled earrings. Without hesitation, he stepped up to Khleo and gave their chest an easy shove.

“We weren’t asking for permission. If your people don’t want to come with us, we’ll just take the ones we need.” He and some of his crew gestured vaguely to the weapons fastened to their hips.

Khleo lifted their chin. “If you weren’t looking for permission, why in the hell did you ask to speak to the manager?”

A couple of snickers erupted from Khleo’s side.

Earrings gave a nasty scowl before spitting by Khleo’s foot. “You got a lot of mouth for someone who calls themself the damn manager.”

“Meet me in the ring and I’ll show you how I got that title.” Khleo said. “If it ends in a KO or I tap out, you can take whoever you want.” They stretched out their hand. “And if I win, you leave us the fuck alone.”

The challenger snatched their hand up. “You’re on.”

Khleo could feel the eyes of all of the patrons. They knew what they were thinking. This wasn’t the first time some low life had found out about the club and came in trying to shake things up. The patrons must have been wondering why Khleo had chosen to fight.

I need this. I need to do this.

< I’m here. >

Khleo felt the soothing presence of their familiar across their mental link. They wished they could reach out and stroke her.

~ I know, Hefe. Thank you. ~

The challenger met them in the ring and didn’t hold back. He was a street fighter before this, that much was certain. His familiarity with Khleo’s style made them go into the defensive. He was much bigger than them and knew how to grapple correctly.

But Khleo wasn’t about to hold back. Not this time.

They gave the challenger an opening. With a sure punch, he knocked Khleo’s head back, filling the air was a short, sickening crunch. The challenger’s followers whooped in excitement while the fight club members gasped in disbelief.

Khleo staggered, but instinctively raised their elbows around their head.

“See?” The challenger scoffed. “I knew you were all talk. You practically let me hit you.”

Khleo stopped swaying and firmly planted their feet. They lowered their arms and pulled themself out of the hunch so everyone could see what happened to their face.

The challenger sneered in distaste at what he was seeing.

Khleo stared right back at him, refusing to cradle their unhinged jaw, seemingly unaware of the blood leaking from where teeth and jawbone had torn their skin apart. Khleo snapped their head hard enough to seal off the gaping chasm. The crowd’s disgusted groans turned into gasps of disbelief at the sight of Khleo’s jaw stitching itself together.

“Go on,” they said, wiping the leftover blood on the back of their hand. “Hit me again.”

The challenger didn’t look like he wanted to do anything of the sort, but it was clear that the approval of his crew meant a lot to him. Khleo hoped he would walk away, she really hoped he would. But all he did by staying was make himself a target. For their anger, their frustration, every weight that had been added onto them in the past few weeks.

Khleo didn’t hold back her strength as she fought. The challenger was no match for her and this fight was not fair. But Khleo went over the edge a long time ago. She didn’t care.

There were so many things she couldn’t fight back against. So she fought the challenger. She fought and fought and clawed at his decorated ears with her blunt fingernails. She emptied out all her kicks and elbows to his face until it was unrecognizable.

Khleo wrestled their opponent to the ground and fired a right hook to his cheek. All the bystanders were screaming now. This was no longer a fight. It was bloodsport. And Khleo knew better than anyone how silly with delight a crowd could get from it.

In an attempt to regain some control, the challenger roared in defiance and cracked his forehead against Khleo’s nose.

The crowd erupted with excitement.

Khleo slowed down, bringing the challenger close enough so that he could see her nose render and heal with his own eyes. The incredulous terror in the challenger’s eyes made Khleo break into a wide, blood-stained grin.

“You should kill me and see what happens.”

He tried to tap out. “Okay, you win. You win!” The longer he looked at her, the more his lip trembled in fear for his life. Tears and snot soon mixed with the blood leaking from his contorted face.

Khleo ignored their own rules and snarled, “What the fuck are you crying for? You’re the one who came up in my house! And for what? To intimidate my friends into joining your disgusting crew?”

“I’m sorry! I said I was done!”

The tapout had served its purpose – to snap everyone else out of their bloodlust. They tried to talk Khleo down, reminding her that it was over. When they started to pull her off of the man, Khleo thrashed.

“No – Let me go! If he wants to cry, I’ll give him something to cry about!”

She lunged. The challenger begged for his crew to help. The seconds that followed were simply pandemonium. Patrons and the intruders clashed, wrestling each other to the ground. Several fighters dogpiled Khleo at once in order to protect the challenger. She wheezed under their crushing weight.

Then the sounds of fighting were interrupted by a wild, guttural roar. The cacophony of screams that followed caused Khleo to twist in agony.

“There’s a fucking lion in here!”

Khleo drew in a ragged breath as the weight lifted from her back. She scrambled to her feet. Not long after she righted herself did she hear something that made her blood run cold.

The door at the top of the stairs flung open and a booming voice filled the space.

“What in the gods-damned fuck is going on down there!”

People were already running and tripping over each other, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the lion. Khleo tried to reach out to Hefe through their link, but it was too late. Otto was already at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the mess of the basement as well as the enormous lion terrorizing all of his potential customers.

~ Hefe. He saw you. Go! ~

Hefe didn’t argue with her human. She stole out into the street, chasing off the last of the challenger’s crew. Once she was gone, Khleo turned to face their boss. They took a deep breath because they knew they were in for it.

Khleo needed a miracle. Because she was certain that after tonight, there wouldn’t be any more fight club.

#the arcana #khleo the barhand #arcana albums #arcana albums: strength #lucio #count lucio #lucio the arcana #quaestor valdemar #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #the arcana fic #blood cw #alcohol cw #gore cw #violence cw

35 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Affliction. Yandere Giorno x Reader [COMM]

a/n: tw for descriptions of injury, and blood. implications of abusive relationships.

here is the sequel!

There are many things in life that once you experience it too often, you may come to tire of it.

However, that could never be said for the initial second you open the creaky doors of your apartment building; the delightful scent of salt water hitting your nose. Rays of sunlight kiss and warm your skin in coordination with the ocean breeze that whirls around your hair.

For a moment, all you desire to do is stay still, drinking in the environment of fresh air and sounds of bustling city life that surround you. Another time, you think to yourself, as you set out on the comfortingly familiar winding streets of Naples. You whisk by beckoning street vendors, their empty promises of good deals falling on deaf ears.

A part of you feels pity for the tourists that fall for these coaxing traps, but you can understand the vendors' plight. Not only do they have to maintain their business to feed their families, there are also protection fees that must leave their pockets. Although from the rumors going around town, the new boss of the mafia has a less ruthless streak than the previous one. But the mafia still finds ways to be ruthless, you suppose.

After walking these paths your entire life, you’ve found yourself discovering new shortcuts. The walk to the market isn’t long enough to warrant a drive on nice days like this one, but it can be tiring to take the main paths. You soon arrive at a familiar alleyway entrance that saves you a few minutes when you take it, confidently walking into it. It’s convenient to have a shortcut so close to your residence.

Still, it’s a path you’d never think to take once the sun sets in the sky. Alleys do have a reputation in Naples for unsavory exchanges. But with the former drug issue in the area becoming less of a pressing concern, you’ve felt more at ease venturing into areas like this one. As long as you mind your own business and walk briskly, you doubt you’ll encounter any trouble. It’s the silent mantra of your mind to avoid trouble.

It’s difficult to not feel on edge as you walk through the alley, tall buildings on either side of you looming. The claustrophobic sensation of only having a single place to run away heightens your senses, your eyes desperately searching every visible nook and cranny for trouble. Each step you take echoes within this isolated world, the sounds of comforting society far behind you.

It’s a common sight to see dumpsters against the brick walls of this area, the added blind spot serving only to unease you more. Always leaning on the cautious side, you take care to look for any human life they might hide from your normal line of sight. Holding your breath at the first upcoming one, you discreetly peak your head around to see if the coast is clear.

What you see instead of an awaiting burglar, is a bloodied body of a young man. The sight causes your jaw to go agape, pupils dilating as your mind processes the shocking information. Your years of training overwhelms your desire to run away, not wanting to leave someone in such a sorry state. Leaning forward, you press your middle and pointer finger to the young man’s neck in search of a pulse.

‘It’s weak, but he’s still alive!’

Hands trembling ever so slightly, you quickly mull over your current options. This area doesn’t have a hospital in the close vicinity, and you don’t have your phone on you to call for an ambulance should he need it. However, your apartment building is only a minute away from here at the most. With stored medical supplies that you bought to assist in your studies, maybe it’d be best to treat him there instead…?

There isn’t any more time to waste, as you glance down at the sprawling wound across his chest. Without a second thought, you bend down to grab a hold of his limp arm, heaving him up with all of your might. Shakily exhaling, you begin to limp forward while being weighed down by his unconscious body. Your stomach churns at the thought of not making it to your apartment in time, but all you can do is throw the thought into the back of your mind.

It isn’t an easy task, but you find a rhythm of moving forward while ignoring your aching muscles. Gritting your teeth, you eventually come to the familiar alleyway entrance that sits beside your apartment building. Even at the sight you refuse to relax, instead urgently rushing to bring him inside. Balancing his limp body against your own, you struggle but still manage to open the door to your building.

It’s never been a prospect you felt grateful for in the past, but now you feel immensely thankful for your apartment being on the first floor. You can already feel exhaustion weighing down on you, but there’s still much more work to be done. With deft fingers, you pull your jingling keys out of your pocket. Balancing him against your side once more, you fiddle with the lock before managing to burst inside.

The reality of the situation now fully dons upon you, as you realize you need to act fast. As gently as you’re capable of, you place his bloodied body onto your cheap couch. With his weight being lifted off you, you take a deep breath; before scurrying around frantically for your medical supplies. In the bathroom cabinet you find your first aid kit, grabbing it in a rush before running back to him in record time.

Hearing nothing but your own hammering heartbeat, your eyes run over the contents of the first aid kit with familiarity. The blood doesn’t appear to be gushing out at an uncontrollable rate. You can safely disinfect the wound without the looming concern of him going into shock. After cleaning the gaping wound to the best of your knowledge, you gingerly apply an antibiotic ointment over it to prevent infection.

Following suit, a series of gauze is wrapped around the affected area of his torso. Letting out a deep sigh after what felt like an eternity, you lean back and consider your handiwork. Even if you’re not officially a doctor yet, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride in the clean addressing of the wound. Bits of blood seep through the white colored gauze, but it’s nothing that won’t clot in time.

After disposing of your dirtied gloves and washing your hands, you return to your currently occupied couch. Amidst the whirlwind of panic finding a bloodied body brought with it, you never got the opportunity to look at the person you’re treating well. He dons a strange hairstyle you’ve never seen before, bright golden locks tied back into a braid. Along with three, circular like fashioned bangs on his head.

Tilting your head, you notice the outfit he’s wearing showcases his fit physique. His facial features sharp, but his slightly parted lips appear soft and pink. You get the feeling this individual takes care of himself, seeing how well groomed he is. As embarrassing as it is to admit it, you have to confess he’s attractive.

‘What do I even do now?’ you think to yourself with a frown.

His pulse is stronger than it was before, and from your swift treatment you know he’s not in any critical condition. It doesn’t make much sense to you how the wound on his chest incapacitated him. It wasn’t as deep as you expected from a glance at his condition. And from what you could tell there wasn’t any head trauma that’d cause him to pass out.

So what could’ve occurred to set all this into motion?

In this area you can’t help but assume some form of foul play. While it might be rude to question him about it, you decide to ask him what happened when he wakes up. It’s always been your personal philosophy to care for others in need, it’s what fueled you to study medicine in the first place.

As odd as it is having a stranger sleeping on your couch, you carry on for the next hour tending to some chores while monitoring his condition. There are so many things you want to ask him when he wakes up, the anticipation making it difficult to focus on anything for long.

Time continues on, the sunset on the horizon and microwave beeping to signal your meal is finished warming. All of that physically demanding movement is starting to wear down on you, the painkillers you took an hour ago finally starting to dull the ache. Humming to yourself, you open the microwave to reveal risotto that you had made the day prior.

Plopping yourself on the other side of your occupied couch, you greedily begin to chow down on the leftovers. Hints of basil and garlic intermingle with the fresh tomato you had used, all creating an abundance of flavor on your palate. You find yourself so occupied with savoring your meal, you fail to notice a distant stirring.

A loud squeak leaves your mouth as he shakily sits himself up, his face grimacing. Quickly placing your meal down, you rush over to his side.

“D-don’t move please! If you move too much, the wound might reopen,” you call out hastily, settling down next to his side to check the bloodied gauze’s status. He blinks at the sight of you, understandably befuddled by the situation in front of him. “Actually, it might be a good idea to change this bandage now…”

Gnawing on your lip, you hover your hands over the bandage on his torso.

“Please, don’t worry about it.”

He finally speaks up, bringing your attention to his face. Blinking in surprise, you realize you can’t change it against his will. Sitting back, you fiddle with your hands while you think of how to handle this awkward situation. Your curiosity from before makes a cautious return, but you suppress it for the time being.

“I should introduce myself. My name’s [First], and uh, this is my apartment. I saw you kinda… passed out and patched you up,” you begin to explain with a sheepish smile. “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed right now, but you’ll be okay. Physically I mean. I cleaned your wound with antibiotics and dressed it a little over an hour ago, but it should be changed soon.”

The young man in front of you doesn’t flinch at your not so subtle desire to apply a fresh gauze, instead focusing on introducing himself as well.

“I can see you took good care of me. Thank you, [First],” he responds with a soft smile of his own, glancing from his chest to you. “... I’m Giorno.”

Where most in a situation like this would be panicked, Giorno seems to have a firm grip of himself. Your eyebrows knit together at this, wondering if he may have damaged his head somehow after all. His entire person is well put together, even covered in bloodied bandages in a stranger’s apartment.

Suddenly, he glances towards one of his pockets, seemingly assessing something.

