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tennessoui · 3 years

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Hi miss Kit! So um, I'm not the anon who had the idea about the Pokemon obikin AU but I saw that you're still looking for a prompt so I did some brainstorming?

Obviously Anakin is aiming to be a Pokemon Master which is why he'll have to fight the elite four eventually. Which is not an easy task despite what the games might imply! So what if, despite breezing through the gyms before, beating Team Rocket and having a team that is powerful and adores him, he still fails his first attempt at the league.

I remember Prof Oak telling your rival after you beat him in gen 1 that he lost to you because he doesn't love his Pokemon enough which is bullsh*t!! But must surely be a cutting remark.

So ofc he goes to caretaker!Obi-Wan afterwards because he is a former Pokemon trainer so how has he dealt with loss before? Does Anakin really not love his team enough? Bonus points if Obi has challenged the league before (and won??)

I just realized that this is way too angsty for the Pokemon universe >.< everything is nice and soft here

alright!!!!!! finally!!! here is that pokémon au, a bastardization of this prompt and @sinhalbutnoangst 's prompt "24: Right before a passionate/first kiss & 16: “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? I’m right here.” For a Pokémon AU !!!"

I hope y'all both enjoy or at least find parts to be happy about!!!

(fair warning i don't know a lot about pokémon so who knows how accurate this is at ALL)

(3.3k)

(i've linked each pokémon name with their pokedex picture just so everyone knows what they look like. no need to read the descriptions or anything)(god knows i didn't half the time)

Obi-Wan is in the water, tending to a shy gyarados a trainer had left behind as a Magikarp a few months ago, when on the shore his flareon raises its muzzle and barks loudly. That’s her signal that someone’s arrived at the Daycare center proper. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, as he strokes his hand down the gyarados' side.

“I always tell them to call ahead,” he mutters as the pokemon nudges closer for more attention. “Why do they never call ahead?”

Gyarados knocks him hard in the arm. It’s clear she wants more pats, but business calls.

“Would you mind terribly taking me back to shore, dear?” Obi-Wan asks politely. It’d be faster than swimming all the way there, and it would strengthen the Pokémon's connection with humans.

On the shore, Flareon bounds around in a circle, tail flickering back and forth. It must be someone she recognizes the scent of. A regular then. That means Obi-Wan can take his time getting back to the counter to greet them, but he probably shouldn’t show up dripping wet in only a pair of swim trunks.

Luckily, Gyarados gives him a lift, bellowing mournfully to be left alone again when Obi-Wan alights onto the sand. When her trainer comes back to pick it up, Obi-Wan has half a mind to offer to buy her from them. No one who actually cares about their pokemon would leave a magikarp to become a gyarados under the care and instruction of someone else.

But becoming known as the Daycare Runner who gets attached to Pokémon and tries to keep them is perhaps a serious threat to his business as a whole. And he’s already done that too many times.

No, the best thing to do is to wait for the trainer to come back and sit them down to give them a serious talk about their Pokémon’s emotional needs. They’re probably young. Most trainers are these days. On some level you have to be in order to have the energy to travel as much as you do, to sleep on the ground more nights than not.

Yes, they’re probably young, and more focused on gym battles than their Pokémons’ growth and happiness. It happens sometimes with tunnel vision like that. Too many advertisements for the Pokémon League, the Elite Four, the Gym badges. Obi-Wan had been the same way when he was a kid.

He gathers his clothes from the shoreline and slips on his shoes. Flareon tries to help dry him out by wrapping herself repeatedly around his ankles and cooing out gusts of warm air, but all it does is create a new and unusual tripping hazard.

Especially when she suddenly perks up, about halfway to the building and jumps forward into a run. Obi-Wan stares after her, confused, clothes held in a slackened grip until he sees a very familiar growlithe running fult tilt from around the building. It hops the fence with practiced ease that makes Obi-Wan inwardly despair at the lesson it’s unwittingly teaching all of the other Pokémon.

But he can’t deny the way his heart thuds when he realizes what its presence means. His flareon, embarrassingly enough, seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she bounds up to the growlithe and starts winding between his legs instead, rubbing her head over every part of black and orange fur she can reach.

Obi-Wan sighs and shucks on his buttoned shirt, shaking out the water from his hair. He doesn’t even really bother with pants, seeing as his wet swim trunks go almost to his knees.

It’s Anakin. Anakin’s here. Anakin hasn’t been here for four months when he left in the midst of a shouting match. Obi-Wan has been trying--unsuccessfully--to put Anakin out of his mind. And now Anakin’s growlithe is prancing towards him like it’s a special present to see him at all.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pausing in buttoning up his shirt so he can pet at the growlithe’s--what does Anakin call him again?--muzzle. For a second, the Pokémon nuzzles back, scenting his face and neck as territorial Pokémon are wont to do, before it moves quickly forward and grabs Obi-Wan by the shirt, swinging him up onto its back.

Out of shock and a latent survival instinct, Obi-Wan drops the rest of his clothes and clings to the Pokémon’s back. “Shit!” is on the tip of his tongue the entire two minutes it takes to bound back to the fence, over it and through the welcome doors of his own Daycare.

Anakin is standing, back to the entrance, furiously tapping the bell on the desk, looking somehow both desperate and bored.

Growlithe barks once, twice, and shakes himself hard enough that Obi-Wan knows to let go before he gets rolled over upon.

It’s not the most graceful entrance he would have chosen after going months without seeing Anakin, to land on his back, partially dressed and smelling like the sea at the Pokémon trainer’s feet.

Anakin at least has the wherewithal to be both surprised and immediately worried. “Obi-Wan!” he yelps, turning around immediately upon his growlithe’s bark of victory.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan says dryly sitting up from his sprawl and combing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are your clothes?” Anakin asks shrilly, turning a very interesting shade of magenta and looking quickly away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t be more different, what with the way he looks at Anakin as if he’s starved for the sight of him. It’s been several long months since they last saw each other. The fight had been...awful, to say the least. Anakin had accused him of not really wanting him to succeed. Obi-Wan had accused him of the same tunnel vision he diagnoses most young adults to have.

Neither had been true. Obi-Wan hadn’t even meant it, but he’d been mad. He’d been mad that Anakin hadn’t even thought to listen to him more than a Gym Leader he’d just defeated.

Palpatine had urged him to go straight to the League. Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to return home to his mother, give his Pokémon a break, work his way to the island of the Pokémon League naturally as a means of bonding with and further testing his Pokémon. He has no idea who Anakin ended up listening to. It’s been something that has haunted him for weeks.

“Out in the back,” Obi-Wan grunts, standing and trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his dignity under the Pokémon trainer’s wide-eyed stare. Anakin’s grown older in the past few months, his face sharper. What is he now, newly twenty-three? Halfway to twenty-four? “Your Growlithe was quite enthusiastic to bring me here as soon as possible.”

Anakin flushes and looks down at his feet. He looks tired, Obi-Wan decides. Like he’s walked the entire continent just to show up at his door.

“Sorry,” Anakin says sheepishly. “I had--”

“Him out and walking with you, I know,” Obi-Wan finishes with a fond shake of his head. He buttons the last necessary button on his shirt and sweeps past Anakin to stand behind his desk. “You always liked having one of them out with you. How’s your Jolteon?”

“Twilight?” Anakin asks, sounding surprised Obi-Wan even remembered he had a jolteon. He tries not to feel offended. It’s an unfortunate truth that Obi-Wan remembers almost everything about Anakin, the trainer that used to hang around his daycare as though he couldn’t bear to step more than fifty paces from his front door. “He’s fine. A bit angry with me, I think.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, furrowing his brow as he looks up at his guest. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Anakin is quiet for a few seconds, and his hands clench down on the edge of the counter-top. When he speaks, his voice wavers. “Obi-Wan...do you think my Pokémon love me? Like, do you think I am a good trainer?”

Obi-Wan stares at him. This isn’t a conversation he should have without pants on, he decides. He slowly puts his pen down. “What happened, Anakin?” he asks gently, reaching out and laying a hand on the arm Anakin still has resting against the counter.

“I lost,” his favorite trainer whispers, looking down. Growlithe--Resolute, that’s what Anakin had named him--noses into the nape of his neck. Obi-Wan is not jealous. “I challenged the Elite Four, and I lost in the second round.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightens completely involuntarily. He hates hearing that after their years-long friendship, the last few years where he’d thought perhaps they were on the verge of being something more, despite his reservations, Anakin had listened to Palpatine over him. Palpatine.

“Come around back here,” he instructs after a second’s thought. Somehow, still, after all these months, he thinks he knows what Anakin needs. “And release all of your Pokémon from their Pokéballs.”

“All of them?” Anakin asks, sounding so unsure Obi-Wan’s heart aches with the doubt of it all before he reigns that in. This isn’t about him.

This isn’t about him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, just once, “Yes. Do you trust me?”

Anakin’s fingers hesitate on the seal of his first Pokéball, and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” Anakin finally says gruffly, pressing the release. “Yeah, I do.”

His altaria pops out of her Pokéball with a trill and a flap of her cloud-shaped wings. He just catches a hint of the jolteon materialize into existence before he turns his back. “I’m going to put on proper clothes,” he tells Anakin over his shoulder. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure your Pokémon will remember half the ones here.”

And all of the ones Obi-Wan calls his own, he doesn’t add. Anakin should know. Anakin’s known them since he was fifteen years old and surly over the fact that his mother wouldn’t let him go out and hunt legendary Pokémon until he finished schooling.

He finds his abandoned clothes quickly, and shuffles into them. Flareon noses around him curiously, with more than a bit of excitement. She probably smells Anakin on him. The thought doesn’t warm his cheeks, but if it does, he’ll blame it on the sudden amount of heat she’s giving off.

He leaves his shirt as is and doesn’t even bother with the vest or tie. He’s not here to be Professor Kenobi. He’s here to be Obi-Wan, Anakin’s friend. That’s what Anakin needs from him right now. A friend.

He fixes his hair anyway in a mad bout of nerves, but no one, not even his mienshao or flareon, obsessed with appearances as they are, are paying enough attention to him in order to soothe his sudden insecurities.

More than anything, he wants to be back in the sea, surrounded by the gyarados’ coils. He doesn’t understand humans as much as he would like to, and he certainly doesn’t understand Anakin. Not anymore. Perhaps he never did.

His flareon bumps at his wrist with the crown of her head and he looks down with a sigh. “Someone’s excited, I see,” he murmurs wryly, smoothing down the stuck-up fur of her hair and chest mane. She purrs. “Not the most excited though,” he adds with a huff as he sees a blur of white and blue from the corner of his eyes as the female Meowstic who spends most of her time strolling the parameter of the Daycare abandons her position to dart towards the backdoors where a newly emerged navy male Meowstic stands waiting.

They collide and curl into each other, two halves of one whole brought back together.

Well, that’s as good as any sign to approach Anakin, who has decided to collapse on the soft grass of the enclosure. Other than the Meowstic, his freed Pokémon have curled around him. The jolteon, Artoo, rests by his head, while his charizard, Mustafar, brackets the length of his body with his own. The growlithe sits watchful at his feet, while a new, unfamiliar pancham curls up on his chest. Finally, his gallade sits cross-legged to his side.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan drawls before he can help himself, “It’s very obvious that your Pokémon don’t love you.”

Anakin bolts upright at the sound of his voice. The pancham growls at him, a baby noise that Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily think the species capable of.

The Pokémon trainer hushes it quickly with a stern, “Vader, no.”

Obi-Wan comes to sit cross-legged in front of the man. “You didn’t have a pancham last time,” he says easily. What he really wants to ask is much more complicated. He wants to know everything. He wants to know how Anakin changed. When. Why. He wants to know what’s still the same.

It’s always complicated when it comes to Anakin. It’s never been easy.

“He was injured when I found him,” Anakin admits, stroking the top of Vader’s head. “But a fighter. I think I was injured when I found him too.”

The man seems so lost in his own recollections that Obi-Wan hates to interrupt. Carefully, Anakin’s jolteon, Twilight, noses his hand. When he’s not pushed away, he jumps into Obi-Wan’s lap with a trill. Flareon lets out a hiss, but acquiesces when the jolteon licks at her snout, accepting her ownership of Obi-Wan.

“I had just lost,” Anakin says slowly. “I wanted to come back here, rent a Lapras and just ride until I saw the shoreline I knew was yours. But I didn’t know what you’d say to me. How mad you’d still be.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip. He wouldn’t have been mad. He’d been worried, from the second Anakin left his property. But how to tell the man that? Would the other even want to hear it? Would he think Obi-Wan was trying to infantilize him, to protect him?

“I didn’t want you to be right.” Anakin whispers, arms tightening around the Pokémon. “I didn’t want you to be right and say that I wasn’t ready. And then I was in the forest, walking home, and I found this guy. He’d been attacked by a bug pokémon who was probably a higher level. But he was so angry still. I...I wanted him on my team. I needed that fire back.”

Obi-Wan suddenly thinks that there’s much more distance between them than there should be. He wants to be hugging Anakin, to be kissing his temple. These were allowances they had given each other before the fight, things that Obi-Wan had squirreled away, close to his heart.

He wants them back.

“But I keep thinking about how the professor who gave me my first Pokémon told this guy I beat in my first battle that he lost because he didn’t love his Pokémon right, and I...I’m just worried that’s why I lost.” Anakin stares down at his pancham, who puts his paws on his cheeks and pats a few times.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks it sounds too fond, too revealing, but Anakin looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve never known a trainer to love his Pokémon more, dear one.”

“Then why?” Anakin asks plaintively, scooting forward until their knees brush. “Why did I lose? The gym leader of Cinnabar Island told me I would win!”

Obi-Wan, quite maturely in his opinion, doesn’t mention the fact that the recently defeated Palpatine probably had ulterior motives for Anakin to challenge the league too quickly and then fail. “You weren’t ready, Anakin,” he says instead, placing his hand on the other’s knee and holding it even when the trainer jerks out of his grp. “Please, listen. It's about sheer time, training experience. It’s not about you or your relationship to your Pokémon. You have such an amazing, strong relationship with them! They love you. Anyone could tell. And you’re not lacking in skill either. I know your mind is sharp and ready for battle.”

Anakin looks at him teary-eyed. “I’ve been so worried that maybe they didn’t know I loved them,” he admits in a wavering voice.

Obi-Wan can’t resist moving impossibly closer to his trainer. “Oh, Anakin, of course they do. Pokémon don’t always express or interpret love the same way humans do, but they do have their own ways of showing it.”

“Like what?” Anakin sniffles, wiping at his wet eyes. If Obi-Wan had really been listening, he would have noticed the change in his tone. As it is, he continues immediately, too focused on trying to stop his trainer from crying to think of anything else.

“A fire-type Pokémon wil try to warm you if they think you’re cold, even if it means staying up all night to keep you in in its flame. And fighting-type Pokémon are capable of throwing a blanket over you if they think you need to rest. Psychic-types have been known to read their trainer’s emotions and either hug them or give them distance whenever they want. Ground- and bug-type have been known to bring berries to their trainers to get them something to eat, and electric--why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s nascent smirk grows bigger at this interruption and he cocks his head to the side as he studies Obi-Wan’s face. “And what does it say about a man who spends all of his time around Pokémon, that he would do those exact same things for me?”

Obi-Wan at least understands enough to scurry backwards a few paces, much to the jolteon in his lap’s distress, who jumps away with a huff.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says quickly.

Anakin inches forward, setting the pancham, Vader, aside. He really has grown in the past few months. The loss of the League, the months apparently spent on the road, have aged him so that he’s both recognizable and something new and wild. “What if I knew of a man,” Anakin murmurs, falling to his palms as he closes the gap between them. “One who warmed me when I was cold, covered me when I was tired, hugged me when I was needy, and fed me when I was hungry? What would that mean, in terms of Pokémon?”

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. His entire body is bracketed by Anakin. Anakin, who seems to have discovered his most-guarded secret in their months apart. Anakin, who is hovering over him now with a dark look in his eyes. Finally something in Obi-Wan gives way. This is it. He will give Anakin everything he asks for. Everything he needs. He’s always tried to do this exact thing.

“I suppose that would mean he loved you,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he does not have to see Anakin’s recoil, Anakin’s disgust.

Anakin hums instead. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers, exhale hitting his lips. “Obi-Wan, open your eyes. There’s nothing to be scared of, beloved. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

At these words, Obi-Wan’s eyes jump open of their own accord. Anakin’s lips press down onto his in a movement just as sudden. He whimpers involuntarily and reaches up to clutch at the trainer’s hair, hold him to his mouth. Just as involuntarily, his lips part and Anakin’s tongue licks around the gap before darting inside. He moans. It’s shameful, the way he goes from scared to sucking on Anakin’s tongue as if he’ll die without the warm intrusion of it.

It hardly feels like the first time they’ve kissed. It feels like they’ve been kissing for years, like Anakin knows his mouth completely and utterly.

There are so many secrets left between them. Obi-Wan’s one unopened Pokéball, sitting on his belt. Anakin’s relationship with that last Gym leader. What he’s been doing these past few months. What Obi-Wan Kenobi made his fortune off of.

But none of it matters now. Not here at this moment. All that matters is showing Anakin that he’s been just as missed, just as wanted.

With that in mind, Obi-Wan rolls on top of his trainer and shoves his hands up inside Anakin’s shirt to trace along the muscles of his chest and back. This was his. His, his, his. He had come back to him. Everything else could wait.

#asks #pokemon au #the long awaited snippet!!!!#so i didn't get to all of obi-wan's pokémon teap #team**#and yes the 'unopened pokéball on his belt' refers to his being the trainer of a legendary pokémon #(zamazenta because i like that)#i really hope this is both a) readable to people who don't know shit about pokemon and #b) readable to people who do know shit about pokemon #because i am right in the middle #somehow i made this about love languages again but that's just me and my relationship with #obikin

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sad-boy-hank · 3 years

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𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐝

Yandere! Phobos x Reader

Tw: family issues, mention of/implied neglect, misgendering, its implied that reader suffers from depression but I'll let you guys make up your own hcs about that, i projected on this hard and it shows, afab reader is trans gn, phobos is a he/him lesbian

You just wanted to be a normal, inconspicuous, run-of-the-mill grunt. Someone no one would bat an eye at. Someone who wouldn't cause a stir if they went missing. Someone unimportant. Someone no one cared enough about to talk to. But clearly, God doesn't care what you want.

