#only two of them got stuck with lasting consequences for it???? hm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

95 notes · View notes

sxfik · 3 years

Text

han seo headcanons (part 4)

writing this is cathartic tbh. of course, i always write on the days i have an exam to prep for (aka my lit exam tmrw thats technically today)!! we make good life decisions here at clown nation <3

< prev

read on ao3

tw: mentions of abuse

the first time they competed, vincenzo was away on his buisness trip to italy. he had some loose ends to tie up after his little contract and getting paulo off the helm of the mafia.

which meant that jipuragi was particularly empty without the italian-korean's presence. no one to give han seo a pat on his back. no one to look over cha-young's shoulder.

they all felt it hard, as if the firm had a huge hole where vincenzo is supposed to be

han seo felt himself looking at his desk every single time he passed by it. the first day was more jarring than the rest, he had gotten used to vincenzo's presence in his life.

it was a particularly late friday night at jipuragi. han seo lugged into the firm a gigantic stack of contracts and internal documents about babel so the laywers and him can go through each one. cha-young had to carry both her and vincenzo's load for that week with vincenzo in italy.

they were stressed and tired and had a million paper cuts from sorting through each pile of documents. all three of them were working quietly, the silence comfortable, save for the sounds of russling paper and pens scratching across notepads

"alright, i'm off for the night. i have a airplane competition tomorrow morning and i need jason to fly far for me so i can finally win that 500 dollar prize. goodnight byeonosanim, mr. jang" the paralegal said as he put on his satchel and took out his cycle. he waved his goodbyes as the he left, leaving han seo and cha-young in the office by themselves.

they had only known each other for two weeks, really. han seo always met his hyung vincenzo over drinks or over at his house. he only ever saw the pretty lawyer from a distance, usually when taking note of how his hyung vincenzo dotes over her just so he can tease him about her

and use her to distract his hyung

it always works

cha-young didn't know much about the young ceo, despite meeting him a couple times from her time at wusang. part of her never wanted to trust him, even though he had proven himself and his loyalty to vincenzo, because in the world she lived in, everyone could betray the other at any time

but his presence in the office was comforting to her. he had come in, dressed like an 80s disco star and all asking if he could join the team, and somehow, he stuck with her.

something in her wanted to trust him. he seemed unassuming and loyal to the core, especially to vincenzo. the way he always walked into the firm grinning, visiting the plaza residents. he had an energy about him that reminded him of a younger sibling she's always wanted

but she was burned once with prosecutor jung and she's learned her lesson so it was time for the ultimate test

"are you hungry?" she asked, shuffling through her papers one last time before standing up, and putting the stacks back into their file system

han seo was startled for a second, his head buried deep with in the papers, the words almost swimming together with the amount of times he had to look through these contracts

for a second, he thought she was speaking to vincenzo, not himself before he remembered that vincenzo wasn't here this week

"Oh yes, byeonosanim. Would you like to order something or..?" he'd replied as he stood up from his seat, giving his legs a strech. he had forgotten just how tired he was until she asked him, his body feeling the effects of running the company and being at jipuragi

"Yeah, we can. I have the perfect restaurant to get some food from! they're always open late too so it's really convenient" she quipped back, her back facing him as she started putting all the contracts back into place and started pulling out new ones to look over

he followed suit, clearing up the table he was working on and moving to the paralegal’s desk.

even though his work was often hard for him to understand, the legal and formal language needing multiple reads, he felt refreshed each time he came to the plaza

he'd established a daily routine here, going to check on the hee-soo at the snack bar, visiting the pawnshop

he's quite good with his hands. he'd always known he had a knack for taking things apart and fixing them, which especially helped at the pawnshop when college students and older families would come by with broken tablets and gadgets.

even though he was rich, barely anything was spent on him when his dad was alive. every single new outfit or toy always went to han-seok, where as he was stuck with the ragged hand me downs, and old toys.

so when he had gotten his first phone, and broken the keypad, (because han seok threw it across the room when he got angry that he had the same model as his illegitimate brother) he understood it was up to him to figure it out.

he was always good at taking things apart, from all his toy cars to majority of the gadgets and clocks he had in his house.