“You didn’t take my wallet.” Giorno points out, his facial features too controlled to read. You stare at him for a moment, before realizing the implications of his words.

“O-of course not! I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” you rush out a small defense, voice raising in pitch.

“That makes you a rarity then,” Giorno comments with esteem, turquoise eyes taking in your appearance. It feels like he’s trying to get a read on you in the same way you’re trying to understand him. “I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

A timid laugh leaves your lips, waving off his concern. “I’m actually used to this stuff. I’ve been training in medicine for what… around four years now? Although I normally don’t do it in my apartment, and it’s always on a dummy,” you ramble, feeling your cheeks warm as Giorno seriously listens to your words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking so much. I’m sure you’re already overwhelmed.”

Giorno hums quietly, shakes his head once. “I don’t mind. It’s best that it was you who found me rather than anyone else.”

His words feel well put together, their intention of complimenting you evident. The feeling of someone putting you in high regard is flustering, you only did what you thought was right. Still, you attempt to get a hold of yourself, not wanting to seem like a bumbling fool in front of Giorno.

“Ah, you must be in pain. I have some over the counter painkillers, if you want. It’ll still take a while to kick in though. But it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Nodding in affirmation, you scurry off to your kitchen cabinet to find your generic painkillers. Bringing a bottle of water with you, you return to Giorno who is now sitting up. It’s still remarkable to you how he’s not showing any signs of being in pain. Any adrenaline that would’ve dulled the pain earlier should be long gone by now, so why isn’t he so much as flinching when he moves?

Giorno starts to sit up to meet you, but pauses when your eyes widen in panic.

“It’d really be best to move as little as possible for now.” you plead, bringing the items over to him. Giorno doesn’t object to your request, instead giving a quiet thank you and taking the pill you handed him gratefully.

“How do you feel?” you inquire, sitting down next to him. You resist the temptation to check his pulse again, certain that now he’s awake he doesn’t want a stranger to touch him. Giorno seems to think about your question for a moment, as if wanting to pick out a good answer.

“I have a high pain tolerance, something like this doesn’t bother me much.” Giorno offers in response, setting the bottle of water down on the coffee table in front of him. The unhesitating movements perplex you further, could anyone have that high of a pain tolerance? It’s certainly possible.

“Giorno… I’m sorry if I’m being presumptuous, but, can I ask what happened?” you ask tentatively, biting your lip to quell any anxiety. Your crushing interest is too much to deny any longer, but you hope the question doesn’t make him uncomfortable.

Giorno doesn’t show any signs of offense, instead closing his eyes as if he’s recalling the events himself. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Your shoulders slouching, you find it difficult to mask your disappointment in not learning what happened. Your mind had gone wild with countless possibilities that might explain his injury, but it makes sense he wants to keep it private.

Sensing your defeat, Giorno decides to indulge you some. “It was something like a fight, if memory serves.”

‘Aha! Theory number two was right!’

It still doesn’t explain his bizarre indifference to pain, but it’s enough to sate you for the time being. Your eyes light up while a realization dawns on you.

“You must be starving! I don’t have that much in terms of food, but I could order you some take out if you want. Oh, and I have a little bit of tomato risotto that I was experimenting with yesterday,” you offer, clasping your hands together. “Okay, maybe experimenting isn’t a good word for it. I followed the recipe, I promise, if you wanna give it a shot. Otherwise there’s this great pizza place nearby, they should still be open… I think I have a coupon for it somewhere...”

Cutting yourself short, you realize that you had started rambling again. Most would find it an irritating habit, but Giorno never seems to mind. He looks at you with his full attention, truly taking in every word you’re saying.

“Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry,” Giorno agrees, eyes glancing to the risotto you put down in haste earlier. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to try this risotto of yours.”

You’ve rarely met anyone as polite as Giorno. There’s something about his character that emanates self confidence, yet remaining courteous. While leaving to warm up the rest of the risotto, you wonder how someone as mild mannered as Giorno got into a fight.

‘Happens to the best of us, I guess.’

Giorno eyes your risotto with interest, thanking you once more before taking a bite. Leaning in slightly, you try to gauge if he finds your half decent cooking skills impressive. He shoots you a smile, humming lowly.

“Your experiments paid off. It’s delicious, thank you.”

You can’t help but return his smile, beaming at his praise. No one’s ever complimented your cooking before! It always feels good to be acknowledged, and you feel like he’s being genuine. Before you know it, Giorno finishes the remainder of what’s left. His eyes glance around the room, as if looking for something.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Oh!”

Springing up, you lightly hit your head at having forgotten to mention the time. Of course he wants to know that after waking up, anyone would! Looking down at the phone in your pocket, you read off the time to him.

“It’s currently 7:24,” you tell him, before pausing. “P.M, don’t worry. You weren’t out for that long.”

Giorno doesn’t respond with the same briskness from before, his eyes remaining on your wrist. Looking down to see what might have caught his attention, your breath hitches as you realize your sleeve had lifted up enough to reveal some bruises. Biting your lip, you swiftly pull your sleeve down and look up to see Giorno looking with an unreadable expression.

“I-I burnt myself the other day when cooking,” you lie in a quiet murmur, before going to deftly change the conversation. “Anyways, don’t worry about it. I’ve been treating it. Do you have anyone you could contact? Family or something?”

Giorno parts his lips momentarily, as if wanting to contest you. His facial features relax, eyes closing while he considers your words. “I do have someone, yes.”

A sense of relief washes over you that he drops the previous subject. Leaping at the chance to put it further behind you, you continue the conversation.

“You can use my phone if you’d like to call them.” you offer, glancing down towards your pocket once more.

“There’s no need to trouble yourself,” Giorno responds with a gentle smile. “I can use a payphone.”

Nodding your head in affirmation, Giorno goes to stand up once more. From your previous interactions with him you realize there’s no point in chastising his lack of rest. He’d have to leave sooner or later anyways. Could the pain killers have kicked in that fast?

Giorno grabs his empty bowl along with yours, leaving you to blink in minor confusion.

“Allow me to wash the dishes for you at the very least.”

It doesn’t seem like a question, and if he’s moving this freely without clear signs of pain you might as well let him. Returning his friendly smile, you get up to show him to your humble kitchen. It’s an odd sight to say the least, watching as Giorno meticulously washes the two bowls and corresponding silverware. His gaze briefly flickers to your drying cups, before returning to his task.

His outfit makes you wonder if he’s well off. You’ve never seen any fashion quite like it before, finding the ladybug fashionings to be of particular interest. It’s something to remember him by at least.

Drying his hands with a towel, Giorno returns his attention to you. You realize that as it grows darker outside he must be feeling more inclined to head home. It’s a bit of a lonely aspect. Even though you haven’t known Giorno for long, he’s pleasant and considerate of you. It sparks a warm feeling within.

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, [First]. I don’t want to impose on you anymore than I already have though.” Giorno gives a slight bow of the head, to which you laugh airly. You can’t think of anyone that’s ever spoken to you with such formal language, but it seems to suit him well. His voice has a pleasant ring to it as well, low and flowing like a river.

Pushing aside your personal feelings, you decide to make the parting easier for the both of you. All good things must come to an end. Even if the beginning of your meeting wasn’t good, you still found your time with him quaint.

“You haven’t imposed! You’re actually really nice to talk to.” you respond, almost surprised by your boldness. Giorno’s eyes widen for a moment, seemingly taken aback by your compliment. Clearing your throat, you go to change the subject as your face warms.

“I, um, can walk out with you if you want.”

He smiles.

“Please do.”

---

Your abrupt meeting of Giorno, and subsequent taking care of his wounds, has been on your mind the past few weeks. You often wonder how Giorno is doing as time goes on. Hopefully he’s been changing his gauze and reapplying antibiotics, even if he didn’t admit to being in any pain. Someone as kind as him doesn’t deserve to get an infection, but you doubt he’d let that happen for some reason.

Life goes on all the same.

Within the whirlwind that is life, you’ve felt that your waitressing job has been easier to enjoy. While your boss has never been especially cruel to you, any mistakes you make are overlooked as if they never even occurred. Along with that, even tips have been more generous. Karma was never something you thought about much, but maybe you’re being repaid for your caring deed?

The only misfortune you ran into was noticing one of your cups was missing. But as random as that is, items like that can be easily replaced.

It’s all still weird though, you reason. It’s as if something is off, but you can’t figure out why. There’s been a new regular that you had never seen before appearing in this time as well. You never caught his name, but his outfit made him hard to forget. Donning a light blue sweater crop top, and red hat with a variety of patterns. He always treated you well, and tipped even better.

After a long yet fulfilling day of work, you had begun the trek back to your apartment. The sky is more overcast than you normally prefer, but the mild weather makes up for it. Spring is always a delightful season, allowing you to walk around more than in other times of the year. The wildlife returning from winter makes you feel at ease, hearing birds chirping on the way home.

Having finally entered your apartment, you haphazardly throw your keys onto your coffee table. While walking into the kitchen to get a drink, you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend at your small dining room table. You freeze at the sight, taken aback.

“M-Matteo?” you inquire with a shaky voice, heart racing. The person in question looks up upon your arrival, his head resting on his fist. “How did you get in?”

“Did you really forget? You gave me keys.”

‘Have I? He’s probably right…’

It’s uncommon for him to come over without notice, the two of you haven’t gotten to see one another much lately. You didn’t want to pester him for the details, but he’d been leaving for large chunks of time without returning your texts or phone calls. He had murmured something about needing to take up an extra job to you, if you remember correctly. Which doesn’t make much sense since he’s a manager at his current one, but you didn’t press on it.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Matteo greets, getting up to get you a water. You hold your breath as he approaches you, eyeing his hand as he outstretches it towards you. Taking the water, you allow the cold liquid to calm your warming body.

“Not so much as a thank you?”

You bite your lip. “Ah, I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Matteo hums at your response, before returning to his former place at the table. You wrack your brain with thoughts of what to say. Maybe you can offer to make dinner? He normally says you should when he comes over, but you haven’t bought groceries for the week yet.

“--[First]? I was asking about your day. Are you listening?” Matteo interrupts your train of thought, tilting his head at your distracted person.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” you offer in response, sheepishly sitting down in the seat across from him. “It’s been good, actually. Work has been I mean. How about you? I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

Matteo lets out a long sigh. “Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover it. Listen, I don’t want to beat ‘round the bush. I could really use a favor from you.”

“A favor?”

He leans back in the chair, steepling his fingers together. It isn’t often you’ve seen him this serious, he normally has more of a carefree air to him. It serves to further put you on edge.

“I’m in deep right now. Passione raised their protection fee for no fucking reason! They want 30% of our revenue now, the pricks. Acting all high and mighty just cause they have some manpower,” Matteo grits his teeth, shaking his head. “I didn’t believe ‘em. Who else pays such a high fee? No one, that’s who. So I didn’t take ‘em seriously. I just paid the amount they wanted before.”

Matteo runs a hand through his hair and grimaces. “Guess the fuckers were serious. Some asshole in a hat came in the other day and roughed me up, saying I need to come up with 3,000 or I’m dead. Needless to say I need that money now.”

Processing Mateo’s urgent plight, you find yourself not too concerned for his well being. While it doesn’t make any sense for Passione to have increased their protection rate on only a single business, it was stupid of him to not comply with their new demands. Matteo doesn’t take your silence in kind.

“I don’t have that kind of money. My credit’s still fucked, so loans are a no go,” Matteo grumbles with disdain. “Listen [First]. We’ve been together for what, a year now? I really need you to help me out on this. I know you’ve been saving for your school stuff.”

Inhaling sharply, you can immediately tell where this is going. Your stomach drops as he continues.

“You’ve gotta have something around that right? Bail me out this once. I’ll pay you back within a few months, I just wasn’t expecting this shit.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s asking you for your help, rather than demanding it. Pursing your lips, you feel a bead of sweat going down your temple. Aside from Matteo’s agitated tone, he doesn’t look like a man on the brink of death. Confidence still radiates from his person, his posture upright and gaze free of sorrow.

He already thinks you’ll say yes.

“Well?” he asks with clear impatience.

“I-I don’t know. That’s… that’s my entire savings. I have rent due on Friday, and my next paycheck isn’t for another week,” you gawk, looking down at your hands as Matteo narrows his eyes. “I can help with some of it. There’s got to be someone else you can ask right? What about some of your friends?”

Matteo pinches his nose, shaking his head in disbelief as if you had asked something stupid. “You think I haven’t asked? None of ‘em want to give me shit. You’re all I’ve got. Are you really willing to let me die?”

“No, that’s not what I--”

“I never took you for someone like that,” Matteo interrupts you, his voice lowering. “Really… I’m just… wow.”

Lips trembling, you ball your hands into a fist by your side. None of this makes sense, the weight of the situation crumbling down on top of you. The thought of all of that money leaving your account for an undisclosed amount of time makes you pale, stomach fluttering with anxiety. You’ve worked so hard, sacrificing so much. And if he doesn’t pay you back...

But Matteo isn’t finished with you yet.

“It makes sense you don’t trust me. I know I haven’t always been the best to you, but know that I try. I’ve tried so damn hard for you,” he begins, looking you dead in the eye. “Just help me out this once. You can stay at my place, to hell with your rent. I don’t have much time.”

An unwelcome lump forms in your constricting throat, as you avert his gaze. There really isn’t any other option here, is there? All your hard work will have to go to keep him alive. You’re not close with anyone else in Naples aside from Matteo, your family living in the countryside. The entire reason you came here was to have a better college to study medicine under.

You’re startled by the sound of Matteo slamming his fist on your table, glowering at your indecisiveness. “Does my life really require so much thought from you?!”

“Some things don’t have much worth.”

Looking behind you in the direction of the new voice, shock overwhelms you at the familiar source. It distracts you from a small ladybug that lands atop your hand.

“Giorno...?”