As soon as you were born you were important. Born with a high-ranking politician as a father and a mother who got rich doing god-knows-what. Fuck, you hated those two. But oh well. You were just a name next to theirs in news headlines. You were the "sweet little cherub" of this "perfect, happy family". The title was annoying, but hey. It wasn't the worst.

The worst came when you turned 18.

You walked into your living room and turned on the unnecessarily wide tv. This thing just takes up space. We should just sell the fucker and get a smaller one. Maybe donate it or something. With a sigh, you plopped down to watch the news. Maybe someone's working towards something nice for a change.

"As tensions run high, a young woman named Phobos seeks to win the seat of Director. Already a woman with political power and the support of the people, it's likely we'll see him get his wish."

Phobos, huh?

You've probably heard that name before, mentioned in one of your father's famously long conference meetings that he often forced you to attend when you were like, 10. You huffed. Your parents never left your thoughts, huh?

"Why hello dear!"

They never left you alone either.

Your mother strutted into the room, as she always did, proud as a peacock. She stood right in front of you, blocking your view of the television, and leaned down to squeeze your face. "How's my sweet little darling daughter doing?"

Oh crap, not this again. Scrunching up your nose in discomfort, you gently removed your mother's hands from your face. "Mom, we have talked about this. several times. I am your child, not your daughter."

She puffed out her cheeks in an annoyingly childish manner "But you'll always be my sweet little baby gi-"

"Mom. What is it you want me to do." she rarely acts this... "nice" to me. Unless she thinks I can get her something she wants.

You raised a brow as your mother stood straight and looked at you incredulously. "What do you mea-"

"Come on. You know what I mean." You slouched slightly on the couch with a sigh, trying to get more comfortable. "Spit it out, ma."

She crossed her arms and grumbled for a few seconds before speaking to you again. "Well, I'm sure you know Phobos? That lady running for director?"

No. "Yeah, I know 'im."

"Well..." Your mother paused, trying to build tension.

Hurry up.

"Well, She asked me if you'd like to work in her cabinet since you're all grown up now, and I said yes!"

You had to do a double-take. "What?"

Your mom just smiled brightly and continued. "Yep! She asked, I answered!"

You glared at her, still very pissed at being hired off without your consent. "He, ma. Phobos goes by he/him."

"Whatever, dear. You two will meet up in a week to discuss plans. Good luck!"