(there was a day, when he was younger, that he took apart han seok's toy car. the next school day he walked around with gloves, trying to forget about how his cuts hurt as he curled his fingers around a pencil)

taking things apart and then putting them back together the same way was somehow natural to him. but of course, none of that mattered since he couldn't score well enough on his exams to get past the courses he needed to into engineering. plus, he could imagine the sneer on his father's face if he told him what path he was considering...

for most of his life, he'd felt useless compared to his brother. he was never the quick-witted boy at school, failing his english courses and having to go to cram schools and tutoring sessions just to pass by.

he hated going to school everyday, having the teachers shame him for not being as smart as his brother, not being as charismatic or as smooth talking

the exam days were always the worst. looking at the exam sheet, his palms sweaty and his throat tight as he looked at the questions

the doubt was overwhelming. the pressure made him sweat and freeze up even though he knew the problems.

the kids at his schools always seemed to prefer han seok, for some weird reason, when to him he's always been the menace in his life.

han seok was the one to head the company. the one he can't measure up to in front of his father. the one to push the family forward. every bit of praise, every second of attention, it all went to han seok.

han seo was the mistake. the one who always fucked it up. the one who seemed to mess up his brother's plans.

his brother seemed to take it upon himself to remind him that he wasn't meant to be alive. and their father, believing it to be good for han seo, would force him to be tutored by han seok every day.

his brother had a field day with it, finding the most creative ways to abuse and torture him

of course, he's not allowed to say a word about it.

at first, working at jipuragi was anxiety inducing, sweat drenching his shirt each time he brought a document he thought useful to vincenzo, his throat closing up imagining the consequences of fucking up

he knew deep down, that vincenzo wasn't like his brother, he will not hurt him, he will not kill him

but the anxiety and panic are second nature to him

his eyes were glued to his shoes after he handed it over to vincenzo.

vincenzo paused, looking over the document with scrutiny. and his body was automatically bracing for a slap, a punch. at the very least a snide remark or a sneer.

instead he looked up at han seo, nodding, and told him "this is very useful. thank you."

thank you.

thank you. he blinked.

the words echoed in his head as he replayed them back over and over. thank you. in all his years working, no one had said thank you. no words of appreciation were ever dealt for doing his job. for doing something right.

unable to think of a reply, he walked back to his desk and sat down, the shock overwhelming him before he got his mind working again

although it took him double the time to go through the contracts than it did vincenzo or cha-young, he was never berated. there was never a comment about how slow he was, how he wasn't cut out for this, only appriciative glances and words when he did well

and when he didn't, they corrected him, gently. never maliciously, never taunting, always gentle.

and for the first time, he could breathe

the time passed by quickly as they both continued working in silence, han seo finishing up half a stack before the doorbell rang.

"i'll get it! ceo jang, can you set the table up?" cha-young looked toward as she went to grab the food from the delivery man

"yes, byeonosanim" he replied as he went to grab some disposable plates and wooden chopsticks from the cabinet

he set everything out just in time for the lawyer to set the food down. he squinted at the bowls she pulled out, the bright red liquid a stark contrast to the white containers.

"uh, byeonosanim, what is that?"

"hm? oh it's fire noodles. you don't mind spice do you, han seo?" she quirked her eyebrow at him, her voice sickly sweet

and he grinned at her and that was enough of an answer: it was showdown time.

so there he was, sitting across from cha-young, the container of red chili oil central to both of them. both of their suit coats were off, lest they start literally heating up.

oh, and if either of them reach for their water: they're out.

for about 10 seconds, they stared at each other, trying to psych each other out, before his phone timer counted down.

....3, 2, 1 and they were off!

both of them grabbed their chopsticks and spoons and ate two large bites and drank the broth before angling for one spoon full of chili oil into their noodles.

and on they went in this cycle, eating a bite and drinking broth, and pouring chili oil in after each cycle.

3 pours in, and they were still doing good, neither of them showing any signs of redness

6 pours in and his tongue was swollen, her eyes watery, their broth bright red

7 pours in and .... was it just him or was the room getting hotter?

8 and you could see the sweat dripping the lawyer's forehead, the sniffles of the lawyer getting louder and louder. meanwhile he was panting, trying to increase the circulation into his mouth

9 and their arms meet across the table, inches from the chili oil. their eyes lock, their faces bright red and the pain of his tongue unbearable

his eyes are squinted (from his eyes burning or from concentration, we'll never know) and the lawyer is making faces, trying to get him to give in

"it'll" *huff* "be easier" *huff* "if you give in now" *huff*

he laughed back, in response. "and let you win? no way. I'M getting that paper crown"

their eyes both glance at the flimsy, blue paper crown set upon it's carrier, a stack of contracts

she scoffed back (and almost choked) "absolutely not"

they stare each other down as they pour more in and go for another round

they swallow and in that second, cha-young made a fatal mistake

she breathed in the fumes. and coughed. and grabbed the water before she could think about it.