Your tone is one of disbelief, if not confusion. Giorno looks the same as you last saw him, eyes calculating and ever serene. His outfit reveals his bare chest, yet not showcasing any signs of scarring where he was once wounded. Everything feels so surreal, but you’re brought back to reality at the sound of a chair scraping.

“The fuck? Who is this?” Matteo demands from you, sensing your familiarity. He stands abruptly, clearly looking for a fight with the intruder.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” Giorno speaks only to you, as if you were the only one in the room, seemingly caring less for Matteo. Words escape you entirely as you stare in bewilderment, but you snap back into reality as Matteo stalks over towards him.

“I don’t know who you are, but get out before you regret it.” Matteo growls, lunging for the collar of Giorno’s suit. Giorno steps to his right with ease, dodging the attack as if it were nothing. Matteo stumbles with his movements, snarling in his direction. You feel your heart racing.

“Matteo, stop it, I know this person!” you exclaim, hoping to avoid any violence. Matteo doesn’t so much as look at you, a part of you wonders if he heard you at all. You know Matteo’s history, and that he’s been involved in scraps often. Even if you weren’t very close to Giorno, the thought of him being hurt by Matteo makes you feel sick.

“Are you with Passione?” Matteo asks tentatively, a sudden realization dawning on him. His former fighting stance relaxes, stiff muscles replacing it. It’s almost a talent how he changes his demeanor as fast as a finger snap. You can already see his plan shifting, most likely looking to bargain with Giorno should he answers yes.

But Giorno looks at Matteo with apparent disinterest, a visage you’ve never seen him take before. Did they have some kind of history you didn’t know about? It doesn’t look like Matteo even knows who he is. Nothing makes sense.

“It’s not like it’ll matter if you know the answer.” Giorno responds, voice indifferent. His once lively eyes take a duller tone, causing a shiver to go down your spine. The way he speaks to you is full of warmth in comparison.

Matteo takes a challenging step forward, Giorno unflinching. “Listen! I��ll have what you want soon. I thought I had more time.”

Giorno doesn’t even pause to consider Matteo’s words, having already made up his mind.

“Normally, yes, you would’ve,” Giorno waves his hand dismissively, tone flippant. “Until I learned of your… association with [First].”

Matteo stares in pure confusion, jaw slackening. “My girlfriend? What are you on about--”

It happens too fast for your eyes to process.

Giorno doesn’t move a single muscle, yet an overwhelming force strikes into Matteo’s torso. He lunges back, eyes widening immensely at the sudden impact. You cry out, watching as his lifeless body hits the wall with a sickening crack. What even attacked him?! If it weren’t for the clear impression of a fist on Matteo’s chest, you’d have thought it was a strong gust of wind.

Giorno stares at you with a frown as you run over to Matteo’s crippled form. He coughs out globs of blood, barely capable of even lifting his head. Repeating his name, you find Matteo ultimately unresponsive other than wheezing desperately for air.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you flinch as you realize Giorno is behind you. Breathing shakily, all you can think to do is ask for mercy. Why is he doing this? What does he gain from this? The way he’s acting strictly contrasts the polite manner he showcased himself as being to you.

Was he even human...?

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, mio cara. Don’t bother yourself with him, I’m not letting him die anytime soon.”

The affectionate nickname falls on deaf ears, your focus returning to Matteo’s now dulling eyes. Giorno’s assured phrase of prevent Matteo’s death doesn’t make sense.

“H-he is going to die! We need to do something, please!”

Giorno lets out a disappointment sigh at your further insistence, his frown deepening further. You get the feeling he’s irritated, which further serves to confuse you.

“I hate having to repeat myself. I told you, I’m not letting him die yet,” Giorno leans down next to your shivering form, his arms wrapping around you. “It’s a shame you had to see this, but it serves as an important lesson. Ingrain it into your mind.”

“W-what… what are you talking about…?” your voice is nothing but a whisper, waning in strength. Giorno runs a hand over your back, attempting to soothe you. You flinch at the unwelcome touch, eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

“He’s nothing to cry over.”

Giorno’s close, way too close. His lips next to your ear, warm breath ghosting over your glistening skin. The hand that was rubbing on your back worms its way to your bruised wrist, causing you to wince in pain.

“He did this, didn’t he?” Giorno mutters, thumb caressing the purple and blue skin. Unable to hold your tears back any longer, your face dampens as they fall from your eyes. His disgust is evident at the mere thought of Matteo, for reasons beyond you.

Giorno’s touch is light as a feather, deliberate. A foreign sensation tingles in the area of your skin that he touches, the sight of the bruises diminishing. Instead, soft new skin takes its place before your very eyes, Giorno seemingly content with the action.

“I don’t understand… why are you doing this...”

“For us, bella.”

You feel like you’re floating. Everything is so far away, yet remains too much to understand. Giorno gingerly picks you up, smiling gently as your body goes limp against his own. He never allows his hands to leave you, gladly allowing you to steady yourself against him. Giorno prompts you to walk out of the kitchen, as if nothing that transpired has an effect on him.

“There’s a car waiting for us out front, [First]. Will you be good for me and come along without any difficulty?”

Words escape you entirely. All you can manage is a weak head nod, afraid of what will happen if you resist. The fear for Matteo’s well being is now replaced for fear of your own, as an unknown future lies ahead of you.

Fluttering his eyes shut, Giorno presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. His hands gently wipe away the tears leaving your eyes, shushing your sobs. Giorno then slowly leads you to your door, putting care into keeping you steady.

“I have so much I can give you, amore. Let’s put all of this behind us, and start our new relationship off on a good note,” Giorno runs his hands through your hair, deeply breathing in the scent. “I am Giorno Giovanna, Don of Passione. And I want nothing more than to have you love me.”

#giorno #Giorno Giovanna #giovanna giorno #giorno x reader #yandere giorno #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere reader insert #giorno giovanna x reader #yandere imagine #yandere scenario #my stuff #commissions #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #jjba #yandere jjba

687 notes · View notes

buckyreaderrecs · 4 years ago

Text

Gloxinia

Summary: You’re a witch that helps The Avengers a couple of times. Bucky Barnes finds some sort of happiness and healing in you, and the flowers you surround yourself with. He’s a boy in lalalove.

Words: 5,808 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, James 'Rhodey' Rhodes, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame never happened), witch!Reader, enhanced!Reader, she/her pronouns for Reader, other characters mentioned but not in scenes, recovering!Bucky, witchy vibes, evil werewolf clones, sassy Sam Wilson, LOTS of flower symbolism, Avengers compound, fluff Warnings: reference to having nightmares but nothing serious My masterlist.

Note: This was written for @the--sad--hatter and her Flowers For My Followers writing challenge. Kara, I love you, and I hope you love this. Also shout out to @vibraniumwitch for being my witchy inspiration always. Also, sorry for probably wrong geography stuff; I'm Australian and don't know shit about New York/Upstate New York loooool.

Gloxinia

For any of The Avengers to be sceptical of witchcraft seemed, to be perfectly frank, really fucking stupid. Each of their lives had been wrapped up in magic and mystery, so to have them hold back smirks and send mocking glances across the table at each other was not exactly what you had expected.

To be fair, it wasn't all The Avengers making fun. At the head of the table, Steve Rogers watched with curiosity, although he was sure his expression read as neutral. Sam Wilson took the seat closest to you, asking the same question phrased multiple ways.

"So, a witch witch?" "Is it more Sabrina or Charmed?" "Really just making a potion, huh? Like a real life witch…"

He broke the tension, which would have been otherwise unbearable.

Tony Stark, Clint Wilson, and James 'Rhodey' Rhodes had been reduced to acting like teenagers at the mere suggestion of brewing a potion. You'd been hoping for a different audience. Specifically, Wanda Maximoff. She would have believed you. Alas, you had not been gifted your choice in company.

"Alright, Broom-hilda, show us what 'cha got," Tony said, growing impatient.

"Do we really have to drink that?" Clint added, peering into the bowl you'd been mixing things in. "Won't turn our skin purple? Grow an extra limb?"

Rolling your eyes, you held up a plant. "Magnolia, for perseverance. Or, add the petals to a salad for a bit of extra colour," you explained in your best infomercial voice.

Sam snorted, then began to poke around the rest of the ingredients. "What’re the orange ones for?"

"That's nasturtium. For conquest."

When you'd finished the mix, you let it cook over a small, portable heat pad. Modern witch, and all that. Hot off the stove, you poured the liquid into a collection of small, glass bottles.

"Let it cool, cork them, then drink it when you need it," you announced, matter-of-factly.

When Natasha Romanoff had exhausted all of her routes of gathering information, returning with only your name, everyone was close to admitting defeat. The battle was lost, surely, if a witch's potion was the only hope… But Steve wasn't in the business of giving up. He sent Sam to bring you to the compound.

Steve explained that they had located a source of power. Ancient, unstable, highly sought-after power. And even with all their superhuman strength and superhuman speed and superhuman everything, they couldn't get to it. Maybe, though, with what was best described as a performance-enhancing-witchy-substance, they had a fighting chance.

The room looked over the bottles.

"How do we know if it'll work?" Sam asked, picking one up and inspecting it.

"We don't," Tony answered. It was less an attack than a statement of unfortunate fact.

"You'll just have to trust me."

Sam nodded, and watched as you pulled a sprig of yarrow and put it into his bottle.

"Yarrow, for healing," you told him.

"Yeah, ah… Can I grab some of that too?" Rhodey asked. "Falc ain't the only brother without super healing."

…

"No,"

"But-"

"No. I'm not gonna be a magical drug dealer to-" but Sam cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Y/N, Y/N, you got it all wrong! I don't want that nasty nasturtium stuff. Nah, I'm thinking… truth serum?"

"Truth serum," you repeated deadpan.

"Yeah, nightshade," he says nodded and wriggling his eyebrows. He was doing his best 'good kid does extra credit' impression.

"You googling 'truth plant' isn't impressive," you said. That elicited a snort from Sam's companion.

Standing next to him, silent and appearing impatient, Bucky Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. But the snort had dragged him into the conversation.

"And what do you want?" you asked him.

"What?"

"Love spell. Vampire tracker. Or just an easy bottle of truth serum too?"

Bucky blinked at you, then slowly shook his head. "I've had enough serums to last me a lifetime… I'm just here 'cause Steve said you'd kick his ass before you gave him any…magic or whatever," he answered, motioning to Sam.

"So Rogers got all the trio's brains, huh?"

Sam and Bucky frowned in unison.

"Look, we normally just use Nat for this kind of thing. But our guy ain't talking, and we need the information," Sam tried again. "She's out of town, and Wanda's taking a break from getting in people's heads."

Being called in to brew superhero steroids as a once off was one thing… Having the Falcon and the Winter Soldier show up on your doorstep at 11:00 pm was another. However, the men looked desperate.

Sighing, you looked at them. "Fine. Come in. I might be able to help."

You lead the men through your living room, overlooked by a small kitchen. Their faces told you a lot. "You were expecting a magic cave? Portal to a hut in the middle of a forest?"

"Yeah, kinda," Sam replied, casually shrugging.

"Do you live in a nest?" you asked him.

Bucky chuckled.

"Alright, I get it. The witch thing isn't always literal."

But that's when you pulled a dark purple velvet curtain back, revealing a room you referred to as your office.

"Woah," Bucky whispered to himself.

"Now, see, this is what I'm talking 'bout!" Sam exclaimed, looking around the room in awe.

The small, windowless room was framed by floor to ceiling bookshelves on three of the walls. Stuck between books were trinkets and oddities. Against the fourth wall was a table covered in dried herbs, potted plants, and other things neither Sam nor Bucky could identify.

"Sit," you instructed, pointing to the round table in the centre of the room. There were scorch marks and deep gashed in the wood grain. Bucky traced them with his right hand.

As they pulled out chairs and sat, Sam pointed, "Is that a microwave?"

"For heating potions… and hot pockets," you explained. "So, how much can you tell me?"

"Officially - nothing. Unofficially - your magic juice helped save the world a month ago, so, whatever you need to know," Sam answered.

"Okay. And, none of those C.I.A. psychotropic L.S.D. drugs are real? No secret truth serums invented by Bruce Banner?" you asked, more out of interest than need-to-know.

"If they do, they ain't telling us," Sam said.

He explained that they had a man in custody. The man knew a date and a location, but he wasn’t cracking in interrogation and time was running out.

"Sounds very spy T.V. dramatic," you mused.

"But it's real life," Bucky said.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at him and his serious expression. "Okay, so what's meant to happen? On the date or whatever?"

"You'll sleep better not knowing that," from Bucky, his expression remaining the same.

You trusted him to gauge what you should and should not know. Nodding, you turned around and began to look for the things you needed. The men watched, leaning over the table when you put things on it.

"I don't do magic on other people. It's a line we don't cross. So, no truth serum. What I can do is try to pull the information you need from somewhere else. Bring it here," you told him.

When you joined them at the table you smiled at their matching faces; furrowed brows and darkened eyes.

"You're sure he knows what you need to know?" you asked. They nodded. "Do you have anything of his?" Sam frowned, shook his head.

Bucky thought for a second, then pulled a knife out of somewhere. "Haven't cleaned this yet. Might still have some of his blood on it,"

"Disturbing, but okay," you said, taking the knife and putting it in the wooden bowl in front of you.

The room went silent as you picked white chrysanthemum petals off a fresh stem and dropped them into the bowl. Begonias followed, then basil. Truth. Knowledge. Success.

"One of you has to be the vessel,"

"The vessel?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. The information needs to go to someone. It can't be me,"

"I'll do it," Bucky offered.

For a second you hesitated, wondering how white magic would work through someone with so much darkness in their past. But that was just it - it was the past.

"You need to wear this," you said, handing him a crown made of blackthorn plant. "It's like, a filter. Brings in good luck, and lets the universe know you're working for good."

Bucky looked at the thing in his hands, slowly putting it on his head.