Fuck you.

~~~~

holy shit I cant write any more....... but that means I can focus on other cool things as I brainstorm the next part to this story! stay tuned!

#phobos #phobos x reader #yandere #yandere madcom #yandere phobos #yandere x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat #yandere madness combat

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

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summary: you have a crush on college student renjun so you make use of your best lamest flirting attempts and surprisingly they work?!

pairing: renjun x gn!reader

genre: college!au, romance, pure fluff

warnings: very lame jokes, mentions of a cruel prank in the past (someone asking out renjun as a joke, pls never do that to people!), lots of awkwardness & sweetness, a bit of swearing, reader has an obsession with renjun’s pretty hands

word count: 4.7k

It had been a while since you had a crush so strong you even had a hard time focusing in class. Usually, you were a very good student, diligently taking notes and participating when the professor asked questions. But that was until you saw Renjun for the first time.

It was like something possessed you and suddenly you couldn't think about anything else but his pretty, gentle face, his angelic voice and his lovely hands always drawing something in his notebook. It certainly didn't help much that you were seated right next to him during your shared lectures. It most certainly didn't help that you forgot all your vocabulary when you were in his immediate vicinity. Usually, your teachers and friends described you as well-spoken and eloquent, always knowing the right thing to say.

But that was, of course, until Renjun. All words disappeared from your poor brain whenever he was around. And it's not like you didn't want to talk to him, get to know him better. But you physically couldn't bring yourself to form a coherent sentence. You kept telling yourself it was just a silly crush and it would pass in time. But the more time passed, the stronger you felt the need to do something about your feelings. Naturally, you couldn't speak, but there was still something you could do. Something you probably did best. Write.

So one day, after what felt like an eternity of yearning, you finally gathered the courage to act on your emotions. Taking a small sheet of paper out of your notebook, you wrote a little something. It was probably super lame but apparently, even your writing skills were affected by your crush on him. As soon as your "masterpiece" was done, you slid it towards Renjun before you could chicken out and change your mind about this whole thing. The note had the following text:

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Your drawings are almost As pretty as you. P.S. Key word: almost ;)

The second he spotted the little note which was folded in a hurry, he opened it curiously. Once he read its insides, you could hear him snort under his breath. Was it that bad? You couldn't help but worry. Then, he took his own pen and started writing something under it. That was a good sign, right? You were feeling hopeful. Once he was done, he slid the paper towards you. You opened it in a rush. His response was:

Hey! Are you bullying my art?!?

You looked at him in confusion. How could he have possibly misunderstood? However, he was too focused on multitasking (drawing most of the time and occasionally taking notes based on the lecture) to spot your reaction. You decided you had no choice but to be as explicit as possible and wrote another note:

Nooo, I meant to compliment both you and your art, sorry if it came off wrong and lame :(

When he received it, you could swear you saw him smiling a little, which made your heart melt. How was he so beautiful? Soon enough, his reply came:

That's alright, I'm just teasing...Also, it worked.

You couldn't believe it. It worked? You'd successfully grabbed his attention by using this first-grade flirting method in college? You were suddenly feeling brave and kept writing. It was too late to turn back time.

I just think you're really pretty and cool especially when you draw but I was too hesitant to talk to you directly...

When he read your most recent note, he even gave you a look of disbelief, which you couldn't interpret until you saw his response:

Cool? Wow, that's a first...And it's ok, I don't bite.

You chuckled quietly and suddenly noticed that class was ending soon. You couldn't wait until tomorrow so you hurriedly wrote the content of your next note:

What do I have to do to get your number?

Renjun shook his head in amusement and this time, his reply came quicker than before:

*number enclosed* Here, that wasn't so hard, was it?

You could hear the lecturer saying his words of conclusion and you hurried to respond via another note, because you couldn't trust your voice to actually speak to Renjun. Not yet, at least. So, you wrote:

Thank you!!! Here is mine: *number enclosed*

And just as he received your final note, the students around you started gathering their things. You simply looked at Renjun and you still couldn't believe he'd actually replied to your silly flirting and even gave you his number! You waved him goodbye like a lovesick fool and practically ran outside of the lecture hall. Stage fright whomst? Try having a crush on the prettiest boy in the world.

After you went back home, you debated calling Renjun. Eventually, you talked yourself out of it. What if you said something stupid and embarrassing? With texting, you could at least have more time to think things through before sending them. Actually speaking to him seemed too terrifying a task to accomplish. So, you texted him excitedly and your heart did a back-flip when he replied. Was it strange that you already missed him, even though it had only been a couple of hours since you last saw him? Naturally, you couldn't tell him that, it would probably freak him out. So, you settled for texting (for the time being).

Renjun: Why did you run away after class?

You: I was too nervous to speak to you, I'm sorry!!!

Renjun: That's strange, I see you talking to your friends all the time...Am I so scary?!?

You: Nooo, you're not scary, I'm just being an idiot 😔

Renjun: Top of the class does not equal idiot but I'll let it slide this time

You: Thank you for your generosity!

Renjun: What are you up to?

You: Probably gonna work on that assignment for next week

You: Sorry, I'm so boring 😔

Renjun: First of all, you don't have to apologize so much, you did nothing wrong

Renjun: Second of all, saaame. We can brainstorm together if you want?

You: Sorry, I'll stop. Oops, I did it again. Pretend you didn't see it.

You: Also omg, yes pls, that would be great!

And that is how your friendship with Renjun started. Texting on your phones and exchanging notes during class lasted a week until you finally decided to ask him out. Again, via text, because you were feeling too shy to speak to him. The only other contact you'd had was waving at each other. And it's not like he spoke to you, either. There were two explanations for that: 1) he chose to respect your decision or 2) he was possibly just as shy as you were. Whatever the reason, you thought this could not go on forever so you managed to find the bravery to propose a date.

You: Do you wanna go out with me? 👉🥺👈

Renjun: Sure, where do you wanna go?

You: Oh, wow, I didn't think I'd get this far lol

You: Where do YOU wanna go?

Renjun: Hmm, there's this new art gallery I've been meaning to visit...if that's okay with you

You: Anything is good with me as long as I get to see your pretty face

Renjun: What

You: I said you're pretty

Renjun: Shut up, oh my God...

You: Do you want me to stop?

Renjun: Say that again

You: You're pretty

Renjun: 😳😳😳

Renjun: I can't wait to see you again

You: Same here

Once you got to the front of the art gallery, it struck you how strange it was that you would speak to Renjun for the first time ever. You mentally braced yourself as you awaited his arrival anxiously. Your nails were digging into the inside of your hands and you were terrified you'd pierce holes through your own skin. You told yourself this was silly, you had no reason to be so nervous. Renjun was a total sweetheart and he obviously liked talking...well, writing to you. You needn't worry that much, you kept repeating in your mind. You were too busy hyping yourself up to notice him approaching behind you. Too busy to be prepared for what came next.

"Hiii," Renjun greeted you with a surprise back hug.

"Oh dear," you jumped in shock as you turned around.

"Did I scare you, angel?"

Shit. Already with the pet names? How were you supposed to survive?

"No, it's fine," you waved him off, trying to play it cool. "Isn't it weird this is the first time we're actually speaking to each other?"

"Um...kinda," Renjun scratched the back of his head. "But I like it, it's what makes this so special."

"Wow, you sure do have a way with words," you chuckled.

"Shall we go inside?" he suggested.

"Yes, please."

As you looked around the art gallery, you kept pointing excitedly at the paintings, while Renjun was quietly evaluating them and telling you interesting stories about the artists. You couldn't help but be amazed by how attractive he was as he exhibited his knowledge. And of course, you couldn't help but wonder at how he was so much more beautiful than all the art you've ever seen. Naturally, you wouldn't tell him that. First of all, because it was too lame to speak aloud. Second of all, because your voice would undoubtedly betray you and crack or something even more embarrassing. As time passed, you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, despite your previous concerns. Renjun was very polite and soft-mannered and he made you feel comfortable, while the two of you looked at the paintings and discussed them. Once you'd seen everything, you were starting to feel a bit bummed out that your lovely date was coming to an end. When you were outside the art gallery, you impulsively asked:

"Can I walk you home?"

"I mean...sure. On one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to walk you home next time."

"There'll be a next time?" you whispered hopefully.

"I hope I don't sound presumptuous if I share my observation we both had a wonderful time."

"That's perfectly alright. Your observation is correct," you admitted.

"I live just around the corner, though. You really don't have to-"

"But I want to."

"So do I," Renjun said and the two of you began walking towards his home.

"I was wondering about something...You already know I didn't speak to you because I was feeling shy, but why didn't you? I have two theories, but I'm curious which one is more on point."

"Do tell and I'll try my best to enlighten you," he joked.

"Okay, so theory number one is you were being respectful of my wish not to talk yet. Theory number two is that you're just as shy as I am."

Renjun laughed and you could swear this was the sweetest sound in the entire universe.

"Am I so transparent? Honestly, it's a little bit of both. But there's another part you didn't guess. But it's too embarrassing."

"Come on, tell meee! It can't be more embarrassing than my lame attempts to flirt with you."

Renjun smiled gently.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't believe you thought I was cool and pretty...I even feared this was some sort of prank. It wouldn't be the first time someone decided to mess with me like that."

"Renjun, are you serious? I don't understand why anyone would...Scratch that, whoever messed with you didn't deserve even a fraction of your attention. I meant every word I said. I really like you...and your paintings. And I'm sorry I couldn't say it aloud earlier. You genuinely deserve to hear nice things more."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he blinked cutely. "But enough about me. I never told you...how beautiful you are. How kind and smart."

"I know," you waved him off teasingly. "But coming from you, this means a lot."

Renjun shook his head, amused by your words.

"We should go somewhere you like next time. Maybe a bookshop?" he suggested.

"Am I so transparent?" you repeated his words. "But sure, yeah. That sounds nice."

"Well, this is me," he said, pointing towards his home.

"Already? Aw, time sure flies by when you're having fun."

"I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?"

"Of course," you promised and before you could talk yourself out of it, gave him a quick but heartfelt hug. "Bye, Renjun."

"Bye, angel."

After your first date with Renjun, things were going quite smoothly. You finally got over your nervousness when it came to talking to him and the two of you would occasionally whisper things to each other during class. The first time he held your hand under the desk your cheeks filled with colour. Despite your embarrassment, you held his hand right back and granted him with a grateful smile. After that, holding hands in class (whenever you weren't busy taking notes) became like second nature to you two. It just felt so sweet and comfortable to be close to him. You couldn't wait till the next weekend for your second date. Even though you were just going to a bookshop and had nothing that special planned out, you enjoyed being around him so much that you were more than excited for spending time with him one-on-one. No professors or other students to distract you.

When the day finally arrived, you were surprised to find out your anxious self had made a comeback. Even though you were around him everyday and had grown accustomed to holding a conversation, it had been an entire week since your first date when it was just the two of you and you couldn't help but get cold feet as you were waiting in front of the bookshop. This time Renjun didn't surprise you from behind, you could see him approaching from a distance. Mentally bracing yourself for his inevitable arrival, you knew you'd be an awkward mess no matter how hard you tried.

"Hey, angel," he greeted you with the usual hug.

"It's nice to see you again, Renjun," you replied dumbly, briefly melting into his arms.

"You saw me yesterday, remember?" he teased you.

"Um, yeah, but still," you chuckled.

"Is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself," Renjun immediately noticed the change in your behaviour.

"Why wouldn't it be? Everything's peachy," you lied, but he didn't seem to believe you.

"Be honest with me, please," Renjun asked. You suddenly remembered what he'd confided in you during your first date. It was no wonder he had a hard time trusting you after someone in his past had had the nerve to pull such a cruel prank on a soul as sweet as his. You felt guilty for lying rightaway and began explaining yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I don't want to fuck anything up. Like I just did by lying and swearing. Fuck. I did it again, didn't I? I'll shut up now," you were rambling anxiously.

"Relax, Y/N, I totally get it. I was just worried maybe you didn't want to be here...with me."

"What? Nonsense. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. No one else I'd rather be with."

"Well, the feeling's mutual so there's no need for concern. Let's look at those books, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good, Renjun."

As the two of you went inside and started exploring the hundreds of shelves together, you felt yourself relaxing a little. Being surrounded by so many familiar titles, so many gorgeous covers was comforting. And as you kept showing Renjun some of your favourite books and telling him about your most beloved characters, he realized you were back to your usual self in no time. Attentively listening and occasionally sharing his opinions on certain authors, you didn't notice how quickly time passed by and how much you had enjoyed yourself and each other's company. Once you had looked through the bookshop in its entirety, you felt like it was too early to put an end to your date, but you didn't want to come off as too clingy or something. So, you simply looked at Renjun, expecting him to say what he wanted to do next.

"I promised you I'll walk you home this time, didn't I?" he smoothly said.

"I believe you did," you giggled. It was so sweet of him to remember such a detail.

"I'm a man of my word so lead the way," Renjun replied, offering you his arm.

"It will be my pleasure," you eagerly took his arm and the two of you began walking. You were deliberately moving at a slow place, simply because you didn't want this to end and felt like prolonging the time around him.

"Your hands are so pretty," you blurted out at one point.

"You like my hands, huh?" Renjun smirked.

"Did I say that out loud?" you were undoubtedly blushing really hard.

"I'm afraid so."

You felt completely mortified as you covered your face with your own hands.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. You can tell me anything. Chances are I'll take it as a compliment."

"Really?" you sneaked a peak. "You don't think I'm weird?"

"Maybe a little bit, but it's one of the things I like about you."

"One?" you blinked curiously.

"You're really fun to be around and you've been nothing but sweet to me. And of course, you're stunning, but that goes without saying."

"Without saying? I don't mind hearing it, though."

"I'll have that in mind," Renjun smiled gently.

"Renjun?"

"Yes?"

"Can you hold my hand?" you almost begged.

"I don't know, can I?" he tormented you with a joke.

"Will you hold my hand?" you corrected yourself.

"All you had to do was ask," Renjun acquiesced and intertwined your fingers.

Walking hand in hand, you eventually reached your place. As you two stared at one another, you refusing to go inside, him refusing to go, both of you refusing to let go of the other's hand, you thought to yourself how badly you wanted to kiss him. You had no idea if it was too early for that but you knew that the longer you tried to postpone it, the more you'd crave him. And you were an impatient person. So you quickly kissed him without thinking much. It was a bit awkward and rushed but at least, you had finally done as you wanted. Renjun looked taken aback and blinked at you a couple of times.

"I'm sorry," you apologized again. "I just..."

He silenced you softly with another kiss, this time more slowly and putting your mind and heart at ease. You lost yourself in the feeling of his plush lips against yours, finally letting go of his hand so that you could wrap yours around his neck. Hesitant at first but growing bolder by the second, you could sense Renjun's tongue testing the waters. You slightly parted your lips, letting him in. As the kiss intensified, you could feel him becoming more eager to touch you, his arms wrapped around your lower back. When you were seconds away from losing your breath, you finally broke the kiss. Opening your eyes to look at him, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He'd kissed you back.

"I thought I told you to stop apologizing so much. Especially, when you haven't done anything wrong," Renjun scolded you politely.

You opened your mouth to argue, but when you realized your immediate response would have been another 'I'm sorry', you closed it. A second later, you came up with a different reply.

"I guess you'll have to discipline me, then," you huffed in a challenge.

"Dumbass," Renjun flicked your forehead.

"Hey!" you complained with a pout. "That hurts."

"What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?" Renjun gave an unamused look.

"That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," you mumbled, not expecting him to actually...kiss your forehead. But he did. And damn your knees for threatening to give out.

"Feel better yet?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"Get inside already," Renjun tickled your sides, nudging you in the direction of your door.

"You want to get rid of me so badly?"

"No, but we can stand here forever if you don't," he rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to invite you in?"

"Don't tempt me and go," he was impossible to sway.

"Okay, okay," you relented. "See you tomorrow, Renjun!"

For your third date Renjun suggested something different. While your first and second date had all taken place in public locations, this time he offered going to his place. And maybe the shock on your face was too obvious, because Renjun was quick to keep talking and almost take it back.

"We don't have to if you don't want to! We can just watch something at the cinema or whatever. Forget I mentioned it if you're uncomfortable."

You quickly shook your head.

"No, no, I do want to come over! I was just...not expecting it."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"A hundred per cent," you nodded excitedly.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm at two hundred per cent," Renjun teased.

"It's not a competition," you reminded him.

"It's not if I'm winning," he kept playing around.

You rolled your eyes.

"So what are we watching?" you asked.

"You can't go wrong with Harry Potter, am I right?"

"You are so right," you squealed. "Which house are you in?"

"Don't get me started. Sometimes I get Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin, it's a mess."

"That's pretty cool, though," you were practically staring at him with heart eyes at this point.

"You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"

"Am I so transparent?" you complained, this line becoming something of a running gag between the two of you.

"Cute," he mumbled under his breath and you blushed, not managing to maintain eye contact.

When the time arrived for you to go to Renjun's place, you were more excited rather than nervous. He was so easy to talk to and you were genuinely making so many wonderful memories that you had made it your mission to not waste any second worrying needlessly.

"I have arrived," you announced the obvious as you stood at his door.

"I can see that," Renjun chuckled. "Come on in."

"I wasn't sure if I should bring something so I bought some pizza on the way. It's still hot, so I hope you're hungry," you said as you followed him inside like a puppy.

"Oh, that's very thoughtful. And I always have enough space left for pizza."

You grinned and the minute you put the box on the table and your arms were free, you wrapped them around Renjun in a hug.

"You're so warm," you murmured against his skin.

He kissed the top of your head swiftly. Soon after, the two of you were too busy re-watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, eating pizza and holding hands to talk much. Once the movie was over, you realized how badly you didn't want to go home and how cozy leaning your head on Renjun's shoulder felt. And how much you liked him and couldn't stop thinking about his hands, his smile and his overall existence.

"Do you want to go home already?" Renjun asked the dreaded question.

"I mean, not really, but I don't wanna impose myself on you," you whispered.

"Don't be so formal," Renjun replied. "Just stay a little longer."

"Yayyy!" you were quite overjoyed and kissed his cheek. "What do you want to do?"

"Hm, I don't know. I could give you a tour around the place."

"Sure, that sounds fun," you immediately agreed.

"Don't get your hopes up, it's just a regular college guy's apartment."

"I'm sure I'll be amazed by every little detail."

"Even my socks?"

"Especially your socks," you joked.

As he showed you around his apartment, you couldn't help but be amazed by how Renjun-like everything was. From the snug kitchen to his art supplies scattered around. Every corner made the atmosphere feel extremely homey. Until you saw something that you hadn't expected, something that hadn't come up in conversation before. A stunning grand piano. You looked at the instrument and then at Renjun and finally, back at the piano.

"Do you play?"

"No, I just keep things like that as an accessory," he responded sarcastically. "Of course, I play."

"Can you...no, wait," you stopped yourself before making a similar mistake to the one you made a while ago. "Will you play something for me?"

"Right now?"

"If it's not too much trouble," you gave him the very best pleading look you were capable of.

Renjun sighed reluctantly and sat down on the bench in front of the piano.

"Don't just stand there awkwardly, sit next to me," he urged you courteously.

You followed his advice and took the free spot. However, nothing could have possibly prepared you for witnessing Renjun's skills up-close. Watching him play was like magic. You were simply in awe and couldn't help but stare at his pretty fingers hitting the keys in just the right ways. When he was finished performing the piece, you were too frozen to do anything. Couldn't even manage to clap, even though he deserved it so much. But you were too transfixed by his playing and those damn hands of his you couldn't possibly move.

"Earth to Y/N?" Renjun went as far as snapping his fingers right in front of your face.

"Huh?" you let out.

"Did I enchant you or what?"

"I think you did," you chuckled. "Just...wow. You're insanely good."

He looked away bashfully.

"Thanks. It just takes practice."

"Nah, I've heard people play before but what you have is different. So pure and genuine. Like a blessing. And I'm not just saying that because I think I'm falling in love with you. I really mean every word."