"Suits you, man," Sam said, smirking. Bucky just shot him a look.

They fell silent again, watching you carefully place a few more things in the bowl before filling it with a liquid poured from a glass jar that looked like it once held pasta sauce. Everything sat swimming but still until you placed a hand either side of the bowl, then it started to simmer. It bubbled and popped and seemed to quickly reduce down, evaporating faster than it scientifically should have. Soon, all that was left was about shot glass worth of black, thick syrupy liquid.

"Where's my knife?" Bucky asked.

"Gone," you replied as you poured the potion into a cup. You handed it to Bucky and he looked at you apprehensively. "Drink it and focus on what you want to know… Think about the guy. And, think about what happens if you don't find out what he knows. Think about it so hard that it hurts."

Bucky nodded slowly but shot the liquid quickly. At first, he just sat there, almost like he was stunned.

"How long-" Sam went to ask, but you shushed him.

Suddenly, Bucky pushed back from the table, standing up and sending his chair flying. Sam followed, holding his arms out like he expected Bucky to fall.

"It's okay," you told Sam. "He's okay."

Bucky's eyes were shut tight, and he held his head, fingers curling around his blackthorn crown. He began to breathe heavily, mouth open.

"Is he gonna spew?!" Sam shrieked in a high-pitched voice.

Taking the empty wooden bowl with you, you stood and moved to Bucky. He went still and mimicked your exact movements of slowly lowering yourself to the ground and kneeling. Sam didn't understand how Bucky knew what to do; you'd not uttered a command.

You placed the bowl between you and Bucky. He leaned over it, and began to cough and pull something from his mouth. It was impossibly long, coming from somewhere deep inside him. He pulled and pulled, letting it slop into the bowl. When it was all out, he spat, then seemingly woke up, falling on his butt and backing away from the bowl.

"What the fuck," he said between heavy breaths.

Sam and Bucky watched you look through the muck and gunk in the bowl, no hesitation to your movement.

"What is that?" Sam asked, truly disgusted.

You looked over to Bucky, who was looking at the thing intently. He scrambled back over and took it from you. "I know…" he started, looking up at Sam. "I know… everything.”

…

You had dropped cutlery three times, but when it was almost midnight and no company had come, you were getting restless. In your office, sat at the table, you shuffled a deck and laid out cards.

The Hanged Man. The Hermit. The Hierophant, reversed. The Lovers.

Then, 11.11 and a soft knock on the door.

Bucky Barnes looked sleep deprived but somehow hopeful.

"I thought I might see you tonight," you told him, opening the door and letting him through. "Were you right? About the date and place?"

"Yes," he said, coming to stand in your living room.

"Good. What do Earth's Mightiest Heroes need now then?"

Bucky looked around. "Do you have any pets?" he asked.

"No. Do you?"

"A cat. Alpine... Thought you'd have one… black cat or something." He wasn't teasing, like Sam had.

"Black cat? Thought you guys were the ones with a black cat?"

Bucky grinned. "Funny. You're funny,"

"Thanks… You're not here for them then,"

"No," he said, walking over to the window where plants were everywhere. "Do you use all of these? For your magic?"

"Most of them, yeah. Like, these ones…" You moved to stand next to him. "They give strength,"

"Snapdragons," Bucky identified.

"Yep. And… Vervain are protective in nature, especially from enchantment." You picked a sprig of the purple plant, threaded it through Bucky's hair, behind his ear.

"What about nightmares? What helps with those?" he asked earnestly.

The room was illuminated by candlelight. A soft orangy glow lit up half his fast, casting the other half into shadow. You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands.

"A tired soldier… Sing him to sleep… A tired soldier… The devil's to keep," you sung gently, running your thumbs along his cheeks. "Sit. I'll brew you tea,"

"Tea?" Bucky asked, a little hesitant to be out of your hands.

"Magic tea," you clarified, rolling your eyes.

Elderflower for compassion and sweet-brier petals for healing. A little poppy and chamomile, and other secrets kept in your family for generations. A dash of Indian jasmine to finish. It glimmered as you swirled it in the teacup.

Bucky was on the couch, sitting up too straight.

"Take your boots off. Lay down," you instructed. He went to protest, probably say you didn't need to put that much effort in. "Please," you said, stopping the protest. "Let me do this."

Bucky followed your commands and took the teacup when offered. He skulled it like a frat boy in a bar trying to impress his mates.

"Now close your eyes. Sleep," you said, taking the empty cup from him.

Kneeling next to the couch, you softly ran your fingers through Bucky's hair and waited until he fell asleep before you moved to your own bed.

He was gone when you woke up.

…

"What? No broomstick?" called the unmistakable voice of Sam Wilson.

Standing at the open boot of your car, you looked up and watched him approach, Bucky trailing behind, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You stalking me now?" you asked, clocking the bunch of flowers in Sam's hands.

"Nope. Just waiting for you. Weren't home and we wanted to drop off a thank you, for the helping last week," he said, holding out the bouquet to you.

"So, the information was good?" you asked, pretending Bucky hadn't already confirmed it to you. His late night visit to you a few nights before was obviously not something he'd shared with his friends.

"It was good. You do good work,"

"Thanks," you said dubiously, but taking the flowers.

"We picked those out especially. This one is a gerball-"

"Gerbera," Bucky correct.

"Means 'you are the sunshine of my life' and this one is an orchid, for beauty," Sam rattled off.

"What about this one?" you asked, pointing to the yellow agrimony.

"Buck picked that one. What's it mean?" Sam asked, looking over to Bucky. Bucky was leaning against your car casually. He shrugged, pretended to not know agrimony was the gratitude plant.

"They're beautiful. You didn't have to," you told them, putting the flowers in one of the boxes in the boot of your car.

"You need a hand?" Sam asked, not waiting for a response. He swooped in and collected one of the heavy boxes. Bucky followed, picking up the other.

"Ah… sure…"

You let them carry your things inside, put them on the kitchen bench.

"More witch stuff? Eye of newt? That kind of thing?" Sam asked.

"If microwave popcorn and frozen lasagna is witchy, then ya got me," you laughed. "You're gonna be disappointed if you keep thinking like that, Sam,"

"You say that but I've seen behind the curtain. You're definitely witchy enough,"

"Yeah, yeah… So what do you want? You didn't just come to give me flowers," you asked, launching yourself backwards and up to sit on the bench.

You glanced over at Bucky, who was back over at the window and the plants. Sam clocked you looking, but filed that away.

"We've got an offer for you,"

"When you say 'we,' who exactly do you mean?"

"Us! The Avengers! Superheros!" Sam said, chest puffed out.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. "Nope,"

"You haven't even heard-"

"No. I'm happy doing what I do," you told him.

"I told you," Bucky chimed in, stopping at a gloxinia, something about its prettiness resonating with him. "What's this one mean?"

"Love at first sight," you said, biting your lip to hide a smile.

"Whatever you do doesn't come with the perks we have," Sam persisted.

"Also doesn't come with anonymity I kinda like,"

"Alright. I tried. Can't promise we won't be back for more help though. Like I said, you do good work... So, this lasagna. Fresh?"

…

"Well, if it isn't Broom-hilda," Tony said, arms open.

"I hope you're not expecting a hug," you replied, holding your own arms around yourself. Bucky snorted from next to you.

"Brumhilda?! A name derived from Brunnhilde, no doubt. I have a friend named-"

"Yeah, now's not the time for Asgardian tales," Tony interrupted a seemingly very excited Thor.

"Her name's Y/N," Bucky said to Thor.

Thor looked back and forth between Tony and you. "He thinks it's funny," you explained.

"It is. And I am," Tony argued.

You sighed, sat down in one of the conference room's chairs and began to slowly spin on it. "So, what am I doing here?"

When Sam and Bucky knocked on your door before the sun had a chance to rise and shine that morning, you knew it was going to be hard to say no to them. They both looked upset, and Sam was even free from his usual quips. As soon as you saw their faces, you began to nod. "Let me get dressed. I'll come," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Bucky pulled up a seat next to you, the rest of the room taking the cue and finding their spots around the large table. You recognised everyone, having met most of them. Clint and Rhodey nodded politely in your direction.

"Y/N," Steve greeted, sitting next to Bucky. "Good to see you. Heard these punks have been harassing ya?"

"Nothing she can't handle," Sam cut in, sitting on your other side.

"Truly sorry for them," Steve said, grinning.

You shrugged, looking at Bucky. "They're alright."

Tony cleared his throat. "Whole team isn't here yet, but they're coming… We're going to need all the help we can get."

...

"There's too many of them!”

"At least they're not evil flying robots!"

"Hey! I said I was sorry!"

"Cap, we've got to try somethin' else. Bullets ain't doin' shit."

"Wanda? Can you-"

"On it."

"Do you need me to go big? 'Cause I'll go big."

"Yes! Mr. Stark, can he go big?!"

From your hidden vantage point higher up the mountain, you watched the battle play out in front of you. Through the earpiece you listened to The Avengers et. al. try to work out what to do. It was true - they were severely outnumbered. The situation was going from bad to worse.

"Jesus!" you yelped as someone almost body-slammed themselves next to you.

"Sorry. Checkin' you're still here,"

"Where else would I be?"

Bucky shrugged, reloaded.

"What are they, Buck? I know a lot about a lot, but I've never seen anything like them."

You took another look through the M22 field binoculars you'd been issued. The monsters didn't look entirely… natural. Maybe, like many creatures of the world, they were made in a lab. They were men pulled apart, stitched back together with pieces of dog and wolf. Their claws ripped through protective gear and flesh like it was nothing, and they could communicate by wordless sound. It was almost howling, but more guttural and less fluid.

"They all look the same," you said.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, noticed that too. Exactly the same,"

"Exactly? Up close? Even the human parts?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "Yep. Clones. What're you thinkin'?"

"Clones..? Um, I don't know… I just… If I can figure out what they are then I can figure out how to help."

Sam dropped down on the other side of you, his wings damaged. He ripped the pack off his back and began to try to repair them. "If I knew we were gonna be out here fightin' fucking werewolves I would've packed the silverware instead of the vibranium."

"Werewolves?" you asked, pulling a small silk pouch from your bag. "Here. Use this to stick them back together,"

"Stick it back together? Y/N. Can't just glue an EXO back together-"

"It's not glue, Sam. It's bumblebee orchid, oak leaf, protea, and a bunch of other things you don't wanna know about," you explained.

"You really questioning her magic? Use her glue,” Bucky ordered.

Sam huffed but complied. And abracadabra, your witchy sticky goop held his wings together stronger than they were before.

Bucky and Sam stood up, reloaded and ready to rejoin the fight.

"Wait!" you called, suddenly having a thought. "What if they really are werewolves?"

"What?" Sam said.

"Weirder things have happened, right? Werewolves are real. So maybe…" Your voice trailed off as you tipped the entire contents of your bag onto the forest floor.

"Y/N, we don't have time-"

"Gimme a second. I know I have it here,"

"Have what?" Bucky asked, kneeling down and studying the contents of your bag too.

"Aconitum extract… in a bottle… Here!"

"Aconitum?" Sam asked confused and growing impatient.

"Monkshood. Um, wolfsbane. Bucky, are we too far up for you to get one?"

Bucky took your M22s and assessed. "No. Nah, I can get one,"

"Gimme a bullet."

Sam and Bucky watched you dip the bullet in aconitum while uttering any and every luck enchantment you could think of. Bucky loaded his M249 SAW, steadied himself and fired.

The monster went down.

All three of you held your breath and waited. Through the M22s you watched Steve approach the body, check it.

"It's… dead…" came through the comms.

…

It had been two weeks since the army of hybrid werewolf clones, so two weeks since you'd last seen Bucky. It had taken days to kill them all. You had to be flown out to find more aconitum extract. From the lab at the compound you were able to work with Bruce Banner to find better ways of delivering the wolfsbane to the clones. Once you had it, it was all over for those motherfuckers.

When everyone else arrived back at the compound, they were exhausted, covered in the thick ash generated by the massive fires it took to burn all the bodies. Bucky was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, but he mustered the energy to offer to drive you back home to New York City himself. You just sent him off to shower and bed, taking Tony's offer of a ride with one of his minions.

It had been two weeks, then a dream, a vivid and hazy dream. A white cat brought you orange blossoms, carrying a branch in his mouth. "Do you want me to plant this?" you asked the cat, and you knew he would say yes if it could speak. He watched you tend to the blossom, then he disappeared through an open window. You could feel the cool breeze against your skin, felt your hair move.

When you woke, it didn't surprise you to find Bucky sitting next to your bed, back to it and legs stretched out in front of him. The window was open, letting in an unseasonably warm morning zephyr.

"I just had a dream about you," you whispered, ruffling his hair.

Bucky looked up at you. He seemed sad. "Good dream or bad dream?"

"Good. Always good."

He nodded, trying for a small smile. "The fern… It meant I could come in, right?"

"Glad you got the message," you answered. Out on the sills of all your windows, you left ferns. They meant a lot of things - fascination, magic, enchantment, sincerity, and shelter - and you'd told Bucky they were his plant, back when he and Sam came to offer you a job with The Avengers. At the entry points to your home, they were an open invitation for him, a coded welcome mat.

"Didn't want to wake you," Bucky said.

"I'm awake now. What do you need?"

He thought for a moment. He needed a lot of things, many of which you could definitely provide. "Tea? Thought maybe you could mix some for me to take home. Maybe give to the others,"

"I can do one better than that. I can make everyone their own blend. It will be fun. Come on. I'll teach you how," you said, pulling the blankets away and getting out of bed.

Bucky stood, looking a little alarmed. "You don't have to-"

"I know, Buck. But I want to. Come on."

It took all day, but eventually you had packaged up individual tea blends for everyone. Bucky got a stash of his special sleepy tea, and he already looked more rested with it in his possession. You walked him to the door sometime just before 5:00 pm.

"Thank you," he said, quiet and reflective.

"Easy. You're always welcome here. Sam - not so much. But you - always," you told him, leaning against the frame of your front door.

"Might take you up on that,"

"Please do," you said nodding.

Bucky smiled, went to leave, but turned back like he was going to say something. You stood straight, patient. His brain was ticking, thinking something over. Deciding. Then, he moved. Quickly, he stepped back and pressed a fast but soft kiss to your lips. He was gone, literally nowhere to be seen, before you had time to say or do anything.

…

The Hudson River sparkled under the sunset. Bucky watched the colours reflect the scene, like one of Steve's paintings. He was lost in a daydream when Sam nudged him.

"Where you at, man?" he asked.

Bucky looked over at Sam and Steve, who were both eyeing him off suspiciously. They'd carried a couple of couches to the roof. Stolen Clint's beer and set up shop for the night. Pizza was on its way.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"You were thinking about her again, huh?" Steve guessed.

Bucky looked back at the river, ignored his friends. They laughed, returned to their conversation.

Later, when Sam had retired to his room, not able to superhuman heat himself, Steve moved over to lounge next to Bucky. He rested his head on Bucky's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"I think I love her," Bucky replied.

Steve laughed at the speed of the response. "I think you might too. All those girls before, and you never really loved any of them... Guess you stuck around to meet her,"

"Seems that way,"

"You gonna do anything about it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah… It's gotta be good though," Bucky said, only then realising the depth of his feelings.

"Wouldn't wait too long, pal."

….

Bucky took you up on your invitation, coming and going from your place frequently. Sometimes, you'd find fresh croissants left on your kitchen bench. Sometimes, you'd find him asleep on your couch.

How much he needed from you varied, but how much he was willing to give seemed infinite. You had to proactively stop him from becoming some sort of amazing housekeeper slash meal provider.

After about a month, he settled enough to be able to just exist around you. He'd help you pick the right leaves for the teas you made people. He'd disappear into your bedroom when you had clients over, reading their cards while Bucky listened in like it was a television series. It was easy being around him, and you were ready to be patient for a lot longer, but fuck were you itching for more.

The kissing was sweet, but very often brief. Bucky caught your lips in the moments between your magic and his profound awe. You did what you could to encourage him, but knew the ball was well and truly in his court. So, when he ushered you outside one sunny morning, you didn't really have much expectation.

"I thought you'd never ask," you said, face lighting up when you saw Bucky's bike out the front of your place. New York City was buzzing around you, but as soon as you watched him get on and hand you a helmet, you'd never craved the open road more.

All the other times you'd been to The Avengers compound, you'd traveled by air. It was quick. The ride took longer but it was so much better. Having your arms wrapped around Bucky, the feeling of the bike rumbling under you, it was something new, which was all sorts of remarkable. Being magic sapped a lot of the wonder from the world, ironically. Bucky was bringing it back.

At the compound, Bucky took your hand and lead you around the side, not going in. "I've, ah, got something for you," he said.

"You sound nervous,"

"Yeah. If you could just cast up a little spell to get rid of that, it would be great," he said deadpan.

You laughed while looking around for clues to Bucky's surprise for you.

Rounding a corner, it came into view. A garden. A proper garden, complete with white picket fencing surrounding it. It was like something out of Practical Magic, and all your childhood dreams.

"What is this?"

"It's for you. A place you can grow whatever you need. Or want," Bucky said.

In a state of genuine shock, you let go of Bucky's hand and covered your mouth with yours. You had never seen anything more spectacular.

At the single entrance to the garden was an arch. Ivy and honeysuckle covered it completely, like they'd had a lot of time to grow. You pulled a flower from the arch, reaching up to find a full bloom. "Honeysuckle petals are edible," you said, reaching out to Bucky. He let you feed him the flower. "Sweet, like the perfume. They symbolism devotion, or being 'united in love.' Kinda like the ivy on it. Ivy symbolises attraction."

Bucky smiled wide, his eyes sparkling as he watched you walk further in. "We tried to make sections, you know, for the different plants. Like, this part here has sandy soil for the desert plants," he explained.

"We?"

"Got a lot of help from the others,"

"I'll have to thank them," you said.

There were veggie patches and small fruit trees. Almost half the garden was designated to all the types of plants Bucky had seen you use in potions and teas. Dog rose, blackthorn, rosemary, euphorbia, snowdrop flowers, bells of Ireland, and welcoming wisteria. The raised beds were overflowing with plants, just about ready to bloom in an explosion of colour.

"This… This is incredible,"

"Figured your apartment doesn't really have the space. And you're welcome here anytime,"

"I’ll wanna be here all the time." The garden was what your magical ancestors could have only dreamed of. "I don’t even know what to look at first,"

"Well, maybe that," Bucky said, pointing to a birdbath, where butterflies were hovering over the water. The best part though, was a small sign sticking out the ground next to it that read For Sam.

You laughed. "Oh my god,"

"He was so grumpy about it,"

"Shouldn't have named himself after a bird then," you reasoned.

Bucky nodded, grinning. "And we put that bench opposite so you could sit and watch them."

Your eyes were beginning to tear up, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of love and effort surrounding you. "Buck… I just can't…"

"Oh! And, one more thing. This was Wanda's idea. Come on."

Bucky took your hand and lead you through the garden to the back to where a weeping mulberry tree stood in the corner. He pushed through the soft branches, revealing the manicured underside. A green, little cave under the canopy held secret another wooden bench. Bucky sat down, otherwise he'd have to bend. It was the perfect height for you though, but you sat next to him anyway.

From under the mulberry tree you could see the rest of the garden. All the plants swayed in the warm breeze, and the flowers popped bright and happy.

"How long have you been working on this? Some of those are grown well in,"

"You don't need to know any of that. Takes away the magic, don't it?"

"You mean, a magician doesn't reveal his secrets and all that?" you asked.

Bucky shrugged and nodded, leaning back into the bench a little more and putting an arm around you. Snuggling into his side, you breathed out and just soaked it all in. Your mind was caught between racing with ideas of all the things you could do with the garden and plants, and totally turning to blissful mush.

"I know ya never wanted to work with us, but I'm glad Nat found you. Glad I met you," Bucky said, his voice back to being a little bit shaky, nervous. "You've made my life better, you know? Not just with the, the nightmares, but just… everything. You make everything better…"

You knew he wasn't finished, so you stayed quiet while he gathered his thoughts. In the meantime, you threaded your fingers through his, rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand.

"I used to be so good at this," he said, huffing a little.

It made you giggle. "Used to be good at what?" you asked knowingly, sitting up and looking at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Y/N! I'm tryna' tell you I'm sweet on you and you're gonna give me shit,"

"Yeah, I am. I'm also gonna give you shit about the phrase 'sweet on you' too," you replied, laughing.

Bucky smiled, watching you laugh, just happy you were happy. When you stopped, he sat up and used both hands to fold the hair behind your ears. Holding your face in his hands, he tried to not grin like an idiot. He couldn’t hide the smirk.

"I love you. I'm in love with you," he said, voice finally dead certain.

"Yeah, the garden was a bit of a giveaway," you replied, quickly adding, "And that's good. 'Cause I'm in love with you too. Very completely."

Bucky made the kind of expression you'd pull at a basket of mewing kittens, or a puppy tumbling across fresh cut lawn. It was very, very kissable. So, you did want any self-respecting witch would do. You kissed Bucky Barnes like your life depended on it in the secret mulberry tree cave he had made just for you.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

My taglist (open): @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter @fairislesheets @vibraniumdaisies @cristie24

#mine #Gloxinia #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky/Reader #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky reader insert #Bucky Barnes imagine #Marvel #Marvel fanfiction

239 notes · View notes

leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Wedding Job

leverage 1.07

Nate: No. No, it's-it's not right. But, you know, uh, we're not detectives. And if you want to prove your husband's innocence, there are plenty of agencies I could recommend.

eliot and hardison share tired, annoyed looks and I felt that in my soul

- - - - -

Teresa: I understand. Thank you. Where did my daughter go?

Hardison:I think she was with Parker.

(Parker is teaching the little girl how to pick locks)

Parker: Go!

(they both begin to work on the locks, after a few seconds, the girl gets hers open)

Parker: 6 seconds! Give it up! Good job.

parker can be good with kids and it’s adorable

- - - - -

Hardison: Just take the mob out of it.

Nate: What? Take the mob out of it?

Hardison: Hear me out. Isn't this just a breach of contract?

Eliot: These guys had a deal, right? And your boy, Ray, he lived up to his end, but Moscone didn't. And for that, there's not a court of law in this world this lady can go to.

Parker: Which is exactly the kind of case we take

the ot3 immediately jumping in to support sophie’s idea

- - - - -

Hardison: We can't. That thing's a fortress, man. I clocked four armed guards, a Tikva security system. That thing's Israeli-Made. It's used to protect their military bases. It's unhackable. Oh, and then there's the FBI parked around the corner.

Parker: FBI? Where? (looking through camera lens)

Hardison: You see that crappy van that says "plumber"?

Sophie: Did you say "plumber"? That's their cover? Oh, that is so cute. It's like it's 1978 all over again

- - - - -

Parker: I saw some rubber gloves. What do you do with those?

McSweeten: Oh, actually, we've just been kind of blowing them up and playing volleyball. But, uh, yeah, if we need to do any kind of investigation…

big boredom during quarantine mood

- - - - -

eliot being proud of the one (1) thing he did on the computer

- - - - -

parker winked at mcsweeten that poor boy, I’d be smitten too

fic writers get on this, parker smells like jasmine

- - - - -

Hardison: All you have to do is rip them on my flash drive and run.

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot closes the door)

Eliot: I don't have to type anything, right?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: No, just plug it in. It does the rest.

Eliot: All right, 'cause you know I just learned the Photoshop thing you told me.

Hardison: I-I know. Baby steps.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: So I just plug it in.

(Eliot forces open a set of cabinet doors and they open, revealing stacks of cassette tapes. He looks at the flash drive in his hand)

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Now, audio files, they can take a little while to run, but, uh, the servers are pretty loud, so that should give you some cover.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: It's tapes.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Wha-hold, wait. Did y-you just say "tapes"?

Eliot: I just said "tapes"!

Hardison: Cassette tapes?

[FBI Offices]

(Eliot picks up a cassette case and taps it with the flash drive)

Eliot: Your little thing, it's not gonna work.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: But at least you ain't got to type nothing.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Hardison, how am I supposed to get out of the FBI offices with a boxful of surveillance tapes, huh?

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Punch somebody.

[FBI Offices]

Eliot: Oh, I’m gonna punch somebody

- - - - -

Nate: Can you break the codes?

Hardison: The codes? The codes to the Cayman Bank and Trust, where the Cali cartel and the African dictators keep all their dirty money? The ones that Moscone changes anytime he damn well pleases? Like, it's-c-come on. Dude, are you kidding me?

Nate: You know, you're-you're very negative lately.

Eliot: Yeah.

Nate: And the sass, it doesn't-doesn't help.

bruh lay off hardison

- - - - -

[audio of mob family fighting playing off of hardison’s computer]

Sophie: It's a bit like an opera, isn't it?

Eliot: You mean 'cause I want to run away

- - - - -

Nate: Sophie. Where are we at?

Sophie: Huh? I don't know, Nate. I think you need to ask yourself that question. You called me, remember? And now we're working together every day. I don't know what you want. And to ask me that dressed like a vicar? You're a very strange man.

Nate: No, no, no. I meant where are we at with finding the money?

Sophie: Oh.

chaotic sophienate

- - - - -

Nate: How are we doing? How's the search?

Eliot (chopping vegetables): I haven't started yet.

Nate: Okay, you know, I haven't gotten one answer I was looking for today. What is it that you're doing? What's going on?

Eliot: I'm cutting onion, deveining shrimp, uh, pan-searing some scallops. I've got 200 people I got to feed, all right? Back off.

Nate: Okay, okay. Hmm.

Eliot: What, you think the only thing I know how to do is bust heads?

Nate: No, well, yeah.

Eliot (demonstrating): Look, hold a knife like this, cuts through an onion. Hold a knife like this, cuts through, like, eight yakuza in 4 seconds. Screams, carnage. People are like knives. Everything is in context.

Heather (enters): Okay, hors d'oeuvres.

Eliot: Yes, ma'am. Stuffed mushrooms, pine nuts, kiss of basil, some sun-dried tomatoes, and the finishing touch, lemon juice. (gives her bite)

Heather (spits it out): Does this look like a food court? Does it? I want high-End food - High-End! What are you— (walks out)

(Eliot starts to go after her with the knife, Nate stops him)

Eliot: I know.

NEVER GET BETWEEN ELIOT AND HIS FOOD

also, eliot only becoming murderous when someone insults his food? iconic

- - - - -

Sophie (to bridesmaid): You look lovely.

Cindy: You don't think it makes me look fat?

Parker: Oh, definitely. I mean, why do you think I had to let out the waist? To make you look less skinny?

Sophie: She... she didn't mean that.

Heather: Oh, suck it up, Cindy. You'll be fine.

if someone did this to me I would c r y and that’s the truth lmfao

- - - - -

the ot3 eating pizza and laughing as nate verbally fucks himself over with sophie lmao

- - - - -

Hardison: Yo. No way in hell I could ever imagine getting married. I mean, it's just - It's just a piece of paper.

(Eliot, eating an apple, looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I take it you've never been married.

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Ever come close?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: What was her name?

Eliot: It was a girl I grew up with. But anyway, she married somebody else, so...

Hardison: Hot-hot damn, what did you do?

Eliot: What did I do? I liberated Croatia. (leaves)

Hardison: Oh, see, now, me, I would have just got fat and started up a comic-Book shop. That's you and me right there.

relationship foreshadowing in s1 we love to see it

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, I know that you're in charge of the bridesmaids' dresses, but why are you wearing one?