"Care to repeat that?"

"I really mean..." you started, still not registering what exactly you'd said. How far you'd gone. What you couldn't take back.

"Before that," Renjun reminded you gently. "You know. The part about falling in love with me."

"Shit. I was thinking out loud again, wasn't I?" you asked dumbly. "It's too early for that, I know. I'm really sorry. Let's just pretend I said nothing and forget about it, yeah?"

In your panic, you jumped up from the bench and were about to escape like a coward but Renjun grabbed your hand before you could take another step.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too," he said.

"W-what?" you stammered.

"And I don't care about whether it's too early or not. And I'm not going to pretend I didn't hear it. So the question is...what are you going to do about that?"

"Me? What...am I supposed to do?"

"What you want to do," Renjun clarified.

"Um...I want to keep falling in love with you, Renjun. And holding your pretty hands. Spending time with you. Listening to your angelic voice. What I want...is for you to be my boyfriend."

"I thought I already was."

"You were?"

"We went on a couple of dates...we kissed...Haven't I made it obvious enough?"

"Oh, right," you chuckled. "Sorry."

"Say that word one more time, I dare you," Renjun slowly ran a finger down your lips.

"S-sorry?" you had to test his patience. Before you could argue, he kissed you fiercely, wrapping his palms around your cheeks. You were drowning beneath his touch, which was ridiculous, considering he was also setting your lips on fire. You figured if saying sorry too much was going to end up like this, you would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

"Pretty angel," Renjun whispered against your mouth. "My pretty angel."

You were practically melting and the only thing holding you together were Renjun's arms.

"For fear of sounding lame, I'm inclined to say your pretty angel's almost as pretty as you. Key word: almost," you giggled, recalling your earliest attempts at flirting with him.

"Lies," Renjun shook his head.

"Hey, it worked the first time!" you pouted.

"It only worked because you're the pretty one," Renjun ruffled your hair playfully.

"Oh my God, shut up," you covered your face to hide how red it was.

"Never."

The End

#nct #renjun #nct dream #renjun x reader #nct fluff #renjun fluff #hwang renjun #nct romance #hwang renjun x reader #college au #writing

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pianostarinwonderland · 3 years

Note

Make Headcanons how the Twisted Wonderland Character speak the way in Filipino :) Jade Leech version for Taku

I brainstormed these with a friend just for this! Going to tag dear @takuyakistall or @takumipineapplexd because she is a special mention. ☺️

Italicized words/phrases will have definitions and translations at the end for the non-Filipinos!

Riddle: he’d have a pretty good Tagalog accent. Straight Tagalog too, perfect grammar and all that. He’s formal, and there’s no slang used... then he gets mad. As in, really really mad. As in, he can get even angrier than in his pre-overblot scene type of mad because Filipino people being mad is loud as fuck and somehow much more heated for some reason than if people get mad in like, English, or even some other languages

Trey: Just your normal kuya, that’s it, that’s really it

Cater: Gay as FUCK when he speaks, Taglish all the way

Ace: That one guy that yells out “HOY/HUY” almost all the damn time

Deuce: This guy struggles so much with academic Tagalog that people think he’s one of the conyo peeps......... until you flip his bad boy switch and you get him yelling “MAGSORRY KA SA MGA ITLOG HINDI NA SILA MAGIGING MANOK” in a not-conyo-at-all voice

Leona: Mans is too lazy to speak Tagalog, but he knows the language well, he just prefers English

Ruggie: The guy who’d haggle in the local palengke or sari-sari, one of the boys with the most prominent Tagalog accent

Jack: Pretty quiet for the most part, but his ‘ha’ is deep but loud

Azul: Fucking hell, this man?? He talks like he’s in a balagtasan in every conversation, and I wouldn’t put it past him to attempt the strict as fuck syllable count and rhyme scheme. Also he’s one of those Filipinos who jokingly brags but in his case, he ain’t joking 🗿🗿🗿

Jade: Kinda like Trey in which he sounds normal...... then you bring up mushrooms

Floyd: He’d drag his vowels lmao not too different from his canon self, except just hear him say “ano baaaaaa” or “sige naaaaaa, Azuuuuul”

Kalim: He’s one of those people who have a distinct bounce when they speak Tagalog, and you can’t help but smile because honest to God, bouncy Tagalog will make you want to smile

Jamil: Sounds like your normal-sounding Filipino teacher in the classroom

Vil: He’s one of those people who are so proficient in both English and Tagalog that when he speaks Tagalog, there is that distinct tone that gives away the fact that he speaks English often, but it’s not conyo at all because he’s good in Tagalog. Idk if you Filipinos get my drift since idk what’s a more concise way of putting it nfnfnfnndnf also, he’s the type to speak Taglish

Rook: Poor Rook, he used to have a prominent Tagalog accent until he learned French, and now he sounds conyo when he speaks Tagalog

Epel: Oh God, his accent is VERY prominent because of his countryside origins. He’s one of those people you’d hear yelling in the palengke. Will also say putangina and gago when he’s pissed off as fuck

Idia: The stuttering type. Because of exposure to online games, he’s one of those who has a hard time speaking Tagalog and will doubt himself every two seconds if his grammar is correct. Definitely ends up speaking Tagalog wayy too fast to the point he sounds like he’s rapping

Ortho: He’d sound like that really motivating Filipino teacher in either an educational show or in the school, and just hearing them speak feels so wholesome

Malleus: Would sound. Like he’s. Placing a. Period every. Two words.

Lilia: This dude would say old slang and modern slang in one sentence and will definitely throw in Taglish. Probably has said Shakespearean English combined with modern Tagalog 🗿

Sebek: “MALLEUS SAMA LODI KO” “HOY MGA TAO, PADAANAN MO SI MALLEUS SAMA” ....... just.. loud as fuck....... but let’s be real honest, his Tagalog vocabulary is probably very extensive from all that poetry reading. Mans definitely has read the whole Florante & Laura play and the Noli Me Tangere book

Silver: Very very quiet when he speaks and probably knows quite little

Crowley: Very VERY conyo. “I am so mabait”

Divus: He sounds bastos... would call everyone “mga aso”

Ashton: Braggy lmao nfdnnfn idk why but I’d see him in a San Miguel commercial

Trein: Your typical strict teacher

Sam: He’d sound like the tindera of the sari-sari store nfnfnngkdkdj well actually, he kinda is, but it’s like, he has that distinct accent

Definitions and translations:

Kuya- older brother

Taglish- Tagalog + English

Conyo- it’s the term for those who speak Tagalog with an American-sounding accent; it’s looked down upon in many places

“MAGSORRY KA SA MGA ITLOG HINDI NA SILA MAGIGING MANOK”- “say sorry to the eggs, they can no longer become chickens”

Palengke- market

Sari-sari store- it’s an outdoor store where you can buy load for your phone and some snacks

Balagtasan- this is a unique form of debate in which there are two debaters and one mediator, and you argue your stance in poetry form; there is a strict syllable count (if you use 17 syllables for one line, you have to stick with 17 for all lines) and a rhyme scheme

“Ano baaaaaa”- “what is it” though tbh, the meaning can kinda change depending on context

“Sige naaaaa, Azuuuuul”- “oh come onnnn Azuuuuul”

Putangina- “son of a bitch”

Gago- pretty much the equivalent of the word ‘fuck’ in English, but you have to take caution when saying this word because it will get people mad.......... honestly, just be nice and don’t call people gago at all

“MALLEUS SAMA LODI KO” - “Malleus sama, my idol” lodi is basically slang for idol....... it’s literally just idol backwards bfbdbbfjkdnd

“HOY MGA TAO, PADAANAN MO SI MALLEUS SAMA” - “humans, make way for Malleus sama” (tbh though, idk if I’m using the right verb gfnfnfnnfjjg I struggle a lot with verbs)

Florante & Laura- this is a poetic novel written by Francisco Balagtasan (yes, the balagtasan I mentioned a while ago was named after him) about a prince named Florante who was tied up in the woods whose country is at war and was supposed to wed the other princess named Laura but uh ended up in this predicament due to enemies........... ACTUALLY I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF I’M TOTES CORRECT JFJJSJFKFK you can search it up!!

Noli Me Tangere- this is a novel written by Jose Rizal that takes place during colonial Philippines about a young man named Crisostomo Ibarra who witnesses the sufferings of the Filipinos at the hands of the friars

Mabait- good/kind

Bastos- means ‘disgusting’ but it has this added weight to it that disgusting doesn’t have

“Mga aso” - “dogs”

San Miguel- the local beer here

Tindera- shopkeeper, it’s the feminine form but ehhhh who really cares ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

As requested by @spazzbot. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.

[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]

So. Let’s get to it.

Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”

This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."

Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist

Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)

This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.

They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.

Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...

They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts

So that's the end of that.

It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."

As per @atagotiak, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”

With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog:

Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.

Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.

Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.

(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)

Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.

“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”

Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."

To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)

Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.

The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.

My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.

Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.

Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.

And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."

It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.

It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?

One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.

Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]

Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.

It is not.

Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.

SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.

And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned

"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."

Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.

Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!

Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.

Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.

Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.

They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.

Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."

Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!

Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE

IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?

Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.

Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.

He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.

Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...

Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.

"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."

TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS

I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.

He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.

And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"

Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.

Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.

They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.

Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.

Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."

Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"

Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?

(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)

I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.

Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.

Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.

Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)

Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.

Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill

Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.

Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.

This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)

Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!

Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."

Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?

Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.

I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.

And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.

Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.

He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.

(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)

(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).

#Girl Genius #Phoenix Posts #Anevka Sturmvoraus #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Aaronev Sturmvoraus #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Agatha Heterodyne #Lucrezia Mongfish #Othar Tryggvassen #Bangladesh DuPree #Otharnevka #GG OT3

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Book 2: secrets revealed Virgil Anker: trust and caution

Masterlist book 1

It's not easy to know who to trust and who to be wary off. But Virgil better learn soon.

When Virgil got back to the new house, he took a shower and sat himself on the couch in his pj’s. He was listening to his ‘winding down’ playlist. He was grinning to himself. Someone else was wearing his design. Sure he’d made Janus a shirt way back in freshmen year, but he barely wore it outside the house. This would be seen by tons of people. And it looked so good! He couldn’t wait till Monday. He could imagine Roman’s reaction. Would there be pictures in the papers? On the news? He just might buy a paper so he could keep a clipping to look back on later. Thinking about gushing over the costume with Roman at school made him think about seeing Janus again. J had skipped school after what happened in the hallway, leading to him having detention all of last week. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Virgil since. Not in a, “I am mad and ignoring you way,”. He looked ashamed. Scared. That was what made it so hard for Virgil to stick to his plan. Janus looked so hurt and lost and ashamed. And during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Virgil needed to talk to Picani about this tomorrow. It would be a busy session. He contemplated where things had gone wrong for the millionth time for a while until he heard the door and looked up to see his fathers enter the room. “You’re back!” he greeted as he sat up. “So I gotta know, who’s your fourth guy?” he wondered casually. His dad just looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” “For your poker nights,” he clarified with a chuckle. Imagining Patton or uncle Thomas playing poker was kind of funny. It seemed so out of character for them. Still he couldn’t imagine what else would take all three of them getting together like this. Thomas had taught musical theatre classes, back when he was still a professor, and now he was the dean. Then again, Virgil wasn’t certain his uncle was always present. Tonight might just have been one time he happened to be there. But Patton definitely had been part of this project as much as Logan was. The past six months at the very least, but most likely from the start. “No cardgames I’m afraid kiddo. We’ll tell you about the project once it’s finished. It’s all confidential for now I’m afraid,” Patton told him gently. Virgil looked long and hard at Patton. He wasn’t lying. And confidential stuff made a lot of sense. He shrugged, letting it go. Even if his first guess was right after all and his dad was doing some kind of superhero stuff as BrainStorm, if Patton was there to help him Virgil felt assured that they’d be safe. Though he wouldn’t know how Patton, or Thomas, got wrapped up with anything involving a former super villain. “Okay, keep your secrets,” he sighed as he stretched. “Night Pat, night Lo,” he bid before heading upstairs. “Goodnight Virgil, I love you.” Virgil looked back at his dad when he heard that. “Love you to dad,” he replied with a smile. “Love you three kiddo!” Patton added, making Virgil laugh. “Love ya Pat.” And with that he went upstairs to his room. His new room was bigger than the one in his old house. But he didn’t care much about that. His old room had memories. He missed it honestly. He started to worry that he’d been too quick to say that he wanted to move out. No matter how nice the new house was, and how conveniently it was positioned, it would never quite be like the one he’d known most of his life. He let himself drop on his bed. It was pointless to think about that now. At this point, another family had probably moved into their old home. They’d brought their own furniture. Probably painted over the walls. Erasing the little doodles he’d made when he was little and bored. Before his mind could go any farther down that path, he heard a buzzing. Roman sent him a text. “Greetings! I just got back. Sorry for not checking in earlier. Could not be helped. Did you get home alright?” Virgil chuckled and texted back. “LOL. You worry too much. Hope you had a fun night.” Virgil certainly did. Just thinking about it made him impatient. Oh why not? Before he could second guess himself, he pressed call. “Virgil?” Roman sounded surprised, but Virgil was already way to giddy about his news. “I had to tell you now. I saw him!” he whispered. “Who? And why are we whispering?” Roman asked, mimicking his volume. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he admitted, earning himself a chuckle. “Ok… Who did you see?” Roman asked. “Dream Prince!” expecting the logical next question he edited his story a little. “I went for a walk and I guess he was doing patrol in my neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of him,” well, that was an understatement. But he couldn’t tell Roman everything. Not yet. He’d lectured Prince about being cautious just today. He trusted Roman. But anyone could overhear them at any time. “He was wearing my costume! You were right! I can’t wait to get a good look at it in action!” Again. “You think someone got a picture? I didn’t have a chance. God I should’ve taken a picture so I could show you!” Though he wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to get a believable citizens picture of him. He doubted Prince could be photographed if he didn’t want to be. “I’m sure I’ll see your work plastered around the front pages Monday. Pretty sure you missed out on the Saturday edition. But the news stations might talk about it.” Virgil’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You sure you don’t want your name attached to it?” Virgil considered that for a moment. It would be kind of cool, he supposed. But he was trying not to draw any attention to his civilian self so long as he did the vigilante gig. Asides from that, he didn’t want anyone to be able to claim any of his future successes were due to his connection to a superhero, or have expectations based on this one work. “Yeah… I just… I know I should want the credit. But, just in case he becomes like this big time hero,” which seemed very likely to Virgil. His powers were pretty amazing and he had the personality to make it big. “I don’t want my possible career to be defined before it starts, you know what I mean?” He hoped he did, because he was starting to get confused by his own phrasing. “Maybe I’ll come forth with the original sketch when I’m like, 30, to prove it was me if it still matters by then,” he concluded. “Sounds like a smart plan. I’m going to let you go. I do need my beauty sleep after all.” Oh, he made it too easy. “You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Night Princey.” “Buenas noches. Mi querido amigo,” Roman replied dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he smiled as he realized Roman just called him ‘dear friend’. Trying to hide the way that warmed his chest he let out a groan. “Bon nuit,” he huffed in retaliation before hanging up. Janus had taught him a bit of French over the years. And just like that his thoughts returned to his old friend. Janus had been well behaved the past week. He hadn’t gotten in a single fight. Maybe he should try and show that he noticed. Just saying ‘hi’ wouldn’t be that bad right? Show that he meant it when he said he wanted to get back to being friends, real friends, at some point. With thoughts of a happy ending for everyone, Virgil fell asleep. The next morning he woke up early. He made sure to be quiet as he got ready for the day. Once downstairs he turned on the tv. And sure enough, the local station was talking about Dream Prince. A professional picture of him leaping across the street from one rooftop to another serving as background. The anchors were talking about his heroic deeds of last night, ranging from walking a girl home to taking down those criminals ‘single handedly’. “No one can deny it. This young hero finds no feat too great or too small, and he does it with style. Looks like he’s settled on a look.” They thought his costume had style! Virgil was vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t sit still. He had to do something with all this energy. He started on breakfast. Bacon, eggs… It had been a while since he’d felt up to making a big breakfast and been the first to wake up. Patton was as much of an early riser as he and Logan. Which meant he hadn’t had Virgil’s secret omelet recipe yet. He was bouncing on his feet as the two anchors were analyzing the costume in as much detail as they could. They found the heels a bold choice and the mask an elegant way to incorporate a crown. When Virgil heard his dads move about upstairs he turned the news off and set the table. Patton really liked the eggs. That or he really wanted Virgil to think so. Three servings made him think that it wasn’t pretend though. After breakfast, uncle Thomas picked him up for their trip to the zoo. Virgil had been looking forward to it. It felt forever ago since he last spent some one on one time with his honorary uncle. “That’s a nice one. You really got the eyes down well,” he complemented as Virgil finished a sketch of a koala. “Thanks,” Virgil said, pretty happy with the result as well. “You are really talented. Guess it runs in the family. I remember your dad scribbling away in his poetry notebook all the time.” Virgil looked at his uncle with wide eyes. “You knew my father?” he asked perplexed. Thomas frowned down at him for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no. I never personally met your birthfather. I meant Logan,” he clarified. Virgil was a little disappointed. For a second he’d hoped to learn a little more about his birthparents. But if Thomas had been talking about Logan… “My dad wrote poetry?” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. He was pretty good. Though he’d disagree. He felt more comfortable using his sharp tongue on the debate team. He won us some prizes,” he recalled. Virgil took this in. He had wondered what his dad was like at his age before. Now was a good time to ask more. “So poetry and debate team… Guess that is why you two became friends, huh?” he asked. Thomas shook his head a little awkwardly. “Not exactly. With my social anxiety I probably wouldn’t have approached him if my mom hadn’t told me about his mom losing custody…” “What!?” Virgil gasped. He never knew that. Thomas cringed realizing he had maybe said to much. He looked down at Virgil. “Your grandparents weren’t parents of the year. Not abusive, but… neglectful I suppose. Logan never talked about it, so I don’t know the details. Just what little ” “He was in the system?” Virgil asked with a shiver. He’d heard about the system. He was glad he never had to experience it. “No, like for you there was someone ready to take him in right away,” Thomas told him. Virgil wanted to ask who had adopted his dad. But he had an idea… And he kind of didn’t want to hear he was wrong. He wanted it to be his parents. It would explain why Logan had such a hard time talking about them, but had so much love and respect for them when he did. “What was it like rooming with him? Was he secretly a slob in college?” he asked hopefully. Thomas relaxed and started talking about a few college stories, though he quickly veered into high school and early parenthood stories. At the end of the day Virgil had a good handful of animal sketches, an idea for his art project for the semester and Thomas dropped him off at Picani’s office. “Hello Virgil. How are you today? I heard you had a good scare earlier this week.” Virgil let out a deep sigh, sat down and started his story. Leaving Picani’s office a little bit later than planned, he felt a lot better. Or, well ‘better’ never had been the right word. He’d realized that sometime during the camp. After talking about Picani about what bothered him, he was still bothered by it. But he understood things more clearly. He felt less confused and had an idea of what to do about it. Picani never told him everything would be okay. He helped him understand what was wrong and how to either steer it in a better direction, or learn to live with it. He now felt less uncertain about wanting to give Janus a sign that there was still hope for them, even after what happened last week. He felt less guilty over indulging the people asking him out even though Roman was still very much on his mind. He even felt better about getting more information than he should’ve from uncle Thomas. It had been a relief talking about his theory that his dad had been in his parent’s custody for at least four years and that that was, maybe, the reason why he took him in when they passed. And the fact that he had at least one set of grandparents that might be still alive. He wasn’t going to ask about them though. If they held bad memories for his dad, he didn’t think he wanted to know them. It was very low on his list of priorities. The fact that his dad never mentioned them told him enough. The whole scare with the ceiling lamp was discussed and Picani left it alone when Virgil said that he didn’t want to waste too much time on it. “I’m home!” he announced as he came through the door. He heard Patton call a greeting from the kitchen and saw his dad come from the living room to meet him in the doorway. “Dad!” he called out eagerly as he gave his father a hug. “Virgil? Not that I do not appreciate you seem excited to see me. But is there a particular reason?” There were a few honestly. Knowing a bit more about how he ended up being raised by the smartest, most patient man he’d ever met had him excited. On top of that knowing what his dad was like at his age made him feel closer to him. He decided to focus on the latter. He’d turn sixteen soon. If Logan hadn’t initiated the conversation by then, he would. He could be patient for another month. “Uncle Thomas told me about your teen years. I didn’t know you were on the debate team!” he told him. He could imagine his dad thriving in that environment though. Maybe they should check out the debate team this year in between Roman’s play and Virgil’s art exhibit. Logan gave Virgil a small smile, a bit of pride in his eyes. It was rare for Virgil to see his dad proud of himself. He liked it. “Well, yes. It was a bit of a hobby of mine, as well as an attempt to get better at socializing,” Logan said modestly. Virgil picked up on the operative word in that sentence. ‘Attempt’. “You were a socially awkward nerd,” he concluded with a chuckle. He was so used to being nothing like his dad. Finding flaws and similarities to himself in the man he’d idolized as long as he could remember, it was strangely exhilarating. Logan, however seemed to misunderstand what had Virgil so thrilled. “Hey, that’s a complement! I’m a socially awkward artsy kid. Sounds like I’m your son after all!” he clarified. That reminded him though. “Speaking off. Uncle Thomas told me you wrote poetry back in the day.” “Really!?” Patton exclaimed from the kitchen. Logan was blushing. Scrambling for a way out of the conversation it seemed. “I… Experimenting with different forms of self-expression is a natural part of discovering one’s identity as a teenager. It was a phase. I would like to forget about it.” Virgil was about to argue against it, but Patton beat him to it. “Aw, but poetry is so romantic,” he pouted. And Virgil could see the way that affected his dad. Well, their date nights were about to get ten times more sappy. Hopefully going for the heart, and his ego, would work out just as well for Virgil. “That’s too bad. I thought I could make a project around your old work for art class,” he sighed disappointedly. And just like that his dad’s firm posture melted away. “I’ll see if I can find some of my old notebooks. Just ask my consent before you pick one.” Virgil couldn’t resist hugging him again. “Thanks dad. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He felt his father put his arms around him gently. A wordless “you’re welcome”. Virgil was feeling very chatty during dinner and so told his parents all about his day. They had to go to the university again tonight. Since Virgil was planning on meeting up with Prince and not sure if he’d be out all night or just long enough to talk to the guy, he bid them both a good night now. Just in case he’d be too tired to wait for them to get home once he got back. As soon as they were out the door Virgil dug in his closet for his face mask, something he wore when he was feeling sick and didn’t want to infect others. And his shades. He was going to take a chance on Prince today. He made sure he had his evidence at the ready. He’d updated it earlier that week and last night he hadn’t learned anything new. He decided to go with the same look as yesterday so Prince would recognize him more easily. He made his way to the street and vanished in the alleys. After a few minutes he found the rooftop they’d used as their rendezvous point last night. Hopefully Prince wouldn’t make him wait too long. He lowered the intensity of his cloak to be more easily spotted should someone be looking for him. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. “Good evening my shadowy friend,” the grand voice of Dream Prince drifted through the air. Virgil turned around, his coat flaring out with the movement. “Hey there highness,” he greeted as he tossed him the evidence bag. Clear of any fingerprints or DNA as far as he could manage it, as usual. Prince studied it for a moment. “Is this…?” he sounded surprised. “A show of good will. I thought about it…” not enough. Maybe he was biased because he reminded him of Roman. Or because he’d seen him during his training wheel days. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You seem alright. I’ll… I’ll have your back. If you have mine.” They could help each other. Grow stronger together. Weren’t heroes always at their strongest once they learned to work together? “You do know that if I hand this in, they’ll know I made contact?” This guy. Virgil chuckled, finding this strangely endearing. “You mean you haven’t told them yet?” Prince’s posture straightened almost defiantly. “You didn’t say you were alright with that!” Was he actually insulted by the idea of reporting back to his people without Virgil’s permission? Guess he’d read him right. Good to know. “Okay. Well, consider this my permission. If I don’t want to be found, I’ll disappear Prince.” He’d find a way to avoid Prince if it was necessary. “Tell the chief all communication with me goes through you. If you don’t mind.” Because Virgil didn’t trust the chief enough to go anywhere near her. Prince nodded as he reached for his ear. “I am currently debriefing Phantom. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Tell chief I’ll stop by with a package. Radio silence until further notice.” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. This guy. He really needed to be more careful. “You ever thought I might be a bad guy? You shouldn’t cut off your back up like that in front of me.” Had they taught him nothing at the GTH? “You’ve had plenty chances to take me out,” Prince pointed out, much to Virgil’s surprise. “You could have let those goons get me the first time you saw me. You could have attacked me while I was busy with those guys yesterday. And who knows how many times over the summer. And on top of that. Who says my communicator is my only way of contacting back up?” Okay, so maybe Prince knew what he was doing after all. “Fair enough. So what now?” He had no idea what would come after this. He just knew that Prince reached out, and he’d accepted. The ball was back in Prince’s court. “Now… I warn you about the collector.” That sounded very serious. He almost wanted to get out before he could get involved, but a gut feeling told him that this was important. He eyed the edge of the roof. Well might as well get comfortable. “I feel like this is a sitting down kind of conversation.” Once they both sat down, Virgil put on his sunglasses and dropped his cloak completely. It was symbolic or whatever. Letting his guard down in a visible way. He turned to the prince expectantly, a little annoyed at how the dark glasses limited his vision. Prince took in a deep breath and started his story. “The collector is an old enemy of Manifestor. He recruits Gifted, and those he thinks deserve to be gifted for some kind of revolution. You and I are probably his kind of people. Young, full of potential. All that stuff creeps like that love to go on about.” Virgil’s eyes widened. That did sound bad. He was suddenly very glad he had not confided in anyone about his powers so far. Who knew if the Chief was on the Collector’s payroll? Or maybe Picani was being spied on. “So we should be careful, you and I. I want to help you out,” Prince told him as he offered him two small objects. A stone and lip balm? “These can help you hide your identity without having to use your… Do you have a name for it?” Prince wondered. Virgil wasn’t sure if he could disguise his voice. But if he did, he was not going to risk Prince being someone from school who might recognize his voice. “Cloak,” he replied before dropping his guard again. “Cloak… Cool,” Prince nodded as he showed the black stone. “So this, is a voice modulator. I adjusted it to fit your tempest voice as best as I could.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Tempest voice? That sounded so cool honestly. But man was it dramatic. “You clearly have not heard it,” Prince pointed out and he had a point. He sounded normal to himself. “What’s with the lipstick?” he asked. “This will paint your hair black faster than any hair dye. It’s also a very good hair gel and it washes out right away,” Virgil bit his lip as Prince offered him the items. He was not used to being helped. Not as ‘Phantom’ at least. He still struggled with it as Virgil. Letting Roman help him with his English assignment yesterday had been hard. But he had to let people help him. He had to take a leap of faith here. So he took the items and got up to try them out. “No peeking!” he warned, though he would keep his cloak up. It was more to test if Prince would be tempted to go against his wishes. He didn’t. Virgil placed the modulator on his throat where Prince had his red stone and applied the balm to his hair. He spread it out and took a moment to decide on the style he wanted to go with. He tried for windblown, though he wasn’t sure if he did it right without a mirror. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said testing out his new voice. Wow, if that was what he really sounded like then Tempest voice might just have been the most accurate description. He looked back at Prince who was getting up and waling over to him. “Okay. So… what’s the plan?” he asked, curious what Prince was expecting out of this collaboration. “Well… We could try and meet up here regularly. We might not always patrol at the same time, and you might be busy. But I could… If you are okay with it… I could help you coordinate with the cops. Like you kinda suggested earlier. Or we could like, do some patrolling together? Keep each other company…” Oh, that was cute. Prince could be insecure. Virgil was starting to think he was unshakable. “It might be nice talking someone who gets it you know? You’re my age right?” he wondered. Nice try. Very subtle. “I mean… I guess, but I’m not sure how old you are exactly,” he shrugged casually. He wasn’t going to give anything away that easily. “Fair point.” Or maybe there hadn’t been an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid. “Anyway… What do you want?” Virgil thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “I mean… Debriefings sound cool,” he said casually. “I’d like to patrol with you, but my parkour is no match to that walking on air trick you got…” He was kind of jealous of that one if he was honest. “I was thinking of hanging around the clubbing district at the end of the night and making sure some party goers get home safe. I’ll see you around there when you’re done?” This talk was fun and all, but Prince should probably check in with his team soon. And Virgil needed to think about things for a minute. “That sounds like a good idea,” Prince agreed as he gave him a bow. “Until then. Know that the GTA’s resources are now at your disposal through me. So if you want to get a proper suit or other fun toys, you need only ask.” And with that Virgil’s new ally sprinted of into the night. A real suit huh? Virgil shook his head. He’d have to think on that some more. For now, he had work to do.

Hero au

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #hero au #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #prinxiety #logicality

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pengychan · 4 years

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 20

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: Being a sticker for the rules is all well and good until someone uses said rules against you. Also, thanks to @lunaescribe for her help brainstorming for this chapter - she came up with a lot of what Sofía says in it! Art by @swanpit and @lunaescribe!

***

“Well. It seems you are well and truly fucked.”

“That is not helpful.”

“I mean, I may be wrong. In case I’m not, I want you to know it was nice knowing you. Biblically and otherwi--”

“I beg you to spare me more nonsense,” Imelda groaned, still rubbing her temples. She had started almost as soon as Ernesto had opened his mouth to explain the situation, and had yet to stop. Either she was being dramatic, or there was a colossal headache on the way. “Last thing we need right now is for word to get out that we sheltered a deserter.”

Beside her, Héctor swallowed. “Well, if we say we didn’t know--”

“And you think Federales would care?” Imelda asked, her voice barely cracking a moment, giving a briefest glimpse to how scared she truly was at the prospect. Ernesto crossed his arm, the thing gnawing at the pit of his stomach - terror, and something that felt a lot like guilt - becoming almost painful.

The men lined up in plazas for the firing squad to execute. The hangings of those we did not shoot. The wailing children, the screaming women. Some were shot too, soldaderas, aiders like Imelda and Sofía. And even the holy cloth will not be enough to save them if they find out.

“They won’t care,” he said, looking away. “I would know.”

A few moments of silence, and Ernesto barely dared to breathe; he wasn’t so naive not to know that spontaneously surrendering him before the gringo had a chance to speak would be their best chance at avoiding all that. If they gave any indication of planning to do that, then he’d have no choice but to make a run for it. If only he still had his horse--

“Well. It seems we must make sure the gringo never speaks, then.”

Imelda’s voice was firm, cold. Ernesto blinked, looking back at her. “What?”

“... Is it not what you have been trying to do? If he unmasks you, he will be calling down the wolves on every one of us. Whether he means to or not.”

“I…”

“Wait, wait!” Héctor spoke up, lifting his arms. His eyes were wide, his face ashen pale. “Let’s not-- there is no need to hurt him. He did tell Ernesto to leave, no? So say that we hide him, and we let the gringo think he did leave--”

Ernesto scoffed. “He’ll still denounce me, at this point. He only conceded me a head start before he does. It won’t help you when the Federales come asking questions.”

“Ah.” Héctor faltered a moment, then he shook his head. “No, it’s not right. We don’t need to harm him--”

Sofía raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we’d be so lucky to have him just drop dead of a spontaneous heart attack within the next twenty-four hours.”

“No, look. He... doesn’t need to die. We only have to win him over.”

Ernesto opened his mouth. Héctor gave him an exasperated look. “Not that way.”

Ernesto closed his mouth.

“What I mean, is-- he is a man of God. If we tell him what the Federales do to deserters… surely he’d know what is the charitable thing to do, saving someone’s life. That's the point of the Church - giving shelter to the helpless and... and he's helpless and needs shelter, right?”

“A helpless broad-shouldered ox?” Imelda muttered.

“Broad shoulders won’t save me from hanging,” Ernesto snapped, pacing back and forth, dread growing in his chest. “This isn’t about my shoulders, anyway. This is-- this is--”

“This could work.”

“Huh?”

Three pairs of eyes turned suddenly towards Sofía, who in turn gave them all the sweetest smile to ever grace a nun’s face. Well, as long as one ignored the glint in the eye that was more reminiscing of a fox approaching a wounded mouse. “Look at it this way - what is it the gringo loves more than anything?”

Ernesto opened his mouth.

“Aside from that.”

Ernesto closed his mouth.

“... God?” Héctor suggested tentatively.

“Hah, as if. Imelda?”

“Being obeyed?” she said drily, and Sofía’s smile widened.

“Close, but no. He loves being right. Being in the right. Or rather, believing he is. The holier than thou teacher, doing everything by the Book.”

Ernesto quickly glanced around, and was somewhat relieved to see the expressions on Imelda and Héctor’s faces were about as blank as his mind felt. In the end, he cleared his throat. “Can you speak in plain Spanish?”

The smile on Sofía’s face turned into a grin. “What I am saying is that one of us, whoever can act the best, needs to go to our dear leader Father John, and ask for him to confess them. And anything we say in confession…”

“He cannot say to others,” Imelda spoke, her expression brightening. “The seal of confession.”

“Exactly! Now, in the confession, we express our distress over something we learned by listening in to a prayer - where we heard Padre Ernesto say to God he was an escaped soldier terrified to die - and oh no, Padre John, what do we do?” Sofía sighed, bringing a hand over his heart. “It's a crime, but what would Jesus Christ do, Father John? Surely he’d offer shelter?”

Ernesto blinked. “But he… already knows.”

This time, Héctor seemed to have caught on and grinned, showing off his brand new golden tooth. “But he cannot admit that, because it would make him look bad,” he said. “Either he admits to knowing of the crime for days before confession and keeping quiet, or he admits to being guilty of breaking the sacramental seal. Neither would make him look good. Neither would make him feel like he’s in the right. Plus, Jesus would frown upon sending a man to his death.”

Ah. Ernesto hadn’t thought about it that way at all. “And-- you think that would work?”

“It just might,” Imelda said. “Might be worth a try before other solutions are considered.”

More permanent solutions, her tone made it clear enough. Ernesto swallowed and nodded.

“All right. Then, who…?”

“Héctor could do it,” Sofía said. “Though a woman’s tears might work better. Make him feel like the protective Padre. In that case, I could do it.”

That gained her a slightly dubious look from Imelda. “You can cry on command?”

Sofía burst sobbing, so suddenly it caused Ernesto to nearly jump. It was a little terrifying how quickly it happened, really: she was full-on wailing, face streaked with tears. Imelda raised both eyebrows, clearly impressed, while Héctor stood so quickly he caused the chair to fall back with a bang.

“Hey are you all right-- please don’t, I’m sure Imelda didn’t mean to--”

Sofía’s crying stopped, as quickly as it had begun, and she gave a stunned Héctor a very, very wide grin.

“Yes,” she said, voice sweet as honey. “I think it should be me.”

***

John’s walk back to the parish was slow, and full of dark thoughts.

Part of him worried that he had been seen, because he was almost certain he’d heard at least a voice, but it was hard to muster the willpower to focus too much on it. What did it matter if someone saw him weep, saw him with the lit cigarette in his hand? His greatest weaknesses and vices were already laid bare before the Almighty.

I will not remain for long. I cannot bear it. Once I have informed the Archdiocese of that man’s deception, I will ask to be reassigned.

Of course he knew there was a chance he may find himself defrocked, if he grew spiteful enough, desperate enough to drag him down with him, to tell. If he did, John would not attempt to lie. He would admit his sin, accept the punishment-- but God, oh God, he had worked so hard to the cloth he wore. Too hard to allow that sinner to… to ruin everything.

I deserted and ran, he had said. If the Federal army finds me, I’ll hang.

God willing, that will happen before he can talk.

It was a horrible thought, far beneath a servant of God - but it had still come unbidden to his mind, and shamed filled him the next moment. Look how low he’d sunk, how much he had sullied him. He truly was ruined.

He would never be a true man of God.

John’s eyes stung once more, but he refused to shed more tears that day. He stopped in the middle of the orchard he was going through to approach the church unseen, leaned against a tree, and drew in a few deep breaths. Nature walks used to bring him such peace, and now he was desperately grasping for scraps of it. He tried to focus on the rustling leaves, the wind, the birds, a dog whining…

… A child sobbing?

John recoiled, opening his eyes and turning to glance around. He couldn’t see anyone, but sobbing it was, and clearly a child’s. Was someone hurt? He frowned, and followed the noise. “Who’s there?”

A small gasp, a hiccuping sound, and there was the source of it - Miguel, sitting beneath a large tree and hugging the hairless stray dog who’d follow him anywhere, apparently unaware of the copious amounts of drool dripping on his shoulder as the beast let him hold onto it. What… had happened?

“Miguel?” John stepped closer, only to pause when he realized Miguel was looking at him the way a child only looks at you when expecting a scolding, some sort of punishment.

“It’s nothing,” Miguel said quickly, standing up and wiping his face with his sleeve. He was clearly in a rush to get away from him. It stung, truly, to see the boy mistrust him so. Only days ago, he’d liked him. He’d smiled at him. It had taken so little for that to change again.

I’m meant to be their shepherd, but they once again look at me like I’m the wolf.

But they didn’t understand, he was trying to do things right by God - he was guarding their souls, he was trying to save his own, he… he…

“Miguel,” he called out, reaching out tentatively to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I am here to help. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“You may tell me as a confession, and it will be under sacramental seal. You can trust--”

“No,” Miguel snapped suddenly, jerking away from him. He looked up, scowling, but he failed to come across as angry. He only seemed so very sad. “I can’t. Any of you.”

Normally, John wouldn’t have let such behavior stand - he would have at least demanded to know the reason for such an outburst, lectured him on how to properly address his elders and most of all a man of God. The implication he may not take the sacramental seal seriously was nothing short of an insult, but he was so drained, with so much on his mind and such as weight on his soul. In the end, he simply nodded and folded his hands.

“All right. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

A long, suspicious look - both from the boy and his dog. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. It simply feels as though we may both use some company,” John replied, and sat beneath the tree. Miguel stared at him, his expression softening a little, causing John to wonder if perhaps he’d failed to conceal signs of his earlier breakdown as well as he’d hoped.

Bit late to worry about it.

He averted his gaze, saying nothing, and heard Miguel sitting down by his side. The dog wandered around, nosing at leaves, probably looking for something edible. After a brief silence, it was Miguel to speak. “... Is something wrong? You’ve been-- weird.”

John swallowed, trying to ignore how his heart seemed to be beating in his throat. No, he had to stay calm. Surely, there was no way a mere child may know of his sin. “Have I?”