Parker: A bridesmaid's dress is like an all-access pass at a wedding. Plus, I kind of said something, and the maid of honor cried. And Sophie said I should make it up to her.

Hardison: By looking much, much better in the same dress? Yeah, you let me know how that goes.

Parker: Hmm, you really think I look good?

Hardison (pinning flowers on her dress): And now you're perfect

they’re BABIES your honor

- - - - -

(of course the trashy mom wears a sparkly white dress to her daughter’s wedding)

- - - - -

(Eliot walks up to the rest of the team)

Eliot: What is it? I got bacon on.

Parker: The Butcher is here.

Eliot: Does he have the baby lamb chops?

Hardison: No. The butcher of Kiev.

Nate: Think he'll recognize you?

[Flashback]

(flames surrounding them, the Butcher has Eliot by the neck and is trying to cut him with a meat cleaver. Eliot is barely holding him off)

Butcher: I kill you!

[Exterior House]

Eliot: Yeah, I think he'd remember me

I live for wacky eliot flashbacks

- - - - -

Nate: You're staying? Sophie, Sophie, it's the Butcher of Kiev.

Hardison: Have you ever been to Kiev? The cake-maker of Kiev would whup all our ass. This is the butcher.

Sophie: Uh-Huh.

this isn’t that notable, but it’s funny

- - - - -

parker smushed up against the glass door ,,, just imagine if anyone saw that lmao

- - - - -

eliot using a frying pan to fight the butcher of kiev,,, iconique

- - - - -

we need to start making a list of things that are Specifically Not Weapons™ that eliot uses as weapons:

for this episode, a frying pan, a whisk, an appetizer platter, the platter itself

- - - - -

Hardison (eating appetizer): This is pretty good, man.

Eliot: Thanks, man. I squeeze, like, fresh lemon juice on it.

Hardison: Cool. Cool.

(they follow Nate out of the kitchen)

eliot is so genuinely happy when someone finally appreciates his food, you can see it in his face ,,, he starts to love hardison just a little bit for that

- - - - -

Nate: Did you clear out Moscone’s accounts?

Hardison: I left him five dollars for socks

we love the team being petty

- - - - -

the girl immediately jumped into parker’s lap at the restaurant I’m soft

- - - - -

soft chef eliot serving his -friends- family is everything

- - - - -

I understand that this was technically supposed to be the third episode, so this would have been their first meal as a family and I stan them so hard for it

#eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage ot3 #leverage #leverage meta #nate ford #sophie deveraux #the wedding job #leverage 1.07 #leverage 1x07 #meta #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments

154 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Bleeding Heart | Adam x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Pairing: Adam x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary: It is the first Farmer’s Market of the season and Charlie hit the motherlode. Including some beautiful flowers. What she forgot was Adam telling her that Bleeding Heart has a powerful effect on vampires. Can she survive the night?

Warnings: Smut, Sex pollen, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough sex

It was the first Farmer’s Market of the year and Charlie was up early to head out. She pulled the pillow off of Adam’s head to kiss his lips. There was a bit of dried blood in the corner of his mouth. Adam sighed into her lips and Charlie slipped her tongue into his mouth. Adam pulled her onto the bed, tugging at her top, one of his old black vee neck tees tucked into short denim shorts.

“I can’t. It’s the first Farmer’s Market of the season and I want the pick of produce. I have to go.”

“No.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto his chest, latching onto her lips.

“Adam. Don’t be like this. I will have my cell phone on me at all times. The pepper spray is in my tote. It will be a year in the fall.”

Adam stopped kissing her and pulled back to stare into her emerald green eyes. Charlie smiled down at him. He still didn’t like her going out alone, particularly at night. But Simone explained to him that sheltering Charlie could do more harm than good. That normalcy would help.

“How long will you be gone?” Adam released his grip on the shirt and let her black Chucks touch back onto the floor.

“Two hours tops. If I will be any later, I will call. Will you answer?”

“Probably not.” he groaned, replacing the pillow on his head.

“Fine, then I’m leaving the pepper spray.” She dug through the canvas tote from when she started at the hospital that she used to carry home all her purchases.

“Hand me the phone.” Adam extended his hand and Charlie slapped the iPhone they purchased for him four months ago, over his protest.

“I changed the ringtone.”

“Great. To what?”

“Baby Shark, your favorite.”

“Fuck.” Adam groaned, muffled by the pillow.

“Love you, darling.” Charlie called out, giggling on her way out.

“Love you too.” Adam responded, tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

The Farmer’s Market was even better than last year, with a few bakeries and flower vendors besides all the produce. When Charlie arrived ten minutes after opening, it was already bustling. She sampled juicy strawberries before purchasing a flat along with several pints of blueberries from the same vendor. She arranged to pick it up on her way out. At another, Charlie snagged several bundles of asparagus for a risotto recipe she wanted to try, along with some fresh herbs, including basil, chives, and marjoram. She wandered into each stall, sampling breads, candies and produce. She treated herself to some decadent triple chocolate cookies, Adam liked to taste the chocolate on her lips.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.” One vendor called out.

Charlie spun to see colorful blooms spilling out of buckets. She smelled lilies and daisies, picking out beautiful pink, yellow and purple blooms for a bouquet. Her eyes landed on a dark pink bloom. She traced the heart-shaped drops.

“Lamprocapnos spectabilis,” The vendor offered. Charlie quirked an eyebrow. Adam rattled off Latin names more times than Charlie cared to count. Sometimes she would listen intently, while other times she smiled and nodded while thinking about the latest book she was reading or a rerun of The Vampire Diaries.

“Bleeding Heart.” Charlie responded. Adam talked about it one time, but she couldn’t remember the details of the conversations. She plucked several stalks and added them to bouquet while fishing out a few bills to pay for the flowers.

On her way out, she grabbed several bunches of beetroot for her morning juice on days Adam feeds on her or she collects blood to help replenish some nutrients. She glanced at her phone while heaving the strawberries under her arm. One hour and thirty minutes. Plenty of time to make it home before Adam panic called her. She didn’t want a repeat of the day the train broke down on her way back from lunch with Elise and Miriam in Boston proper.

Charlie hipped open the door after jimmying the key into the lock with her hands full.

“Adam!” she called out into the silence.

Charlie suspected he was still asleep, with several hours until sunset. She pushed aside the alarm clock Adam insisted he was “improving” to drop the flat of strawberries and her tote. She grabbed a pitcher from on top of the fridge, cursing for letting Adam putting it away the last time she made lemonade, rising on the tip of her tippy toes. Wiping off the dust, Charlie filled it up with water and dropped the flowers into it. She shifted some of them around before placing the pitcher on the table and set about prepping the vegetables.

Adam woke to smelling sauteed vegetables, basil, and garlic. When he rounded the corner, he smiled to see Charlie standing over the oven stirring something in a big pot of something delicious smelling. She bounced from foot to foot as she stirred and chewed on a cookie.

“What are you cooking?” Adam sidled up beside her.

“Risotto. Is the garlic too much? I can throw it out if it’s too much.”

Adam smiled and pecked her curls with his lips. “It’s fine. That’s an old vampire’s tale.” Adam turned her to kiss her lips. “Chocolate.”

“I got cookies at the market. Do you like it?” she smirked, knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

The spoon clattered to the floor as Adam pushed Charlie against the counter and lifted her to sit on it. Adam pushed her legs open with her hips and bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Ow, Adam.” He ignored her cry and pawed at her shirt, lifting it over her head. “Adam, darling, I have to stir the risotto.” Charlie pulled him off of her.

Adam panted, something he never did. His eyes were black, with only the slightest hint of ice blue on the rim. He lunged for her throat, baring his fangs.

“ADAM!” Charlie yelled and shoved him back with all her might. He hit the kitchen table as he stumbled backwards. The pitcher knocked over, spilling water and flowers everywhere. Adam turned around and snatched up the flowers.

“Where did you get these?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

Charlie blinked several times and took a few breaths before answering, reminding herself she was not back in that apartment.

“At the market. Please don’t yell at me.” she answered before sliding off the counter and picking up the spoon. “Why?”

“Fuck!” Adam stormed off and slammed the door of the second bedroom.

“Shit!” Charlie switched off the stove and went to check on him.

He locked the door when Charlie jiggled the handle. She knocked.

“Adam?”

“Go away!” he yelled, pacing the floor. He wanted nothing more than to rip the door off its hinges and throw Charlie onto the bed.

“No.” Her voice clear, cutting through the haze in his mind. “Tell me what’s wrong.” She yelled through the door.

Adam stopped in front of the door and pressed his head against the wood.

“Bleeding Heart.”

“I picked it up at the market. Lamprocapnos—”

“—spectabilis.” Adam finished. “Do you remember what I said about it?”

“Uh….” Charlie racked her brain to pull the information from her subconscious.

Adam slammed his fist against the door. “Damn it, Charlie!” he hissed. His cock strained against his pants. “Think sexual catnip for a vampire.”

“Oh… Oh!” Charlie’s eyebrows raised. “And you are…”

“Fighting the urge to fuck your brains out.”

Charlie smirked. She swiped her hand on top of the door frame until she found the small metal rod. “And that differs from any other Saturday how?”

“Not funny, Charlie.”

Charlie fiddled with the knob until she heard a click and turned the knob.

“I think it is fucking hilarious, Adam.” She stepped into the room.

Adam blinked. “How did you?”

Charlie held up the key. “Remember when you insisted on updating all the doorknobs in case I locked myself in here during an attack?”

“Shit.” Adam pivoted to turn away from Charlie. “You need to leave Charlie.”

“Well you and I both know that it is not happening. So take off your pants.” Charlie pulled her shirt off and unbuttoned her shorts, slipping them off.

“Excuse me?” Adam turned to find Charlie unclasping her bra wearing only a pair of panties. “Were you not listening? I’m sick. I could hurt you.”

“No you won’t.” She dragged her panties down her legs, bending at the waist.

Adam marched over and pushed Charlie against the bed, ass in the air.

“You are going to regret this, love.” Adam tugged his pants down. “I won’t be gentle.”

Charlie wiggled her ass. “I know, I’ve read your porn collection.”

Adam buried himself inside of her in one smooth motion. Charlie gripped the bed for support.

“Yes!” Adam hissed as he snapped against her.

“Fuck me.” Charlie muttered, dropping her head to the mattress.

“Over and over.” Adam grunted. He rutted into Charlie’s pussy at a bruising pace. Soon she fluttered around him.

“I’m cumming, Adam!” she screamed as her orgasm washed over her. Adam came, but his cock throbbed for more.

“On your back.” Adam ordered. Charlie scrambled to lie on her back. Adam crawled behind her and position his shoulders between her thighs.

“I thought you needed to—”

“I’m pacing myself.” Adam grunted. “So I don’t hurt you.”

“I don’t think you could to do that—”

Adam licked along her sensitive folds, causing her to shudder. He gripped her thighs and ate her up. His tongue darted into her, wanting to drink up every drop. Charlie moaned and gripped Adam’s head, her nails clawing at his scalp.

“Ah!!” she screamed as she came again and collapsed against the pillow.

Adam’s cock ached and burned. He gazed down on Charlie, her eyes fluttering closed. Adam wanted her. He wanted to fuck her until the bed broke and she screamed for him to stop. He wanted to drink from the scar on her neck until she passed out. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Adam crawled up to lie next to her. He fisted his cock with a fervor. His hand moved fast and with a purpose. He closed his eyes to focus on the pressure and friction. As Charlie’s tits pressed into his arm, he popped open an eye.

“Let me.” Her hand reached for his shaft. Adam’s eyes widened, and he stopped his stroking.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You need rest.”

“I’m fine and I’m not asking.” Charlie gripped his shaft and jerked up and down. Adam’s hand fell away.

“I…”

“Shh.” Charlie hushed. “Let me help you.” She swiped over his weeping tip and Adam bucked his hips.

“Fine.” Adam groaned.

Charlie smiled and shifted down Adam’s body. She took him into her mouth. Adam shifted to stand up, but Charlie reached up and pushed him back down. Her tongue swirled around and Adam gave up any idea of stopping her.

“Darling, yes!”

His fingers tangled in her curls, not pushing her head but gripping for support. Charlie’s one hand gripped the base of his cock firmly and the other cupped Adam’s balls. She hummed against him, sucking with an urgency. His ball tightened.

“Charlie, I’m—” Adam warned, but too late when Charlie’s tongue caught the underside of the head of his cock.

With a guttural moan, Adam came hard. His legs cramped tight while Charlie continued to lick, taking all of him in. Adam had to pull her off of him. His lips crashed against hers and they tasted each on their tongues. Salty and sweet. Charlie straddled Adam’s hips, and he sat up with her in his lap.

“I’m still hungry, my love.”

“I know.” Charlie’s voice hoarse. She wiggled, teasing her folds along him.

“Not just that. I am going to fuck you while I feed from your neck.” Adam wasn’t asking, but stating a fact.

Charlie nodded, curls bouncing. Adam wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her onto his cock, easing her down. Charlie hissed as her walls stretched around Adam.

“You are perfection, my darling.” Adam purred as he kissed down her neck. His tongue laved along Charlie’s scar. “You were meant for me.” She arched her back while Adam rocked and bucked underneath her. Charlie’s arms reached around Adam’s torso and she pulled herself as tight against his chest as she could.

Adam bucked inside of her, feeling Charlie contract around him. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he nipped at her neck and she let her head fall to the side. As his fangs sunk into her soft flesh, Charlie gasped and moaned at the overstimulation.

“Adam, please…” she begged, writhing in his grasp. Her release teetering on the edge and the sides of the world grew fuzzy as Adam fed.

“My love.” Adam released her neck and crushed his lips against hers. The taste of metal and sex on his tongue along his cock pulsing inside her tipped Charlie over the edge.