“Sí. I mean, you act--” a pause, probably looking for a polite way to put it. “Different.”

“Well--” John began, about to explain how he only had the salvation of their souls at heart, but Miguel spoke before he could.

“Kinda scary.”

Ah.

I’m meant to be their shepherd. They should not be afraid to seek me out.

“I… suppose I have not been in the best of moods.”

“Did something happen?”

“My faith is being tested. It is not for you to concern yourself about,” John replied, his voice soft. “You are a child.”

A scoff. “I’m not dumb.”

“Ah, that is not what I mean. You are one of the innocent. Yours is the Kingdom of God.”

“Ah.” Miguel paused, clearly unsure how to respond to that. In the end, he shrugged. “Well, I’m not going to be a kid for long. I’ll get older, they’ll kick me from the orphanage, and that’ll be it.”

Oh, John thought, so that was what was bothering him. The memory of the night he’d stumbled out of his home into the night, his clothing torn and blood seeping through the fabric, terror in his chest and despair in his mind, tried to make a comeback. He forced it away.

No such thing will happen to him. He is a good child. He is home here.

“But no one will be forcing you out of Santa Cecilia, no?” John asked, smiling. “Your friends will still be all here.”

A snort. “Some friends,” he muttered, hugging his knees. “I don’t need them. Someone told me he was gonna take me out of here, but he won’t either. Fine. I don’t need anyone.”

“Whatever gave you such thoughts?”

Miguel shrugged, looking away. John supposed it was a clear enough cue that he still had no intention to talk about it. He decided to remain quiet, and wait. It didn’t take too long for Miguel to speak again; he was, after all, a child in need of comfort.

“He didn’t even come after me when I ran off.”

“This... person you’re angry at?”

“Yes. He would have come after me, before. But now he doesn’t care anymore.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t excessively difficult for John to figure out who Miguel may be referring to. He and Brother Hector were usually joined at the hip. “Well, perhaps he has concerns--”

“Oh, I know what concerns he has,” the boy muttered, his voice dripping sarcasm. John raised both eyebrows. He certainly did not approve of Brother Hector harboring… affection towards a woman while a novice, and he’d rather he made up his mind soon instead of keeping up that mockery, but none of it was something to burden a young mind with.

So he drew in a deep breath, and tried to be as accommodating as he could. “If it is who I am thinking, he is… a young man himself. And possibly struggling with faith, and-- these are difficult times. I’m certain he cares about you deeply.”

Miguel seemed to hesitate a moment, then he glanced up at him. “... How would you know?”

Father John Johnson gave a small, pained smile. “I was the oldest of four siblings, and I loved my sisters and brother dearly. I had duties, as the oldest - I won’t bore you with the details - but from time to time, both Sarah and Michael complained I wasn’t paying any attention to them. Perhaps they were right to say so, and I do regret it to this day.” I’ll never see them again. Ruth won’t even remember me. “I cared about them, as much as I always had. But I was trying to be the best example I could be, and did not realize they felt left out.”

“Oh,” Miguel said. He seemed to mull on his words for a few moments before he sighed. “It’s not the same thing. He-- I told him something, and he promised me not to tell, but he told and now… someone else is mad at me. Why would he do that?”

John didn’t know what he precisely was referring to - probably something like having stolen an apple from the market stand, or eaten the last candy, what other secrets could a child have? - and he hummed. “You know, my sister Sarah once showed me she could jump from her window on the tree branch right before it, and climb down to the ground.”

A faint chuckle. “That sounds cool.”

“She made me promise not to tell our Father.” John smiled faintly. “I told him that evening.”

“Ugh.” Miguel rolled his eyes. “Why were you such a spoilsport?”

“I worried she may hurt herself. I had her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t see it that way. Not that day, but-- no. No, she really never forgave me for that.” He smiled, the memory bittersweet in his chest. “But I can promise you, my intentions were good. Sometimes we may be misguided, but… don’t you think that, perhaps, it was the same for Br-- your friend?”

“Well…” Miguel paused a moment, and seemed to be musing on that. He bit his lower lip, feet shuffling a little in the dirt, and finally sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I mean, I was also not supposed to say something, but I told because I thought it was-- the best thing to do.”

“There you go. I am sure he feels the same.”

He nodded and finally looked up at him, tears gone from his eyes. “... Why aren’t you always like this? You know, not a cab-- I mean, nice?”

Ah. “I… understand I may come across as harsh, but I only wish to keep your souls from harm.”

“Yes, but if you just scare everyone…” Miguel made a vague gesture with his hand. “You said people can mean well but be misguided. So, uh… maybe… you know?”

No. Not now. I was misguided before, when I was too soft. Now I’m doing the right thing. I am.

“... I will give the matter some thought,” John found himself saying instead. Miguel smiled, and he smiled back - knowing full well that, once he revealed the truth about the man they believed their beloved parish priest, the boy may never smile at him again.

***

Looking back later on Sofía would think that maybe, just maybe, she had exaggerated a little bit.

Perhaps it would have been best to approach him looking anxious, letting her voice crack a little as she began speaking, and then letting the waterworks start as she got to the meat of it. However, as much as she liked to mock Ernesto over his dramatic flair, sometimes she simply couldn’t resist… and the gringo’s face as he opened the door to the room he had elected as his office to see a nun bawling her eyes out was well worth it. Priceless.

If not for the fact it was a literal matter of life or death, Sofía probably wouldn’t have stopped laughing until Día de los Muertos. Instead, she turned the snicker threatening to leave her in yet another sob and grasped Padre Juan’s cassock, faintly wondering if she could get away with blowing her nose in it. Maybe she would, he seemed stunned enough not to question it.

No, not the moment for that. Focus.

“For the love of-- Sister, what in the-- what has happened-- are you hurt…?” the gringo stammered, and immediately moved aside to let her in, a hand on her upper back - a gesture he certainly wouldn’t have even contemplated under normal circumstances. “Here, here. Please, sit. Dry your tears - what is it, Sister?”

Ah, Sofía thought, men. Mexican, gringo, maricón or not, there really were few who wouldn’t immediately feel obliged to do their utmost to comfort a sobbing woman. She’d had some doubts over the gringo, considering how harsh he had been to Fernanda when she had come to his confessional months ago, but it was working now. Maybe being a bride of Christ helped her there, or maybe the hard work Ernesto had put into mellowing him hadn’t gone entirely wasted.

That, and he was finally getting the chance to act like the saviour he thought he was; of course he wouldn’t let it pass by. It wasn’t often people willingly turned to him for confession.

“Gracias, Padre,” she choked out, sitting down and taking the handkerchief he was handing her. She dabbed her eyes as delicately as she could, holding back from noisily blowing her nose and letting her shoulders shake. The gringo hurried to pour her a glass of water from a pitcher.

“Here, drink. Tell me what’s troubling you,” he said, sitting before her.

He looked pale - well, paler - himself, with dark shadows under his eyes. If he hadn’t been such a cabrón, Sofía might have felt bad for him. She drank half the glass in one gulp before she spoke. “I… I need confession, Padre. What I tell you cannot leave this room.”

The gringo’s forehead scrunched up some, and Sofía could very easily imagine the sins he was mentally accusing her of. He was probably right on several accounts, really, but he needed not know that. In the end, he breathed out and nodded, sitting before her, hands folded.

“Of course. Anything you tell me will be under the seal of confession. God hears you, sister.”

Well, it was time. Sofía drew in a shaky breath and straightened her back just a little, mindful to keep her gaze low, fixed on the handkerchief in her hand. It looked expensive but old, with his initials exquisitely embroidered in a corner; she wondered, in the back of her mind, if it was a memento of his life from before being found out, before being disowned.

“Forgive me, Padre, for I have sinned,” she began, her voice trembling. “I have… I have listened in to something I never ought to have and… and I don’t know what to do.” Another sob. “I don’t want anyone to be harmed on my account.”

“No one will come to any harm,” Padre Juan said, his voice soft. “Tell me what has happened.”

“It… it’s about Padre Ernesto,” Sofía said, and she didn’t need to look up to know the gringo had stiffened: the glimpse at his folded hand suddenly clenching was enough of a clue.

She had expected that. What she did not expect were his next words, quiet, cold as ice.

“... Has he harmed you, Sister?”

“What!” Sofía looked up, stunned at the notion he really believed Ernesto could do something so utterly stupid. Juan blinked, taken aback by her sudden exclamation, and she was quick to lower her gaze again, shaking her head. “No, good Lord, no, he-- he never!”

“Ah.” The gringo cleared his throat, rather embarrassed for jumping to the wrong conclusion for seemingly no reason. “Well, that is-- good. It’s good. Then what has happened?” he asked, sounding… just a touch hesitant. It wasn’t hard to guess he now expected her to confess she had fallen in love with the parish priest or something equally saccharine. It took all of Sofía’s willpower not to roll her eyes. Instead, she swallowed.

“I was in the chapel, it was my turn to clean the pews, and… and I was running late, I was not meant to be there at that time-- I heard Padre Ernesto praying. He didn’t hear me coming in and… and I… listened.” She looked up, eyes huge and brimming with tears. His expression was stony now, but it was clearly not her his anger was directed at. “Oh, Padre, he wasn’t quiet - he was shaking, and weeping, and begging for forgiveness.”

Padre Juan stared at her, the stony expression turning into obvious astonishment. She may as well told him she had witnessed Ernesto flying over the parish. “He-- what?”

She sobbed again, covering her face with her hands. “He said-- he said-- oh, Padre, he is not who he says he is. What I heard, I… I think he escaped from the Federal Army.” A pause, just enough for a shake breath, taking note of the fact that Padre Juan was… not speaking just yet. “He's terrified they might find him-- they will kill him, Padre!” Sofía tore her hands off her face with perfect dramatic flair, looking up at him in what she hoped was a look of utter despair.

Padre Juan… stared at her, his expression blank. And then he stared. And stared some more.

… A little unnerving, that. “Padre?”

“Ah,” he finally said, recoiling as though snapped back to reality. He then proceeded to make the poorest attempt at feigning surprise Sofía had ever seen, and she had seen Imelda trying to pretend she was unaware of Héctor’s obvious pining. “Yes, I… my apologies. You just said-- what you said--” he trailed off, a look of alarm on his face. “Did he admit to-- anything else?”

Sofía fought with all her might to keep herself from cocking an eyebrow at him. “No, only that,” she said, her voice a little more dry than it should have been to keep up the Distraught Damsel Act, but he seemed far too relieved to notice the slip. He cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes. That is. That is indeed. Concerning,” the gringo muttered, his voice rather forced. He wasn’t even trying to go down the ‘you must have misheard’ route. God, he was such an awful liar. “If he indeed is a… an imposter, and a deserter, the appropriate authorities should--”

Sofía gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth in sheer horror. “No! Padre, you said this would be covered by the sacramental seal! The holy secret of confession!”

“I…” Padre Juan opened and closed his mouth for a few moments like a fish out of water, his pale skin suddenly flushing red. Last she’d seen a face like that, the man in question had been trying to pass a kidney stone. “Yes, I… of course… the secret of confession is sacred,” he repeated. Every single word seemed to be causing him pain. Much like kidney stones.

“I heard the things Federales do to deserters, it doesn’t bear to think about!”

“Regardless he-- er-- the Church is not to be mocked, he blasphemed and something ought to--”

“He must be so scared, Padre. Desperate men do desperate things.”

“Of course, but… but…” he stammered, too taken aback by the turn the situation had taken to be his usual sanctimonious self. Sofía had no intention to let him recollect his thoughts.

"I have seen men hang and left to feed the crows for trying to avoid service - we must help him, Padre, por favor, I cannot bear-- the Church cannot stand by and let a man be killed...” a fresh round of tears, hands over her face, but she kept her fingers spaced out just enough to catch a glimpse of him. He looked stunned, frustrated, angered and concerned at the same time.

He knew exactly the position her confession had just left him and oh, he clearly did not like it, but neither would he willingly break something as sacred as the secret of confession. Just as expected. Sofía highly doubted Pope Innocent III was anywhere near innocent and therefore anywhere near Heaven at the moment, but right there and then she could have kissed him with plenty of tongue for enshrining the sacramental seal in canonical law.

In the end, his tense expression melted into a long sigh. He reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Cease your crying, Sister. I can tell this has disturbed you greatly, and that you...you care deeply for Fath-- for Ernest."

… Well. That sounded suspiciously like he’d just gotten the wrong idea about her pleas to protect the man she had supposedly believed to be their beloved parish priest up to that afternoon, but if it helped her, so be it. Sofía grasped his free hand with both of hers, looking up with a sniffle. “Please, help him,” she choked out. “He was so distraught.”

His expression hardened one moment in anger, pain, and God knew what else; he clenched his jaw a moment before, finally, his expression turned blank again. “Of course,” he said, his voice a little distant. “I suppose desperation explains such… intense deception.”

And he did deceive you for a good while, Sofía thought. Longer than you’d like. You were in the best position to see all the things that didn’t add up. But you just didn’t expect a Mexican to be that good a priest in the first place, did you? You’d have clocked a gringo imposter much earlier.

“Sí, Padre,” she said instead. “And the way he prayed, oh, he repents. I am certain that if we have mercy, he will repay the Church for what he did.”

Another pause, a clench of his jaw. It was easy to see he didn’t quite buy Ernesto repenting, and yet he seemed to hesitate. “Are you certain he didn’t hear you coming?”

“Sí, Padre. He had no idea I was there.”

A long breath. “I see. We must… keep this a secret for time being, Sister Sophie.”

She ignored the butchering of her name, as always, and nodded fervently. “I will tell no one.”

“... Very well. I will confron-- talk to him, and… figure out the best way forward,” the gringo said, and let out a long breath. “Is there… anything else you wish to confess?”

“No, Padre,” she replied. He nodded, gaze a little unfocused, and gave her absolution, and his blessing. Sofía thanked him time and time again, mentally patting herself on the back; she had a foot already out of the door when he spoke again, suddenly.

“Sister. He has confessed you in these past months, I am sure, as he did many others. Does it not concern you, to know those absolutions were worth nothing?”

Ah. Sofía turned, her expression somber. The gringo was looking back at her, and he looked haunted. It was easy to guess what that was all about - it concerned him, and a great deal. Her next lie wasn’t for her own benefit, not really. It was for his own. “... Not terribly, Padre. I was sincerely regretful, confessed in good faith, and I am certain God knows as much.”

“I see,” John Johnson murmured, thumbing at the golden crucifix at his neck. “You say he prayed for forgiveness and truly repents. In that case, I’ll talk to him and… see for myself.”

Sofía nodded. “Thank you, Padre,” she said, her expression as grateful as she could make it.

The gringo just nodded back, looking away, and closed the door behind her without a word.

***

“And he actually-- believed all of that?”

Héctor hadn’t meant to sound that stunned - he’d seen first hand how good an act Sofía could put on - but it really sounded… a bit of a stretch. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine Ernesto sobbing out of guilt in the chapel of all things.

Sofía shrugged, finishing her glass of wine. “At the very least, he didn’t reject the possibility. Getting him to entirely believe it is up to him now,” she said, and turned to look at Ernesto, who had been quiet throughout her account of the meeting. Almost eerily quiet, really. “And you better not mess up. Remember, you are extremely repentant and prayed for forgiveness, wish you could undo what you did in your desperation to save yourself and all that.”

Ernesto made a face. He was learning back on his chair, arms folded over his chest. “If I throw this sob story on his lap when he asks, he won’t buy it.”

“Then find a way to sell it. I did,” Sofía replied, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Imelda, by the way?”

“Covering up for your duties while you are ‘indisposed’,” Héctor replied. “She figured this would come across more believable if she told everyone that you told her you were not feeling well.”

“Ah, fair point. I was so terribly upset,” Sofía chuckled, and stood. “We’ll, I should retire and rest, then. If he asks, tell the gringo that I told you I was feeling terribly tired and did not come out since afternoon.” She paused a moment, and reached to put a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. “Look. I think he is willing to hear you out. So please, don’t mess this up. I don’t hate him quite enough to want to move on to plan B and plan out his murder.”

Ernesto looked up at her, let out a long sigh, and nodded. “I won’t mess up,” he muttered, and looked away. “Thank you.”

Héctor turned to follow Sofía with his gaze as she left, then he bit his lower lip and looked back at Ernesto. His gaze was oddly distant, arms still tightly folded. “... You can do this, all right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well…” a sigh, and Héctor decided to drop the matter. He finished his wine glass and stood. “I guess I’ll go looking for Miguel. He was really mad at me when I saw him, for letting you know that he told me about you. What did you even say to him?”

A grunt. “He caught me in a bad moment, is all.”

“Well, you owe the chamaco an apology.”

“Chingate.”

“That was not a request, Ernesto,” Héctor snapped. “Miguel kept the secret longer than most kids his age would have. He’s eight, por Dios. You can’t blame him for caving in.”

“He wouldn’t have had to if he weren’t the only one with the brains to find me out right away!”

Héctor - who did not know, and would never know, how seriously Ernesto had considered silencing Miguel permanently that day - scoffed. “What, now you’re mad because I didn’t find you out? You shouldn’t be. If we had before we got to know you, I… I’m not sure what we would have done.” His voice grew a little weaker as he finished, because it was true and the thought had kept him awake a couple of nights. It caused Ernesto to fall silent, too, before he sighed.

“... Well. I guess I lucked out, the--”

“Father Ernest.” Father John’s voice caused the both to recoil and turn to see him standing in the doorway, hands tightly clasped together. His voice was firm, and rather chilly. “A word, if you please,” he spoke again before either could respond, and then he was walking off again, clearly expecting Ernesto to follow. And, with a long breath, he did, leaving Héctor to anxiously wait.

After all, as he’d put it earlier, what choice did he have?

***

“Sit.”

It was an order, delivered in a rather cold tone, but at least this time around he wasn’t screaming or sobbing. Ernesto found it easier to deal with, however little he liked being ordered around. He did sit, and heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Until not too long ago, having a locked door between them and the rest of the world meant Ernesto was about to enjoy what was to come. He suspected it wouldn’t be the case now, unless Juan had changed his mind rather dramatically, which he doubted.

He was dashingly handsome, but not that dashingly handsome.

“I gave you a chance to leave with your life.” Juan spoke up, and went to sit behind the desk. He looked at him, hands folded and eyes narrowed, remarkably in control. It made Ernesto nervous, but at the same time it was a relief. He had no wish to see him as shattered as he’d been. “You claim you’ll hang if the army gets to you, and yet you did not take that chance.”

“There is no place in Mexico that is safe,” Ernesto spoke, his voice just as firm. “I’m done for the moment you speak.”

A long silence as Juan kept staring at him, expression unreadable. “... Do you repent at all?”

Well, that was it. What Ernesto had told Sofía was true - there was no way he could immediately throw a sob story at him and expect to be believable, because Juan knew him far better than he knew her - so he had to be careful with his reaction. He paused a moment, and then turned away. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

“Even if it meant you’d soil me.” The hurt in Juan’s voice was plain, and it struck a chord Ernesto didn’t even know was there. He clenched his jaw a moment before he spoke again.

“I hadn’t-- thought it would get so far,” he muttered. “All I knew was that I couldn’t let them find me. If you left Santa Cecilia, and mentioned me to anyone who’d know the name of the priest who was supposed--”

“That’s your justification, then. You were afraid of death.”

“What sane man isn’t?”

A long breath. “Answer my question. Do you repent, Ernest?”

“Not leaving the army, never,” Ernesto crossed his arms, forgetting he was supposed to act. But, up to that moment, he did mean every word. “I couldn’t spend one more night in the barracks, or march one more day under the sun, gun down one more civilian or risk my neck for Huerta, or--”

The firing squad. The hangings. The wailing. The battles and the bullets and the death, it all came back at night and we tried not to think, me and the others, and in the dark a body is a body and we only wanted to feel alive again.

Ernesto’s voice died in his throat. The pause that followed was not planned, nor the breath he forced in and out of his lungs, or the words he managed to choke out afterwards. “I only ever wanted to be a musician.”

Another silent, long look. Juan’s expression showed nothing; if not for the dark shadows under his eyes, he’d have looked everything like the insufferable gringo who’s first walked in the parish to immediately criticize everything he did or said. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been praying in the chapel.”

Ernesto looked away. “And…?”

“Praying for forgiveness. Expressing remorse.”

“Nonsense,” Ernesto snapped, both because it was and because it was the only believable answer. “I don’t regret leaving the army, or taking advantage of some gullible parishioners. I--”

“You were seen and heard.”

Now.

Ernesto reared back as if slapped, letting his jaw go slack as though in shock. It was a reaction the gringo had been expecting, clearly, because he could see some of the hardness in his gaze fading. If he’d suspected Sofía’s confession had not been entirely truthful, that ought to have taken care of it. “What--” Ernesto stammered, his bravado gone. “Who…?”

“It is not for you to know.” Juan leaned forward, just a little, eyes searching Ernesto’s. “If not leaving the army, if not deceiving the Church and these people, what is it you regret?”

“I…” Words died in Ernesto’s throat, and it was not an act. Suddenly, holding Juan’s gaze was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Something was there that hadn’t been before, an odd sort of hope that could be snuffed out with mere words. Words Ernesto couldn’t utter either way, because his tongue felt heavy as lead in his mouth. He lowered his gaze, saying nothing.

“... Ernest. I am owed an answer. I am no longer pure on your account, a sinner, unworthy of the cloth I wear. I chose this path in hope to redeem myself, to…” his voice faltered. “To perhaps be worthy of seeing my family again, and you took it from me. Everything I toiled and hoped for may be nothing but ashes now, and--”

“Lo siento,” Ernesto blurted out, and Juan fell silent. Gaze lowered, a weight on his chest-- “No choice! How did you have no choice but to defile me! You ruined me!” -- Ernesto did not look up to see his expression. He heard a sharp intake of breath, then a long sigh, and the sound of a chair being pushed back on wooden boards, followed by steps. He dared look up to see John walking up to the window, giving him his back.

Ernesto opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he’d even say, but the gringo spoke first. “God has spoken to me,” he declared. Ernesto closed his mouth.

Oh, por Dios. He’s lost it.

“If you were a test put before me, I have failed - but I see now that in His mercy, the Lord is giving me a second chance. I will be an instrument of His will, redeem myself not by being the one to throw the first stone - but by being the shepherd who brings the lost sheep back to the flock.” He turned, reaching up to thumb at the golden crucifix at his neck. “As my mentor did for me when I arrived at his parish as a runaway. I was lost, too, and I was found.”

“Huh,” Ernesto muttered. Not his cleverest ever retort, but-- what else was he meant to say? He wasn’t sure what turn he had expected that conversation to take, but that was not it.

“Now. Of course, it is regrettable that the good people of Santa Cecilia are to be deceived any longer than they already have been, but given the situation, I am certain God will be forgiving. It goes without saying that I am to take on the most important duties,” Juan continued. “Sunday Mass, confessions, blessings and such. It is paramount that a real priest performs them.”

Ernesto suspected the parishioners would be less than thrilled by the change, but he knew he had no grounds to argue. “I-- of course. But what am I supposed to do--”

“... And of course, it is also paramount that you spread the true word of God for however long this has to keep up,” Juan cut him off, and dropped something on the table - an old, heavy-looking Bible. Where had he been keeping-- no, wait. He didn’t want to know. “You will study the scriptures, and better yourself through them. We shall be both redeemed.”

“It’s… in Latin,” Ernesto said, looking up. The gringo gave him the slightly manic smile that could only possibly be seen on the face of a missionary with… well. With a mission.

“You’ll learn, Ernest,” he said, and Ernesto suddenly wished he had, after all, taken the chance to run off when he could.

***

[Back]

[Next]

#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #hector rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

#08 with Danbrey, sfw please!

Here you go!

08. I wrote my crush a note except I started it with ‘dear you’ and my friend stuck it into the wrong locker and now you think I have a crush on you

“Dude, chill, you look like you’re gonna pass out in lunch.”

“I’m fine, totally fine.” Aubrey continues jiggling her leg and scanning the quad.

“Gotta side with Jake on this one” Duck pokes her with her unopened tupperware of salad, “c’mon, can’t work your charm on an empty stomach.”

“But what if it slipped out, or I wrote the directions wrong, or she loses it-”

“Dude, I put it in the locker myself, super careful and shit.”

“Uh, Aubrey, is that her?”

“Huh? Uh nope” Aubrey follows Duck’s pointer finger to a blonde girl in a green sweater and copper skirt who is clearly looking for someone. She’s cute, but she’s not who Aubrey is hoping to see.

“You sure? Because now she’s lookin’ right at us.”

Aubrey’s glad she hasn’t eaten, because it would be making it’s way back up.

“Jake, what locker did you put the note in?”

“453?”

“453 B?”

“There’s more than one?”

“That’s the section of school that has an upper and lower level!” Aubrey squeak-hisses as the girl notices her.

“Ohhhhh. Sorry dude.”

Duck whacks his hand against his forehead as Aubrey goes deer in headlights under hazel eyes.

“Uh, hi, Aubrey?”

“Yep.”

“I found this in my locker. I, we have bio and english together, but I hadn’t realized you’d been paying that much attention to me.”

“Yep, I sure have.” Aubrey can’t stop smiling; it’s like some kind of horrible survival mechanism. Crap, what is this girl’s name?

The sweet smile falters, “you don’t know I am, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess ‘dear you’ is kind of vague, so maybe I shouldn’t have assumed, but it was in my locker.”

“There was, um, a mix-up, it was supposed to go in someone else’s but the messenger messed up.”

“Sorry.” Jake gives his best baby-seal sad eyes.

“Okay.” The girl says, sheen of friendliness over her disappointment, “that’s, that’s totally fine. Mistakes happen. Here” she hands back the note, “so you can try again.”

Aubrey takes it, watches her turn, and lets her guilt the better of her, “wait, um, uh, um-”

“Dani.” The girl says flatly.

“Dani, right. Would you, like, want to come to this magic show I’m doing tonight? You seem super cool and my act is pretty good. Duck and Jake are coming, right guys?”

“Apparently.” Duck looks at Jake, who shrugs.

“Uh, sure. That sounds cool.

“Cool. Cool cool.” Aubrey hurriedly scribbles her phone number and the address of the cafe on the back of the mis-delivered note, “see you then.”

As they watch Dani walk away, Duck leans over and mumbles, “did you just ask a girl you barely know on a date?”

“No, I asked her to come to my show. Totally not a date.”

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

Okay, so this totally isn’t a date. Dani finds a spot on the right side of the room, sets her chai latte and scoots the chair across the scratched hardwood.

But if it’s not a date, then where are Aubrey’s two friends? Aubrey asking her feels pretty date-ish (unbeknownst to her, Jake has fallen asleep and Duck is busy “studying” with his boyfriend).

Aubrey takes the stage to mild applause and Dani sighs; she looks so cool, so pretty in her magicians outfit. Just like she looks cool and pretty in her denim vest and combat boots at school, or when she’s staring out the window during class and the light hits her face and hair just right and she looks like a painting.

Dani’s had a crush on her since the fall, has brainstormed with her best friend, Barclay, how to ask her out. But when they inevitably come to the conclusion that asking her out involves actually talking to her, Dani panics and gives up.

When she’d found the note, she couldn’t believe her luck. Then, when she learned the truth, she still couldn’t believe it, because man was that some shitty luck.

Aubrey runs through her act, Dani entranced every moment of it. She’s even more dynamic onstage than she is in class, her energy coursing through the room and making everyone turn and look at her. She has a minor hiccup when her animal assistant, Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, runs off with her prop, but she plays it off and has the audience laughing as she sets the indignant bunny back on his spot.

When the show is over, Dani goes to join her as she packs up her stuff.

“That was so cool.”

“Thanks!”

“Seriously, it was like you’re a professional, you were so incredible up there.”

“Practicing in the bathroom mirror works wonders. And annoys my dad when I do it for two hours non-stop.”

“How’d you do the thing with the fire and the coin? Oh, wait, you're not supposed to reveal your secrets right?”

“I mean that’s kinda like the magician’s code, but…” Aubrey smiles teasingly, tapping her chin in exaggerated thought.

“Please?” Dani bats her eyelashes, making Aubrey giggle, a sound that’s even better up close, and the reaction emboldens her, “what if I buy you ice cream as a trade?”

“Pretty sure I can, like, bend the code for that.” She hoists her bag over one shoulder and lifts Dr. Harris Bonker’s carrier with her hand, “let me just put some stuff in my car first.”

Soon they’re sitting at the nearby Yogurt Castle, on a stone bench outside since they have the rabbit with them. Dani takes a sliced strawberry from the top of her cone and holds it up to the carrier. The rabbit chomps down and devours the fruit with alarming speed.

“Hungry bunny.”

“He wants you to think I never feed him so he’ll get more strawberries. But I do. When I first got him I gave him too many treats and he wouldn’t fit in the compartment for the hat trick.”

“Did he have to go on a bunny diet?”

“Yep” Aubrey licks her spoon and Dani blushes, hoping the darkness covers it, “he ate my boots in revenge.”

“Dr. Harris Bonker’s, that was very rude.”

Aubrey nudges their feet together, “thanks for using his full title, he worked hard for that PhD.”

They spend the next hour just chatting, and Dani learns that Aubrey likes most of the same bands as her and that her face crinkles in the most adorable way when she grins.

“Hey” Aubrey touches her arm as they’re walking back to their cars, “I really liked hanging out with you. Do you, um, wanna hang out again sometime?”

“That sounds great.”

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

“See, when they’re planted like this, the marigolds help keep aphids away.” Dani finishes patting soil around the small plants, budding but not yet blooming.

“Wow. It’s like natures bug control.”

“Yep” Dani nods, adjusting her straw hat, “we try really hard not to use pesticides and stuff in the community gardens. C’mon, let’s go check on the strawberries.”

Aubrey takes her offered hand, standing and following her through the rows of seedlings and saplings, spring sun soaking into her shoulders. She’s been spending more and more of her weekends here in the gardens with Dani helping her when she can and talking with her while she tends to her patches of the space. Dr. Harris Bonkers comes sometimes, Dani insisting that his nibbling on plants is offset by the fact that his poop is excellent compost. Aubrey comes to give them both fresh air, to give the rabbit some enrichment and herself the chance to learn something totally new.

But mostly she comes because Dani is here.

The crush crept up on her little by little, solidified the day Dani suggested they go on a picnic and then made a mini-salad for Dr. Harris Bonkers. Aubrey’s had plenty of crushes over this year, but with Dani it’s like someone whacked her in the head with the two-by-four of love.

Dani kneels down in the earth by the strawberry plants, looking at the leaves and little unripe berries to make sure they’re growing okay. Her hair drapes like molten gold across her face and shoulders, and when she brushes it out of the way she leaves a streak of dirt on her cheek, laugh like a birdsong when she notices. She looks like a goddess, some ethereal creature of sunlight and growth sent to earth. And Aubrey is ready to worship her.

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

“Aubrey, you know you can just ask her out for real, right?”

“But what if she doesn’t believe me or thinks it’s a mistake again or she actually isn’t interested in me but is just being super nice and touchy-feely in a friend way?”

“Because none of that sounds like her?”

“Agggh, what do I do Duck?”

“Please just ask her out already.” Rumbles a voice behind them.

Aubrey and Duck jolt, tun to find the source of the voice is Barclay, Dani’s friend.

“Seriously, all she does is talk about you, which is good because I like seeing her happy, but if I have to hear her agonizing over whether you like-like her one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Is that enough proof?”

“But, like, what if-”

“Aubrey” Duck crosses his arms, “just ask her, or I’m goin’ back on my promise to bunny-sit.”

“Fine.”

“Thank fuck.”

“And I think I, like, maybe have an idea about how to do it…

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

The note falls out when she opens her locker after school.

Dear you, meet me by the red benches out front. Love, your secret admirer

She crosses her fingers and toes as she walks out to the front of the school, hoping to see black hair and a freckled, smiling face waiting for her on that bench.

She does.

“Um, hey.” Aubrey keeps looking nervously down at her shoes.

“This isn’t another mistake, right?”

“Nope. I wanted to ask you out because I’ve got a big fucking crush on you, cutie.”

Dani drops down onto the bench with relief, “thank god because I could not handle that mix-up twice. I have a huge crush on you too, fireblossom. I have for months.”

“Hold the fuck on, months? Like, before we were hanging out? Ugh, oh god, the first note, now I feel like even more of a jerk for the mistake.”

Dani loops her arm over Aubrey’s shoulder, “want to know how to make it up to me?”

“Hoo boy do I.”

Dani cups her chin, leans in and kisses her gently. Aubrey sighs, scooting closer as the kiss deepens and finally ending up in her lap. When they break apart, Aubrey bumps their noses together in what she always calls a bunny kiss.

“Sooooooo this means you want to go out with me, right?” Aubrey smiles, only half-joking.

“Yes, hot stuff, it does.”

Aubrey sighs, kisses her neck before resting against her. And for the third time in months, Dani can’t believe her luck.

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #vampfire #TAZ Amnesty #prompt fills #meet ugly

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pastelgrungewrecker · 4 years

Text

Roads To Heaven, Hell, and Home

Bring me home in a blinding dream Through the secrets that I have seen Wash the sorrow from off my skin Show me how to be whole again

Brainstorm stopped cold as she smiled- her hair grey and wildly wavy and her glasses taped at the nosebridge too many times.

“...Uh, Director Brainstorm?”, said Xaaron, still unused to the title’s taste over his tongue, “Is there something wrong?”

“No, NO! No of course not- Just.”, the scientist chewed on his lip, remembering his fellow lab supervisor in this new Kimia, “Ma’am, may I ask you a question?”

“Oh, certainly dear!”, she said, her cheeriness sounding a porcelain kind of hollow, “As an ex-Professor I thrive on inquisitiveness, after all!”

“Yeah, yeah... Were you an... Altihexian. Professor. by any chance?”

There, there it was- the crack in her smile like fine china after an air raid. Her expression stuttered, a glimpse of too much pain behind too thin a veneer, “A-Ah. Well. Unexpected but... Yes. Yes I was.”

“....You had a child, didn’t you. Black hair and a sharp nose- like yours. You’re. You’re his mother.”

She froze, a deer in the headlights and tears beaded up in her eyes. Xaaron jolted when she darted forward, manicured nails digging hard into Brainstorm’s arms as she gripped tight and nodded.

“Yes-Yes! His name, His name is Perceptor, what do you know, please I need to know SOMETHING; the last I heard is he was employed at the first Kimia colony and then nothing PLEASE-”

“Madame, please-”

“All due respect, Head Director, shut the fuck up!”, she snapped, the fire in her eyes so reminiscent of Perceptor it was painful before she turned back to Brainstorm, “Please, Mister Brainstorm- can you tell me if he’s alive.”

“...Lady I’ll do you one better!”, said Brainstorm, his affectionately manic smile blooming to life on his face, “I’m your son-in-law; Legitimately, and he’s not just alive but I can call him RIGHT NOW.”

“Brainstorm, surely now is not the time-”, began Xaaron angrily before quailing slightly under a sudden harsh glance.

“Mister Fancy Director Pants? You REALLY shouldn’t talk about family matters, y’know. Especially considering YOU’VE known Perceptor longer than ANY of us.”

The anger suddenly resonating from the madame scientist was nearly palpable as she released Brainstorm and slowly turned halfway to let her glare bore holes into the gold-dressed man beside her.

Brainstorm rolled his eyes at Xaaron’s nervous throat clearing and made a shooing motion with his hands, not stopping until Xaaron turned on his heel and stalked out of the labs. Those hands went to the woman’s shoulders.

“Here, have a seat okay? I’ll comm Percy, and get him down here- he’s helping some of his Wrecker buddies with shipping and security. But... But I do have to warn you, okay?”

“Warn me?”

Brainstorm sighed as she slowly perched on one of the lab stools before he gently took her hands in his own, “Percy’s... He’s been through a lot. We all have, but... The reason Xaaron probably kept info on lock has to do with. Well. Prowl. And the Wreckers. You know who the Wreckers are, right?”

“Of course I do- I remember hearing about a new branch of Special Operations under that name, that they were vicious and violent and... not very good people.”

“...Prowl assigned Percy to them. And it was. It was bad. Henearly died a couple times- and he’s got the scars to show it. So... So don’t be freaked out, okay? He’s still Percy, I promise- and kind of a dick sometimes.”

She nodded slowly, curious and suspicious as Brainstorm put a hand to his commlink at his ear. He stepped away, murmuring quietly- snorting a laugh once or twice before whispering his agreement and giving the distraught woman a thumbs up.

She wrung her hands, pushing her glasses up with the heel of one palm as time seemed to slow. Brainstorm spoke quickly and quietly but somewhere in the conversation he looked away from her and wouldn’t return his gaze; as though there was something ashamed in his words or worse- regretful.

He was showing her a few of the pictures on his personal commline, pictures of her grandkids (she had so many! She nearly cried when she saw little smiles in holocap form) when the door hissed open.

“Brainstorm, what’s this about then, Xaaron stopped me halfway here to bitch about your attitude; were you giving the old man trou....ble...”

The ex-sniper’s footsteps were slow and measured as the woman perched on a lab stool met his eyes- eyes he hadn’t seen in far too many summers to count and suddenly he felt entirely too self conscious. Too afraid.

“Brainstorm, who is that.”

“P-P-P-”, she stammered, her glasses already damp with tears as she got to unsteady feet, “Perceptor, when they said the district was, they evacuated us ad I didn’t... I couldn’t... I searched every day, I kept my ear to every wall and floor and- Oh, oh darling your EYES-”

He took a step back when she took a step forward. Brainstorm winced when a soft sob squeaked out from her chest, and put a hand on her shoulder, “Prove it, I know you can- You’re his mom which means you know things no one else could know...”

Perceptor’s hand hovered over the holster on his thigh; her eyes watched the movement before she nodded and choked on her next words.

“Y-You never did like pr-practicing your violin, I can tell you haven’t t-touched one in years.”

His hand stopped.

“When you told us; your father and I, that you were Perceptor now- he was so hateful, so angry- and I didn’t have the courage to stop him yet.”, she choked, taking another step forward, “And he sent you off again- to Academy. He sent you off and told you he wouldn’t let you step foot in his house again.”

Perceptor’s eye watered, spilling over as his chest jumped from quiet hiccups.

“And I told him that the only one who’d never walk in the home again was him. And he was gone, then, and moved back to the corporate district.”, she continued, in time with her steps, “Because more than anything in this world, you were my baby and I’d be damned if someone so cold tried to take me away from you but then the world burned down and...”

“I-I. When I heard Altihex had been raided I rushed back, I took emergency leave and no one knew where you were; Father’s house was in shambles, he was... Gone.”

“Dead, I know.”, she said quietly, “They evacuated the university when the bombs began to fall- shipped us out. Some... import-export colony beyond the Outer Ring settlements, to keep our research safe.”

They were a hair’s-breadth apart now, and she reached out to hold his face in her hands and his eye closed at the feel of her familiarity and the smell of perfume and solvent like altar incense.

“And you always hated practicing your violin- and the only way I could convince you was to promise to take you stargazing at the end of the week.”, she said thickly, “You loved the stories of shapeshifter gods and their constellations. You’d ask me to tell you the stories every time.”

“I always changed the names, in my head.”

“I know, babymine, I know.”, she hiccuped, her tears leaking out in sluggish drips like honey and ambrosia, “Do you still have the necklace I gave you, when you graduated Academy? The little meteorite chip?”

Brainstorm’s eyes widened, remembering seeing a thin silver chain around Perceptor’s neck every so often at home with an odd polished stone, “You mean that... odd crystal pendant? Percy wears it during the holidays usually-”

Perceptor hiccuped once before wrapping his arms furiously around this woman’s waist and nearly lifting her off her feet as he buried his face against the front of her shoulder. She yelped once before smiling shakily and her own arms going around Perceptor’s shoulders- smoothing his wavy hair out of his face and biting her lip when she saw the starburst scarring around his eye.

“Oh, oh babymine.... what did they try to do to you?”

“They almost killed me Mumma.”, he said weakly, “And then they made me kill for them.I wouldn’t have survived this long if I didn’t.”

He set her back onto her feet, her flats making soft sounds against the tiled floor as she smoothed his hair back again and tugged the small patch away in the same motion. She gently kissed his eyebrow- where the scarring laced trough the inkdark line in ragged trails before she took his hands in her own softer ones.

A kiss to each palm before she looked back into his scared and mourning eye and put his hands against her cheeks.

“Mumma’s here now, babymine- no one’s gonna hurt you never ever again.”

“Do you promise.”, he rasped.

“Cross my heart.”

Her touch left his hands to drag two fingers over her chest in an X shape and he fell against her again, the both of them staggering before dropping to the floor in a pieta of painful reunification- a mourning Mary and her twice reborn messiah-child.

Brainstorm’s heart felt like it was breaking as he took his place as a new Peter, kneeling beside them and letting her head lean against his chest as the pair cried for the years lost and burned and blasted into dust; memories tainted with air raid sirens and stiffly delivered condolences.

#pastelwrites #HUMANFORMERS #perceptor #brainstorm #percymom #crim is gonna wake up see this and roundhouse me in every shin i have

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foxgloveprincess · 3 years

Note

For FWF: How many WIPs do you have, in which fandoms? And how many do you think you'll actually finish? ;D

Well here’s the thing. I’ve been writing stories since I learned how. I have MANY abandoned WIPs in the deep recesses of my external hard drive (so I won’t mention those). And many WIPs that I haven’t abandoned, but haven’t thought about in months (or years)...

So, here we go, the current list of WIPs (not abandoned, currently residing on my iPad, cause that’s where I work most often):

Works in Progress = 9

3 Original works

1 Cats the musical (really exposing myself here aren’t I?)

1 Twilight (oh, dear god)

1 Agents of Shield (which is this close to being abandoned)

2 Avengers/Captain America (both series, one close to completion)

1 The Devil All the Time (a sequel that I didn’t think I would be writing)

But I also have 8 brainstorms/ideas/plans for more Avengers fanfic that haven’t developed into full-fledged WIPs yet.

As for finishing them, I hope to finish at least one of the original works. The TDATT is in progress and going to be completed, as is one of the Avengers/Captain America stories (both very soon). The brainstorms are next on my docket to be written along with the other Avengers fic that I’ve just barely started.

The others, I have no idea. I want to, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I will. However, I did start a Once Upon a Time fanfiction in 2014 and finished it in 2019 (now on AO3)...so I guess anything is possible.

ask my about my writing for fanfic writer friday!

#✨rachel replies✨#i’ll answer anything #honestly #promise #i love when people ask me questions #theoneandonlymagicscientist #fanfic writer friday #ffwf

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tanookikiss · 4 years

Photo

This is the direct sequel to Burned Again.

Summary: Nikolai invites Akai over to dinner to meet his family.

This was written as a True Love’s kiss prompt between Akai and Nikolai requested by @cosmicrealmofkissteria

Thank you Shandi and @misslivvie for helping me brainstorm ideas again and for helping me piece out this long story. Whew! 10 pages, folks…but I didn’t have the heart to cut anything out.

Rating: T for language and innuendos.

Pairing: DemonAnkh and Nikai

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“She is fire, he is ice.

One glimpse of her ignites

His stone-cold eyes

The heat of her body

Melts the frozen parts of his heart

He walks through flames

Just to feel her warmth.”

-Christy Ann Martine

…