“ADAM!” she screamed as her nails scratched down his back. She clenched hard around him and as he came too, he sucked on the wound one more time.

The two of them collapsed onto the bed, a heap of sex, sweat, and flesh. Adam closed his eyes, sated at last while Charlie dozed off, her head on his chest.

When Adam woke, clear-headed and sore, Charlie was already gone from the bedroom. He found her in the kitchen, cleaning the giant pot which once held her garlicky risotto.

“That was a week’s worth of meals you ruined.” Charlie tsked, a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

Adam wrapped his arms around her, taking her sudsy hands in his. “I’m sorry.”

“An apology?!” Charlie feigned shock. “I need to write this down.” She wiped off her hands on the apron and reached for a small notebook on the counter.

“What do you even write in there?” Adam wondered out loud. He noticed the water and flowers from the table gone. Charlie would have been certain to throw them away outside.

“Notes.” she responded cryptically.

“What kind of notes? You aren’t writing more rules are you?”

Charlie clutched the notebook against her chest. “None of your business.”

In a flash, Adam snatched the notebook away and flipped through the pages.

“That’s cheating, Adam.” Charlie lunged for the notebook.

“I don’t fight fair, you know that.” Adam smirked. “Nibble behind left ear = rolls onto back.” Adam read out loud. “Are you taking notes on me?”

“No comment. Give it back.”

Adam flipped a page to see the latest note about Bleeding Hearts.

“How long have you been documenting?” Adam handed it back. Charlie tucked the notebook into a back pocket.

“Since the habanero incident.”

“I told you, I drank too much blood that day. The peppers had nothing to do with!”

“You writhed in pain all evening in bed, Adam. You’ve gorged yourself before. That was something else. You were unbearable.”

“So the notes?”

“Help me make sure nothing happens to you.” Charlie fidgeted with the edge of her apron.

Adam embraced Charlie, running his hands over her hair. “I thought that was my job.”

“Perhaps it can be both of our jobs.” she suggested.

“Now I like the sound of that.” He pecked her lips and pushed up the sleeves of his robe. “Let me help you clean up.”

Charlie smiled and shoved a towel into his hand. “I wash you dry.”

Adam reached for the now clean pot as Charlie turned her attention to the knives and cutting board.

“I saw your note, Charlie.”

“Hmmm?” She glanced over at him.

“We are not doing this again on Valentines.” His smile betraying his genuine feelings.

Charlie turned off the water and spun on her heels, ready to fight this out.

#adam #adam fanfiction #adam fanfic #adam fluff #adam smut #only lovers left alive #only lovers left alive fanfiction #adam x ofc #adam and charlie #the reluctants

11 notes · View notes

fieryfantasybooklover · 4 years ago

Text

Scythes And Stories - Chapter 6 - Twists Of Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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

“So you’re telling me that… you are the escaped princess of Solis?” Alastair said slowly, trying to parse out the truth of the words. Ariadne nodded. “And that this is the infamous assassin, the Lady of Death?” Thomas continued, cutting his gaze towards Anna. “I’m flattered that you’ve heard of me, all the way here in Luna.” Anna chimed in. She was currently sprawled across the couch of the boat’s hold, playing with a bone dagger. “Of course we’ve heard of you. You’re either more stupid than you look, or truly ignorant of how much you’ve been employed by the Luna Council.” Alastair smirked, clearly reveling in Anna’s widened eyes and shocked expression. “I’m going to continue this discussion, because obviously these two nitwits wouldn’t bother too.” Cordelia interjected, grinning in response to Alastair’s glare. “If I am correct in my assumptions, you are Lucie Herondale.” she said, gesturing towards Lucie. “That is correct.” Lucie said, mock-curtseying. “So you must be the mysterious and handsome stranger she eloped with.” Cordelia finished, raising her eyebrows at Matthew. “That would be the truth. I am so very pleased that the general knowledge of me is my dashingness.” Matthew said, tipping his hat. “Ignore him.” Lucie stage whispered. “His ego’s gone to his head a bit of late.”

“Well. This is certainly news to me. Everyone thinks you are dead, Princess, and nobody knows the whereabouts of you, my lady.” Thomas said, standing from his seat. “I do wonder what casualties shall befall me if my husband and I decide to give you shelter.”

“Oh I swear we’re nothing but the utmost fun.” Anna said with a smile as sharp as swords. “I can vouch for her!” Matthew chimed in, mischief in his eyes. Ariadne and Lucie sighed in unison as Cordelia snickered. “Yes but they don’t trust either of you, so shut up.” Lucie said, laughing. “All we ask for is shelter for a bit. The world outside is quite chaotic and it would be good to take a breath.” Ariadne said, eyes pleading. “We will take you in.” Thomas finally agreed. “Only if you promise to participate in our drinks night.” James said, mock seriousness in his voice. “You’ll have a far harder time convincing those two to stay away now that you’ve mentioned it.” Ariadne said, gesturing towards Matthew and Anna. “Now, if you wish it, we will retire to our chambers and cause you no more trouble.”

“Is there anything else we can get you while you stay here?” Thomas asked them as they strolled through the city streets. The brick roads were baked in the heat, worn by the feet of a thousand steps. Spices laced the air - nutmeg, basil, and fresh fruit. Thomas had quite quickly fallen into the role of gracious host as Alastair and Anna bantered and the others chattered. “Not unless you can bring back my long lost brother from the abyss.” Anna answered, and silence fell. Cordelia turned to Anna however, brows furrowed. “What does your brother look like?” She inquired, concentration deepening as she gazed at Anna as if she were a puzzle. “Well, he has purple eyes. And he would be around my age, maybe a bit younger.” Anna answered, clearly baffled. James stopped walking right in the middle of the street as him and Cordelia made eye contact. Thomas and Alastair also exchanged gazes. “Is there anything you four would like to share, or are you going to continue to communicate telepathically for the rest of the day.” Anna asked, shifting. She was quite unfamiliar with the warm blooming in her chest like a rose, shining and glowing like a weapon fresh off the forge. It was hope, hope that maybe she wasn’t crazy for the first time in her life.

Shaking herself, Cordelia turned to Anna. “Unless there’s a large amount of purple-eyed teenage fugitives on the run for our kingdom…”

“We have your brother. He arrived just a few days before you. Shivering and sweating and grinning like a banshee. He also claimed to have murdered the king of Solis. On that precedent alone, we allowed him to stay. He’s in his quarters now.”

Anna froze. She could feel the frost of shock spreading slowly over her skin as she struggled to form words. After all these years, all this time, she found him. Her brother with his love of science and the rare, genuine smile that always summoned a smile from her in return. A warm hand slipped into hers. Turning her head, Anna’s eyes met Ariadne’s. The silent encouragement in Ariadne’s eyes nearly brought Anna to tears. “May I- May I see him?” Anna asked tentatively, afraid some cruel god would snatch him away before she could see him. “Of course you can.” Thomas said, understanding in his tone. “Just this way. We’ll arrive back at the castle in approximately 15 minutes. From there, I’ll give you a guide to his rooms.”

“Thank you so much.” Anna whispered. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“None needed, Lady of Death. Everyone deserves loved ones to hold close. Sadly, sometimes the world has other plans. We’re just glad you made your way back to the hearth.” Alastair said quietly, and the others all nodded. From that point on, they were all friends. After all, a friendship forged when you are the version of yourself you hate to show are the strongest friendships of all.

“Mr. Christopher, you’ve a visitor.” the guide called, knocking on the heavy wooden door embossed with a crescent moon. “They may come in.” Came the response from within the room, and Anna’s eyes widened. If there had been any doubt in her mind, none was left now. The decades passed and sands of time could not erase the sound of her brother’s voice from her head. Anna opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The boy on the bed looked up, hair messed over his eyes and papers strewn over every possible surface. It didn’t take long for the question in his face turned into confusion, then shock, then wonder. All in the span of just a few moments. “Christopher?” Anna breathed, not daring to take a step forward lest he should evaporate like a mirage. “... Anna? Is that you?” Christopher replied, voice also quiet and strung through with lights of amazement. “Yes, it’s me. It’s Anna!” she replied, joy cracking her face. Christopher’s face morphed again then, and he stood and strode forward. Finally, after so many miles of pain and oceans of blood and battle, they were here. Embracing in a hug and words left unsaid flew, the pair had found each other again.

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too! I thought I’d never see you again….”

“I thought the same! They took me away, and I wasn’t able to look for you.”

“That is ok. I doubt you would recognize the me you found anyway.”

“The same could be said of me. It took me years of planning and work, but I finally struck back.”

“And I am more proud of you than I could say. I too have blood on my hands, but I hope that staining them deeper won’t ever be necessary again. If needed, I will fight to make it so.”

Drawing back, Anna examined Christopher and smiled deeply. “You’ve grown into a fine young man. A far throw from the gangly boy I knew. If only mother and father could see you now…” Anna trailed off as a shade of grey permeated the otherwise yellow bright moment. “And you as well.” Christopher said, his wonder saving the memory. “You’re glowing. You look happy. Content.” he added, grinning. “I am… I’ve found a life worth fighting for. But more about me later. We have much catching up to do, dear brother.” Dropping into the armchair by the fireplace, Anna relaxed. Christopher sat on the bed, only succeeding in making his piles of sketches even more messy. “Tell me. What have you been doing these past years we’ve been apart? I am quite certain it’s a grand tale.”

“Now I must confess I’m dying to know how you ended up on the run with the most infamous assassin in five kingdoms.” James said to Ariadne as the two, accompanied by Alastair, Thomas, and Cordelia sat in the royal common room. It was a set of large and comfortable rooms for the royal family to relax and have fun in. Ariadne chuckled quietly, thinking over the chaos of the tale herself. “I couldn’t hardly put it into words for you myself. I had been long since questioning my parents’ actions and the way they behaved around anybody without a large purse or a legitimate heir. I just didn’t know what it was I could do about it. I trained myself, yes. In bladework and poisons and a myriad of other things. But these skills languished in my arsenal, so to speak. I was not allowed to do anything I loved, contained in the palace and all it’s parties.” Ariadne paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The day they forced me into an arranged marriage with somebody I despise was my breaking point. Anna appeared, and it was like she was the escape I was looking for. The escape dressed in black with a dagger, that is.”

Cordelia’s thoughts raced, connecting the dots quickly and smothering her grin. The way Ariadne used Anna’s first name, how her eyes and voice softened at the mention of her, how she would always smile. The quick gazes and hidden laughs. Turning to James, she raised her eyebrows and nearly fell over laughing at his responding smirk. James was observant and had apparently also been quick to notice what she had. “I wish them all the happiness and wishes.” Cordelia vowed, before tuning her ears back into Ariadne’s story.

“So, I agreed to go with her. I set fire to the barracks before we joined up with Matthew and Lucie. Lucie was confined within a loveless marriage, so she was also eager to leave. Anna staged my death, and we set sail. Matthew delivered the note and… here we are.” Ariadne finished, leaninging back in her chair and smiling. “Not the most exciting tale in the books, but it’s my story, so I will cherish it within my heart.”

“On the contrary, I believed that story most riveting.” Cordelia piped up, leaning forward. “There remains only one question.” James said, standing. “Would you and Lady Anna be interested in joining us for dinner tonight? Christopher is also invited, of course”

“We would be most honored to have you.” Thomas added.

“I would be delighted to.” Ariadne smiled. “Anna is I’m sure still talking to Christopher, but when she returns to our chambers, I will extend the invitation.”

“Tell her there will be wine and games!” Alastair called to Ariadne as she exited. “I will tell her. I could never forgive myself and I doubt she would forgive me if she missed out on such an opportunity.”

Once Ariadne had vanished down the hall, the four sat in quiet. “I like her.” Thomas finally said, his voice betraying how deep in thought he was. “I do as well. I’m very glad she was able to find herself a place where she’s truly happy.” Cordelia added. “As much as I’d like to stay and gossip about our new arrivals, I’ve some matters to attend to.” Alastair said, standing. “I’ll come with you.” Thomas replied.

Sighing with a bit too much gusto to be believable, Alastair nodded assent. “I guess we will get these chores done quicker together.” he said, accepting Thomas’s extended hand. “Yes I’m sure that’s why.”

“O do shut up.” Alastair shot back, and soon their voices faded.

“Would you like to take a stroll with me, my fine warrior?” James asked Cordelia, eyes twinkling. “I would love to, James.” Cordelia replied, a small smile twisting her lips. “Well, then, let us go. The winding paths of the park await us.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” Ariadne said as she flopped onto the bed of their quarters. Matthew and Lucie had been assigned a door across the hall. “Life does bring us much surprise.” Anna shot back, kicking off her boots. “Did you and Christopher have a pleasing chat?” Ariadne ventured cautiously. “We most certainly did.” Anna replied, slipping back into that soft smile. “He’s grown up so much, Ariadne. So much. And it hurts and heals my heart simultaneously to see it.” Anna said, much quieter this time. “I know you grieve for memories lost, and I understand it. It is right to feel pain, right to grieve. Just make sure you’re not missing out on a chance to make new memories while grieving the past.” Ariadne said, once again gently holding Anna’s hand. “What did I do to deserve you?” Anna asked. “You set me free.” Ariadne answered, and Anna grinned. “And I am very glad I did. Now, what’s this dinner party you mentioned?”

“Oh yes! We are invited to dinner with Cordelia, James, Thomas, and Alastair. Christopher will also be there I believe. Alastair requests I tell you that there will be wine and games.”

‘Well in that case, I’m in.” Anna said jokingly, and Ariadne laughed again, a musical sound to Anna’s ears. “In that case, I will see you in about a half-hour at the party.” Standing, Anna kissed Ariadne softly before breaking apart and bolting for the showers. Sighing and filled with happy butterflies, Ariadne also stood and began to change. “It’s the beginning of a new age. And I’ll be damned if I keep wearing the shackles I just escaped.”