Vinneketh had spent the greater part of the afternoon making sure the dining table was set to perfection. Black colored napkins accented the gold colored table cloth. The finest porcelain china and silverware were placed delicately upon the napkins. A few eucalyptus candles were placed on each end. In the center of the table was a delicious culinary display of buttery rolls, a vibrant colored vegetable salad, golden honey drizzled dates, and a plate of smoked fish that looked proud to be dead.

Vinneketh smiled at his hard work. He loved having guests over for dinner and took great pride in his cooking. When Nikolai announced he was bringing a special lady friend home, the dancer knew this occasion called for his best dinner recipes. The sound of lip smacking snapped him out of his light trance.

“Demon! That’s your eighth roll! Save some for the guest,” Vinneketh sighed, pulling the bread basket away from him.

“Hmph! Of all the eligible women he could have picked, he just had to fall for The FireChild,” Demon snorted, licking the last bit of buttery goodness off his fingers.

“Beloved, I want you to be kind to our guest. The poor child has had to deal with so much trauma already.”

Demon looked up at his husband as if he had lost his mind. “She’s dealt with trauma!? What about Asim? Did you see the scars on her after the fire? It’s a miracle she’s still alive! I can’t believe you’re allowing that ticking time bomb into our home and around Ayesha! They should have locked that pyrokinetic maniac up and threw away the key!”

Vinneketh scoffed, putting his hands on his hips. “Darling, may I remind you that I was at her trial with Master Radames. I’ve faced many evil adversaries in my time, and I can assure you that girl is no monster. The fire was an accident.”

“Accident or not that does not erase what she’s done. What if she has another accident tonight? Nikolai and I are fireproof but you and Ayesha are not!” Demon growled, reaching for another roll.

“Beloved!” Vinneketh hissed, slapping his husband’s gluttonous hand away from the bread basket. “She’s under great guidance now.”

“Dahlia thinks she needs more training,” Demon deadpanned, sneaking a date off the table to munch on much to his Treasure’s annoyance.

Vinneketh sighed and rolled his eyes. “Beloved, please, our son seems quite fond of her.”

“Yeah, Nikolai even says her name in his sleep,” Ayesha giggled, nibbling on a roll that she had cleverly stolen while Vinneketh was guarding them from Demon.

Vinneketh grabbed the bread basket, holding it tightly to his chest. “No more rolls until dinner!”

Ayesha grinned, slipping her Baba another roll much to her Aiutu’s displeasure.

“I swear between you two we won’t have anything left for dinner,” Vinneketh said, squinting his eyes at the two sneaky roll thieves.

Demon smirked while splitting the roll with his daughter. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. No food means no dinner with The FireChild.”

“You know, StarChild thinks very highly of her.” Vinneketh added, straightening up a nearby napkin.

“Pah! She’s his number one stalker! All of KISSteria knows about her little infatuation with the Star Prince. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s using my son to get close to StarChild,” Demon grunted, chewing up the last bit of the roll.

“Why would you even think such a thing?” Vinneketh scoffed, setting the bread basket back down on the table in a huff.

“Think about it, Treasure. I’m StarChild’s blood brother. I’m bound to him for life. She’s using Nikolai to get to StarChild. Our son is far too good to be somebody’s pawn!”

Ayesha looked concerned. She did not like the idea of her brother getting played at all. Still in deep thought, she exited the dining room while chewing on her roll piece.

Vinneketh sighed. “Beloved, you’re over reacting. If you behave tonight, I’ll make sure you get a special dessert later on,” he purred, wrapping his arms around Demon’s shoulders.

Demon grinned lewdly. “I do like your special desserts.”

The two had time to share a brief kiss before Ayesha called for them.

“Aiutu! Baba! They’re here!”

Ayesha ran over to give her big brother a tight hug. The young demon male laughed lightly, returning the loving embrace. He was getting used to these hugs! Akai smiled warmly at the two siblings.

“I don’t like this…not at all,” Demon said in a sing-song voice low enough for Vinneketh to hear.

“Are you going to be this problematic when Ayesha starts dating?” Vinneketh whispered back.

Demon looked offended. “Treasure, don’t be ridiculous! If anyone looks at our little girl in a lustful way, they will be dead before crossing the threshold,” he chuckled darkly.

“Ayesha, this is Akai. Akai, this is my sister, Ayesha,” Nikolai smiled, introducing the two.

Ayesha looked up at the tall, pale skinned, red headed woman fidgeting awkwardly beside her brother. The FireChild didn’t look quite as menacing as her Baba had described.

“Hello Ayesha! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I love your dark pink headscarf,” Akai said sweetly, extending her hand to Ayesha.

Ayesha smiled. “Thank you! It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” she responded, reaching out to shake Akai’s hand.

“Ayesha! Stop!” Demon bellowed out, pulling Ayesha away from Akai before the two could make physical contact.

“Father, what are you doing?” Nikolai asked, scoffing at his father’s absurd behavior.

“Baba didn’t get his hug today,” Demon awkwardly added, hugging Ayesha tightly against his chest, glaring daggers at Akai. “You better not break my son’s heart!”

“Akai! My dear! Welcome to our home!” Vinneketh jumped in to prevent an awkward scenario, hugging Akai tightly.

“Treasure…that’s enough contact,” Demon whispered harshly through clenched teeth.

“I’m Vinneketh and that obnoxious brute is my husband, Demon,” he said, holding Akai’s hands, side eyeing Demon a warning, daring him to say something else!

“Thank you for inviting me into your home,” Akai said, bowing her head in respect. “I have brought you both a thank you gift from Earth.” Akai offered Vinneketh a bottle of expensive wine from Napa Valley.

“Ooh a vintage wine! Isn’t that nice, Beloved?” Vinneketh grinned, nudging Demon in the side.

“Oh yes, just what we need! Igniting fluid for the fire!” Demon complained, looking up at the sky as if to ask the Gods, why me?

Akai shifted her eyes around the room uncomfortably.

“Father, what exactly are you trying to imply?” Nikolai asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Why don’t we go into the dining room?” Vinneketh suggested, ushering everyone into the next room. When no one was looking, Vinneketh mouthed “Behave” to a disinterested Demon.

Akai and Nikolai sat together on one side of the table while Demon and Vinneketh sat directly across from them. Ayesha was about to sit next to Akai until Demon objected.

“Ayesha! Come sit over here next to Baba.”

“Father, Ayesha is a grown woman. She can sit with whoever she chooses,” Nikolai said coolly, staring his father down.

Ayesha was torn. A part of her wanted to sit next to Akai to learn more of this mysterious woman, but she didn’t want to disobey her Baba either.

“Yeah, but she’s safer over here,” Demon growled at Nikolai.

“Right…she’s much safer next to a fire-breathing, short-tempered demon,” Nikolai spat, rolling his eyes.

“It’s Okay, Nikolai. Ayesha can sit with her father,” Akai said kindly, gesturing to the scowling demon in front of her.

Vinneketh said a prayer over the food, offering thanks to the Gods for the bountiful harvest and for bringing the family together. When Vinneketh offered a thanks for the guest, Demon let out a loud snort to which Vinneketh kicked him under the table. Once the prayer was over, silence befell upon the table while everyone ate. The tension was so thin it could be cut with a butter knife. Akai tried to keep her eyes solely on her plate. Every time she looked up; a pair of angry eyes were glaring at her. She didn’t know who was worse. Ayesha glared while cutting into her fish as if to send Akai a subtle message. Demon would let out a lofty growl, clutching onto the water pitcher beside him.

“Say something nice to our guest,” Vinneketh whispered to Demon as he took a bite of his salad.

Demon thought for a minute and then blurted out, “That was pretty hilarious when you set those KISSterian nobles on fire at the castle!”

Akai dropped her fork on the floor, looking up in horror. Vinneketh facepalmed himself. He didn’t know why he bothered anymore!

“Really, father?” Nikolai scoffed, looking up from his plate.

Demon shrugged. He couldn’t understand why everyone was so annoyed with him. “What? It’s a compliment! I hate those snobs! That was the only good thing that came of that nigh—” Demon was silenced by a roll shoved in his mouth by Vinneketh.

“So, how did you two meet?” Vinneketh asked sweetly, using his fork to gesture from Akai to Nikolai.

Akai grinned shyly, looking at Nikolai. “We met at the KISSterian Court.”

“The night of the fire?” Demon asked with a mouthful of roll.

“Yes, father, that night,” Nikolai replied dryly before taking another bite out of his salad.

“Nikolai asked me to dance. Well, he tried to at first but his head collided with a low hanging chandelier,” Akai snickered.

Ayesha giggled lightly at the thought of her brother making a fool out of himself in public.

“I still have the bump on my forehead too,” he smiled back at Akai.

“Gracefulness does run in Demon’s family,” Vinneketh teased, smiling slyly at Demon who merely snorted in return.

“After I got my head bandaged, I came back and asked again. She surprisingly said yes. So, we danced, me all banged up and bloody bandaged, and Akai, beautiful and radiant as a ruby,” Nikolai swooned, grabbing Akai’s hand. She lightly gasped at his cooling touch. She knew she should be used to it by now but it still seemed to always catch her by surprise.

Akai blushed at the compliment. “Well, how could I say no? Your clumsiness was so adorable,” she smiled, looking into his captivating dark eyes.

“Is that when you caught the castle on fire?”

And like a screeching record, the tender moment was gone thanks to Demon.

“Demon!” Vinneketh hissed, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Actually, how do we know when you’re about to ignite?” Demon added quickly, receiving another swift smack from his Treasure.

“Father, that’s not very appropriate,” Nikolai interjected, using his other hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Akai shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “No…it’s okay. I understand why you’d be so curious. Well…it happens when I lose control of my emotions. I used to think it only happened whenever I was angry, but I’ve recently discovered from the Sisterhood that it can happen anytime whenever my hormone levels are high.”

“So, you can ignite yourself during intercourse too?” Demon asked casually, chewing on another roll.

Akai choked on her water. At once the room erupted in collective gasps and surprised shouts.

“Father!”

“Baba!”

“Beloved!”

Demon shrugged again. “What? Nikolai’s room is right next to ours. I have a right to know what happens when he sticks his log into the firepit.”

Ayesha had broken out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Blushing a bright red, Akai wanted to crawl under the table and die. Vinneketh and Nikolai were both shooting Demon venomous glares.

Desperate to change the subject, Akai chimed in, “Vinneketh, this food is delicious! The fish is cooked to perfection.”

Vinneketh smiled, placing his hand on his heart when he spoke, “Why, thank you, my dear! It’s an old family recipe.”

Before Akai could reply, Demon jumped in, “Yeah, too bad it’s not burnt to a crisp like you did to poor Asim.”

And there it was, the elephant in the room. The one topic Akai was afraid would get brought up tonight. It was obvious Demon hated her from the start. She had hoped, no prayed, it would not get brought up. She couldn’t even bring herself to make eye contact with anyone at the table. Nikolai kept stroking her hand as if to reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

Akai’s breathing hitched. “It…it was an accident, I swear…”

“Your accident nearly killed a close friend of ours!” Demon shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“Father, stop this at once! You’re upsetting her!” Nikolai shouted, feeling Akai start to tremble anxiously.

Vinneketh grabbed Demon’s arm. “Beloved, this is not an appropriate conversation at the dinner table!”

Akai closed her eyes. She could hear the screams and smell the fire smoke. She tried to picture Asim. Alone and afraid. Her body engulfed with fire, screaming for help. Just screaming for someone, anyone to stop the pain.

“I…I…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry,” Akai’s voice cracked as is she was talking to a burnt Asim laying before her. She could feel a knot in her stomach that was working its way up her throat.

“Sorry is not going to change the past. You hurt her! She will most likely never recover from these injuries!” Demon roared, pointing an accusing finger at Akai.

Akai’s breathing became erratic. “I’m sorry…” A sob escaped from her throat.

“Father! I said…LEAVE HER ALONE!” Nikolai’s voice shifted into a warped demonic tone. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, revealing two white orbs in the eye sockets. Releasing Akai’s hand, he clutched onto the table, baring his fangs, growling like a vicious beast.

“What is happening?” Ayesha asked, noticing a change in the environment. The power flickered on and off a few times before shutting off completely. The only light source came from the soft candlelight glow on the table.

“DON’T YOU DARE BARE YOUR FANGS AT ME, BOY!” Demon’s demonic voice roared. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. The candle lights casted eerie shadows on their faces, giving them a more sinister appeal.

With a sudden strong guest of wind, the room temperature started to rapidly drop to a freezing degree. Within seconds, it felt like being inside of a freezer. Tiny water droplets on the glasses began to crystalize into icicles. Thick clouds of condensation escaped out of everyone’s mouths.

“Oh, Goddess! It’s freezing in here!” Akai yelped, shivering from the intense cold.

“It’s s…s…s…so c..c…c…cold,” Ayesha said through chattering teeth, folding herself into a fetal position to attain body warmth.

“Nikolai, stop this at once!” Vinneketh demanded, rushing over to comfort Ayesha.

Was Nikolai manipulating the temperature? Akai looked at the younger demon in fear. Nikolai had always been so calm and collected around her. She had never seen his demonic side or knew much about his power. She had only just discovered how cold his touch was to hers. It made sense that he could control ice.

Demon and Nikolai kept baring their fangs and snarling at each other like two rabid dogs about to fight to the death. Things were spiraling out of control too fast.

“Oh no,” Akai whispered as a little flame lit up on her hand. It quickly started to spread up her arm. Under regular circumstances, she would have welcomed the fire for warmth but right now was not a good time to lose control!

Ayesha saw the fire spread up Akai’s arm and immediately grabbed the water pitcher next to Demon and threw the water on Akai. Akai screamed bloody murder at the icy water stung painfully on her skin. It felt like thousands of glass shards were stabbing into her arm.

“ENOUGH!” Vinneketh bellowed as a blast of magical energy coursed through the room. With a snap of his fingers, the power came back on and the room temperature reverted back to normal. Demon and Nikolai were morphing back into their regular selves while Akai sat in shock, trembling from the pain in her arm.

“Akai, dear, are you quite alright?” Vinneketh asked in concern, noticing the bright pink shade on her arm.

“I…need to be excused,” Akai sniffled, storming out of the room. Ayesha got up and followed her out.

“Akai, I…” Nikolai tried to say but Akai wouldn’t even look at him as she left the room. He tried to get up to go after her but with another magical burst of energy, he remained glued to his seat, looking up at Vinneketh with pleading eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere near her until you calm down!

Vinneketh turned his attention to the ultimate troublemaker of the night. “And you…I want to have a word in private.”

“But Treasure…”

“NOW!” Vinneketh shouted in a tone that echoed all throughout Sphynxia.

And like a flick of the switch, the big bad demon was reduced to a scared little puppy.

“Yes dear…” he mumbled, following Vinneketh with his head bowed in shame.

…

Akai had managed to find a nearby bathroom. She sobbed quietly, examining her arm. It felt numb to the touch. A gentle knock was heard at the door. Ayesha came in with a warm towel and a potion bottle.

“This will help make the inflammation go down,” she said softly, applying the cooling liquid on Akai’s injured arm. It felt nice. Not nearly as soothing as Nikolai’s touch, but still just as effective.

“T…thank you,” Akai sniffled, watching as the inflammation slowly started to go down.

“I’m sorry I threw the water on you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just afraid that if Baba saw you in flames then things would have gotten much worse,” Ayesha explained, looking up at Akai with apologetic eyes.

“It’s okay, Ayesha. I understand,” her voice trembled. “I’m not upset about that. It’s just…I’m so tired of everyone hating me for something that I had no control over at the time. I’m aware I hurt innocent people. It’s something I have to live with every day for the rest of my life. I’m learning more and more about my power each day. And I’m trying my best to contain it.”

Ayesha placed a comforting hand on Akai’s shoulder. “I believe you, Akai. You’re very remorseful over your past actions. You don’t seem like the type that would hurt anyone on purpose. I’m just…I have to know, are you using my brother to get with Prince StarChild?”

Akai looked at the stern younger woman with wide eyes. “What? No, of course not! Yes, I have a soft spot for StarChild because he saved me from life imprisonment, but I know we’re never meant to be. Besides I would never use anyone like that, especially your brother! Nikolai…means a lot to me,” her voice trailed off.

Ayesha nodded in approval. “You mean a lot to him too. It takes real foolhardiness to challenge Baba like that!”

Akai smiled, shaking her head. “Nikolai has always been good to me. He was the first real friend I ever had. He’s such a great guy. He’s so sweet, so charming, so intelligent…he’s so…” Akai was lost in deep thought. “He deserves better. I’ve caused too much trouble already. I’m sorry, Ayesha. I have to go,” Akai said abruptly, pulling her arm away and running out the door.

…

Vinneketh paced back and forth in the kitchen. “Beloved, I am appalled by your rude behavior tonight! What has gotten into you!? You insult our guest and threaten our son!”

Demon folded his arms in defense. “Well, he bared his fangs at me first and excuse me for trying to protect my family from danger!”

Vinneketh threw his arms up in the air. “Danger? What danger? Darling, Akai has done nothing wrong tonight! You’re the one antagonizing her. We’re all having to protect her from YOU.”

Demon paused in thought. It was true. Akai had been polite and not done anything to warrant such hostility. “I’m…sorry, Treasure.”

Vinneketh sighed, placing his arms around Demon. “Beloved, I remember a certain misunderstood demon with quite a past. I heard many troublesome stories about you but that didn’t keep me away from you, did it?”

“No…it didn’t,” Demon sighed, leaning his forehead on Vinneketh’s forehead.

“Remember how many people objected to our relationship in the beginning?”

Demon tensed up. “Yes…and they had no right to try to keep us apart!”

Vinneketh stroked Demon’s cheek lovingly. “Exactly. They were convinced you would wreck my heart and my homeland. But you know what? We proved them all wrong, dearest! You proved yourself a hero and we proved to them all that we belong together.”

“Yes…Yes, we did,” Demon said softly, rubbing his hands around Vinneketh’s waist. “I would be so lost without you.”

Vinneketh smiled, placing a sweet kiss on Demon’s forehead. “Now don’t you think Akai deserves that same chance too? You both have a lot more in common than you realize.”

Demon sighed. “You’re right, my love. I…didn’t think about it that way.” He then smiled warmly at the man who had danced his way right into his black heart so long ago. “You really are a treasure.”

The two shared a long passionate kiss. Demon tilted Vinneketh’s head back to deepen the kiss, rubbing his hands up and down the slender man’s back. Vinneketh smiled into the kiss, pulling Demon closer to him. They were getting lost in their loving embrace, forgetting about the world around them until Nikolai’s voice rang through the house.

“Akai! Wait!”

Nikolai had appeared before Akai, blocking her path to the exit.

“Nikolai, I have to go. Your father does not want us together…no one wants us together. We’ll never be accepted by anyone.” She shook her head in anger. “I’ve hurt too many innocent people. You deserve someone better.”

“To hell with what he thinks or anyone thinks! Fuck that noise! You’re a good person. You didn’t do it on purpose,” Nikolai insisted still persistently blocking Akai from leaving.

“Just let me go…” She was trying her hardest not to cry. “Why the hell do you care so damn much!?” she screamed, trying to push her way around him.

“Because I love you!”

Akai looked at him in disbelief. She was expecting him to apologize for a slip of the tongue or even look remotely ashamed but neither of those things happened. Softened brown eyes met curious blue ones.

“I love you, Akai. I…I always have. Please don’t go. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I know I’m not StarChild. Hell, I’ll never be anything like him but I do love you so much. I want to be with you,” he said softly, grabbing her warm hands. The warm feeling that he had loved since the first time they made physical contact, knowing deep down he couldn’t live without her touch.

Akai felt like she was in a dream like state. Time had stood still as she kept her gaze locked on his. Something about him soothed the fiery beast within her and it seemed as though she was able to soothe the cold beast within him. They needed each other.

“I love you too, Nikolai,” she confessed, realizing that he was in fact her missing piece.

Nikolai captured her lips in a deep kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her closer. Akai smiled into the cooling comfort of the kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. What happened next surprised everyone in the room. Akai’s body began to glow in a vibrant red colored energy. Nikolai’s body lit up in an electric blue colored energy. The red and blue colored flames crackled and sizzled together as the bodies intertwined into one. Heat and cold energy circulated between them. As soon as the kiss ended, the energy waves ceased.

“Akai…” came Demon’s voice.

Nikolai and Akai turned their attention over to the surprised audience all watching slack jawed just a few feet away.

Demon rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I haven’t been very fair to you…to both of you,” he gestured to Nikolai before turning back to Akai. “It would be my honor if you would stay.”

“Really?” she asked surprised at the sudden change of Demon’s temperament.

“Yeah, really. So…umm…welcome to the family!” he said hastily, grabbing Nikolai and Akai, pulling them in for an intense, python-like group hug. Nikolai and Akai gasped and looked at each other in a mix of shock and horror while Ayesha and Vinneketh observed the trio fondly.

As soon as Demon released them from his iron grip he announced, “Alright…let’s get back to dinner. C’mon Ayesha! Those last two buttery rolls have our names on them.” Grabbing Ayesha’s hand, he led the way back into the dining room.

Vinneketh sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “Well…at least we’re making progress.”

“Is he always like that?” Akai asked Nikolai, gesturing to Demon.

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m afraid so…it’ll be something you’ll have to get used to…that is if you decide to stay.” Worry washed over his face in case Akai still decided to leave.

Akai grinned, nuzzling up to him. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Nikolai.”

“You two better not be doing any inappropriate stuff! Not until we at least fire and ice proof this place!” Demon called out from the other room.

Vinneketh was about to object until he realized this time his Beloved did have a valid point…

Nikolai groaned, rolling his eyes. Akai smirked, hooking her finger around Nikolai’s finger. The red and blue energy returned on their hands as the two followed Vinneketh back into the dining room.

#shandi's kissteriaverse #Akai Rogers #Nikolai #Nikai #DemonAnkh #Demon x Vinneketh #tanookiroxx #dinner date disaster #fanfiction #romance #yaoi #m/f romance #kissterian oc #kissteriaverse #demon spawn #pyrokinetic #The FireChild

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