“To new friends, and old. To shining futures and pasts laid to rest in unmarked graves. This is now, and it’s for living and love. I give thanks for the wondrous new souls we’ve met, and the tales they brought with them.” Thomas toasted, raising his champagne elegantly. Everybody else raised their glasses in silent succession, toasting to everything Thomas mentioned and more. And then, the party began. It was in the private royal dining room, and it came with a ballroom. Thomas and Alastair had invited some other close friends and family, and Cordelia and James had done the same. All had been instructed on the situation, and planned to be discreet. A large number of suits and dresses had been delivered to Anna, Ariadne, Matthew, and Lucie, along with a note saying they could choose any one of the options. The rooms were full of life, shining and glittering and shifting. Champagne sparkled and fragrant scents of roasted meats and delicate creamed desserts rose up. Lively violin music flowed from the ballroom, and each person was a vision in velvet and satin, a walking kaleidoscope of dancing and laughing and color. Anna and Ariadne danced, quick as quicksilver and breathless with happiness. Anna was wearing a finely cut suit of ebony and snow white, while Ariadne was resplendent in a twilight blue gown that sparkled with stars and twirled as she did. “You are as gorgeous as an angel.” Anna called as she twirled Ariadne. “And you look like a goddess sent to Earth.” Ariadne called back, cheeks flushed with the blush of life. “Oh stop I might actually blush for once.” Anna said, bringing Ariadne close before dramatically dipping her. “What a sight that would be.” Ariadne mocked, laughing. “Maybe someday, I’ll get to witness this amazing phenomena.”

“You can keep hoping, Princess.” Anna replied, laughing as Ariadne lightly smacked her. “I think I will. After all, we’ve got plenty of time.”

The previous song had ended with a dramatic flourish, paving the way for a slower and more romantic piece. Alastair and Thomas slowly danced, staring into each other’s eyes. “What a week it has been. And it’s only been the first week.” Thomas said as the pair revolved on the dance floor. “Indeed. It might be awhile before we have any semblance of peace again.” Alastair replied. “Even you can't deny that you like our newcomers.” Thomas snarked back, no true bite in his voice. “I do, much to my dismay. I can admit they are fun and Anna especially is very fun. At least she knows how to drink and have fun, unlike you.” Alastair shot back, chuckling. “Oh shut up you. I'm plenty of fun.” Thomas said, affecting a wounded air. “I suppose you can be, but-” Thomas cut Alastair off and kissed him, holding him even closer. Alastair, drunk on happiness, held Thomas close as they kissed and the violins played a song of hearts broken and mended, souls torn and sewed back together.

Cordelia and James sat along the wall, laughing and joking with Lucie and Matthew. The squad had quickly become fast friends. Cordelia leaned forward and kissed James, while Matthew wolf whistled and Lucie slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up. The scene could be described as perfect, if such a thing exists. Music and songs and beauty and, most importantly of them all, new beginnings. What the future held was a mystery, and what the past held was unchangeable. But the now… well the now was whatever the people living in it made it. And everybody present at that party had chosen to make it something glowing with love and happiness and the treasured thing that is friendship. Twists of fate and acts of free will were what brought these people together, but it was their choice to stay. They could’ve shunned each other, torn themselves to bits and pieces while laughing. They could’ve betrayed who was supposed to be their enemies - stabbed them in the back and ran before they could be found by the accusing eyes of their victims. They could’ve done all of this, and more. But they didn’t - they chose to do the opposite. To nurture the compassion in their souls, the love blooming in their hearts. To make friends and lovers and family who would stand by them through the storm of the future, the unknown, and anything else that could be thought of.

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #arianna #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #Thomastair #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #jordelia #lucie herondale #matthew fairchild #lucieXMatthew #tsc #the last hours #megans writing

11 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

Note

for the drabble request event: Shunsui/Nanao, "there’s an overnight IT person at school who always answers the phone when i call about a problem with my computer and i totally have a crush on their voice and their exasperation and ALSO the bakery down the street is always running out of my fave scones and the adorable person behind the counter can’t hide their amusement and i think it’s super rude but also super cute AU" (from a prompt list)

So, normally, I am not a fan of Nanao/Shunsui, but I forgot to put it on my list of no-go ships, and as... convoluted as this scenario is, I actually had kind of a way to make it work. I checked with the asker first, and they said it was okay to put Juushirou in it, too. I feel like the point of the prompt list this was from was to have two possible ships in any case, otherwise I don’t understand at all how it would work. Anyway, I tried to make it shippy-but-only-if-you-squint on both sides, I hope it’s okay. I really just wanted to write about IT and scone flavors anyway.

Oh, also, I have no respect for Shunsui, so sorry for that, but at least I had fun.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💻 ☕ 🧁

Professor Kyouraku Shunsui of the Seireitei University Mathematics Department was very pleased with himself. He had timed his arrival at his favorite campus coffee shop for ten minutes before the end of a class period, exactly at the time when the students would be departing for their 10 o’clocks, but the 9 o’clocks had not yet finished. He had been able to score his favorite table, the one next to the front window, so he could watch the foot traffic. He’d laid out his workspace perfectly: laptop front and center; a fresh, fragrant Americano just off to the right, and his little notebook of handwritten instructions to his left. With everything laid out so nicely, he was sure to be very productive. He just needed to remake a few plots for that journal paper. It was only a week overdue at this point, but those editors got so antsy when you just went a smidge over a deadline.

Humming to himself, he ran his finger down the list of procedures as he completed each one. “Amazing!” he exclaimed when a black window popped up on his screen, his own username displayed and a little white cursor cheerfully blinking beside it. “Look at me, a computer genius! I should call my good friend Nanao. I’m sure she would love to hear how well I was able to follow her instructions.”

Shunshui wiggled his fingers, gleefully typed “matlab &” after the prompt, and hit “enter” with a flourish.

Nothing happened.

Shunsui tried again.

Once again, nothing happened.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he frowned, and picked up his phone.

He selected the main campus IT helpline from his contacts, then entered the extension for the math department special helpline, and then he typed in the super-secret extension for the math department special helpline manager.

It rang 9 times. Finally, a clipped voice answered. “Math Department IT Helpline, may I have your name, please?”

“Hellooooooo, Nanaoooooo! It’s meeeeeeee!”

“Your name, please.”

“I’m so hurt, Nanao. It’s your good friend, Shunsui, of course!”

There was a loud clacking of keys from the other end of the line. “And how may I assist you today, Professor Kyouraku?”

“Would you believe it, Nanao, but Matlab won’t open again?”

There was a long silence on the other end, and finally, a dragged out sigh. “What step are you on?”

“I made it all the way to the end of the steps. I even typed in the little ampersand, but nothing! I am all ready to make these figures, and Matlab just doesn’t want to get out of bed, you know?”

“So, you successfully used PuTTY to open a Bash terminal?”

“That’s right, I am very skilled at computers, you know.”

“If you say so. Close it.”

“Close it? But I just got it open!”

“Close it.”

Shunsui sighed. “Goodbye, little friend,” he lamented, hitting the ‘x’. “It is gone.”

“Okay, open PuTTY again. Are you using the saved session I helped you set up last time?”

“Doot doot doot,” Shunsui sang as he double clicked on the PuTTY icon. “There it is! Yes, I am using my saved session, the Shunsui-at-Work one.”

“Great. Select that session and hit ‘load.’”

“I did it.”

“Perfect. Now, over on the menus on the left, expand ‘SSH’ and pick ‘X11’.”

“Ahh, Nanao, what a brilliant person you are to remember all these things!”

“I do this all day, Professor Kyouraku.”

“And you’re so polite, too! You know you can call me Shunsui, though. Yes, here I am, at ‘X11’.”

“There’s a little box that says ‘Enable X11 forwarding, you need to check that.”

“It’s already checked.”

There was a pause. “It is?”

“Yes, there’s a little ‘X’ in it.”

“Oh.”

“We set that up before, I think.”

“I never know with you. Okay, let’s brainstorm. You aren’t part of the cloud computing pilot, are you?”

“I am, actually!”

There was a low muttering, followed by Nanao clearing her throat. “You aren’t trying to launch Matlab from the sentinel node, are you? You use PuTTY to connect to the sentinel, but then you have to manually SSH to your cloud server from there, do you remember?”

“Oh, Nanao, I don’t know what any of those words mean. I am not actually trying to get on the cloud right now, I am just trying to use the department server, does that help?

“Oh, thank God,” Nanao’s beautiful voice muttered.

“I didn’t even know I could use the cloud servers if I wasn’t in my office,” Shunsui mused.

“You can, you just have a different IP you need to-- wait, you’re not in your office?”

“I am in the little coffee shop on the north end of campus. They have the most delightfully lemon ricotta scones--”

“I have been there, the scones are great. Are you connected to the VPN?”

“We should meet here sometime! I love to come here, it’s so relaxing and both the tea and coffee are always so fresh. Do you like matcha?”

“I hate matcha. Are you connected to the VPN?”

“I hate matcha, too! How funny! I just heard from one of my colleagues that they do a really good matcha latte here and I thought--”

“The VPN, man, are you connected to it?”

“Ahhhh.... no. Do I need to be? I thought that was only when I was at home. I’m still on campus.”

“You’re still on campus, but if you’re not in your office, you’re not on the department LAN and you need to connect through the VPN.”

“Ohhhhhhh.”

“Do you know how to connect to the VPN?”

“Ah, I should, I do this when I am working from home. Let’s see, it’s over here on the bottom right…”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Right click… select Cisco…” Shunsui picked up his coffee. “I think my coffee is just about the perfect temperature right now.” He took a sip. It was delicious. “I probably should have had my coffee before I called you, eh?”

There was a muffled thud on the other end of the line.

“Nanao, did you fall? Are you all right? I can come over and help you if you need.”

“It’s fine. Someone, uh, dropped something.”

“The VPN is connected.”

“Fantastic. Just… just go through the steps you did before to get to the Bash terminal. Can you do that? I will just sit here and drink my own coffee.”

“You have your own coffee? Oh, that’s delightful! We’re coffee friends!”

“Just try to start Matlab again, please.”

“Everything just takes so long to connect, you know, once you’re on the VPN. This coffee shop should have better wifi, in my opinion.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Probably helping you open Matlab again.”

“Ha, ha, oh, Nanao, you’re such a kidder! You know I don’t work on the weekend. I bet you have many exciting hobbies, like going to the theater… or writing poetry…”

There was a long pause. “I’m actually really into historic costume recreation, and a friend and I are going to a millinery workshop.”

“Ah, I knew you were artistic as well as brilliant,” Shunsui sighed, carefully typing in his password once again. “Here we go, Nanao, do you have your fingers crossed for me?”

“I have all my fingers crossed for you.”

“I am typing in ‘matlab ampersand’ again, that should do it, right?”

“Look, the ampersand has nothing to do with the graphical display, it just runs the program as a background process so you can still type things into your terminal.”

“Amazing how you can remember so much! I am hitting ‘enter’ and-- and--”

“What’s happening?!”

“Ah, that beautiful orange saddle surface is here to greet me, once again,” Shunsui sighed as the Matlab logo filled the screen. “You have saved me once again, Nanao. You must allow me to buy you dinner sometime, or at least a coffee.”

“You can tell your department head how much you use the helpdesk, and that I deserve a raise and three more work-study students.”

“I will certainly do that. Have a tremendous day, Nanao!”

“You, too, Professor Kyouraku.”

Shunsui stretched and interlaced his fingers behind his head. All that hard work was exhausting. He’d been so ready to get started, and now his rhythm was off. There was no way he could jump directly into those plots. He stood up and meandered over to the counter.

The cute barista was on duty today. His pale hair was tied up in a casual bun, and the sleeves of his sweater pushed up over his forearms. “Good morning, Professor,” he said with a sunny grin. “Working hard or hardly working?”

“Oh, causing trouble for our IT department, once again,” Shunsui sighed.

“The one you have a crush on? Did you ask for her number?”

“I have her number, I call it every day when I cannot figure out how to use my computer. She has no interest in an old fellow like myself. She is far too good for me, Juushirou! But speaking of things that are too good for me, please tell me that you have one of my favorite scones for me today?”

“Hmm, we just had a big rush at breakfast time,” Juushirou frowned. “I’ll have to go check. Oh, we have a new flavor today!” He leaned forward over the counter and waggled his eyebrows. “Strawberry basil?”

“I am sure they are a delight, but I have had a very harrowing morning, and I need the comfort of the familiar.”

“I understand!” Juushirou shook a finger sternly. “Shunsui’s favorite flavor… Shunsui’s favorite flavor… it’s not orange ginger, he finds those too zingy.... maple bacon, too trendy… the less we say about the matcha scones the better… oh dear, oh dear, it appears the lemon ricotta basket is empty.”

Shunsui flung his arm over his eyes. “I knew I should have ordered one with my coffee! I have been trying to cut calories, but today has been so trying…”

“I’ve got Morning Glory muffins? Or egg white breakfast cups?”

Shunsui made a face. “Thank you, but I think I would rather just go without.”

Juushirou gave off his hearty laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone make such a sad face over scones.” He furrowed his brows. “Those lemon ricotta scones are very popular, you know. We run out of them almost every day.”

“I am a man of discerning taste, Juushirou, who is frequently disappointed.”

“You know what you need?” Juushirou suggested perkily. “A savory scone. Completely different flavor profile. It’ll take your mind right off the lemon. We have cheddar chive? Pancetta sage?”

“Juushirou,” said Shunsui. “I will take a white chocolate blackberry scone.”

“Wonderful choice!” Juushirou agreed, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Those are my favorites.”

“I know,” Shunsui replied.

#my writing #wacky au requests #please no one at me about whatever i messed up in the IT part #it's been a year since i've had to walk an old man through ssh-ing into a server #you may be wondering why shunsui is a math professor in this #and the answer is that i have known a lot of math professors

8 notes · View notes