"AHAHA I WIN!!" he yelled out, the chair flying back as he jumped up, the layer of sweat easing up when he grabbed the bottle of water and chugged the whole thing down

the lawyer on the other hand, was slumped in the seat, taking the opportunity to also chug the water.

for around 10 seconds all they did was pant, getting their bodies back into a normal pace before cha-young spoke up

"fine i guess you win, have a great night!" she jabbered out quickly but he knew what she was trying to do

"nuh uh, nope, you're not getting out of this. we agreed! loser has to crown the winner." he grinned at her, his eyes completely closed as his happiness shone through

sighing, the lawyer grabbed the crown from it's holy pedastal and stomped over.

"tun ta da da !!! all hail king han seo, destroyer of spice, the unyielding one" she sang out, her voice deeper as traces of laughter tinted her voice

she placed the crown upon his name and bowed, "may he reign forever" and looked up and shot him a wink "at least, until i win next time"

he struck a superman pose, and puffed his chest out, before both of them crumbled into laughter, cha-young dramatic one ringing above his cackling

"we should do this again please, noona!" he wheezed out, his stomach hurting from laughter.

but it was only his ringing out, as hers cut out sharply.

"noona?"

he paused as his head whipped around to the lawyer, her head tilted as she looked at him

did i say that? i swear i called her byeonosanim... and he replayed the moment.

fuck.

"ah, i'm so sorry hong cha young byeonosanim, i overstepped, i apologize," he bowed in apology to her.

"do you call vincenzo byeonosanim hyung?"

"huh?" he looked up at her in confusion, "uh, yeah i do call him hyung. why?"

"you can call me noona then." she quipped back and for a second, he stared at her. wait what?

she clapped his back, and he choked on his spit, the clap knocking the air out of him "relax. you passed the test han-seo. i've always wanted a younger brother, you know? you can call me noona. as long as you remember your manners, that is," shooting him a wink

he glanced at her, before breaking out into the biggest grin, his gums peaking out.

"okay... cha-young noona!" he giggled, as they took their seats.

she grinned back, settling in.

"ah, you know noona, he said the same thing as you"

"huh?" she squinted back

"vin hyung! he said the same 'you better mind your manners'" han seo laughed as he mocked the korean-italian mafia's voice

"you know, that impression is spot on!" she laughed as he continued the voice, adding in the classic hand gestures, until both of them broke into laughter.

for some reason, both of them were instantly comfortable with one another.

for han seo, laughing with cha-young, trading insults and teasing felt warm, it felt like he'd found a best friend (a best friend who once upon a time he almost maimed by sending thugs after her, but she swore to him that all is forgiven) they had similar humor, similar tastes, similar personalities

for cha-young, he felt like a partner in crime. not like the way vincenzo her partner in life in crime, but in the way that they were both pranksters, both with similar personalities and bright humor

it felt like finding a sibling, a person to commit crimes with, a person to clown together with

"you know, noona, is vin hyung..." he paused mid-sentence, contemplating if he could ask this.

"go on, han seo" cha-young encouraged him, one hand bringing the bottle of water to her mouth

"is he your boyfriend?" he rushed out the words and—

he was sprayed in the face.

cha-young was sputtering as the water dripped off his face, and his eyes shut as he wiped off the excess

"yah, why would you even ask that?" she scoffed out refusing to meet his eyes, but he could see the red tint creeping up on her neck and her cheeks

he shot her a look.

"yeah, yeah okay. he and i are... partners"

"oh." he quipped back, a sinister smile slowly spreading across his face

"no, no, no" she shook her at him, "i do not have a crush on him"

he raised an eyebrow back "who said anything about a crush hm, noona?"

she froze and he knew he'd have next weeks entertainment sorted

"you know maybe i'll take back that younger brother thing if this is how it's like" she taunted, but he didn't feel any hurt. instead her teasing just made his heart soar, her teasing somehow a comfort

"oh, we're just getting started!" he quipped back, as they cleaned up for the night, continuing their conversation as they restored the firm back to order.

"i've noticed you going to the pawnshop a lot recently" she noted, as she grabbed a stack of contracts to put back into the filing cabinet

"ahh, yeah i've been helping them out. they're having a baby you know and it must be hard on both of them to run the shop" he responded as he stacked another set of contracts together, clearing Mr. Nam's desk

"you should do it."

"what?"

"study electronics. or at least continue working for the pawnshop."

he stared at her.

how did she know? for someone so bright and busy he didn't expect her to be so observant to him.

"oh please, like it's hard to notice. i've seen the way you always seem to be happier as you pass by the pawnshop. when i popped in during lunch, i saw you, hunched over the tablet. it's the happiest i've seen you look."

"oh." he grew quiet "it's a little too late, don't you think noona? for me to even consider that? i'd be a little foolish to follow that"

she sighed and turned to him, grabbing the stack from his arms. "let me tell you a story han seo. i'm 34 years old and a lawyer and don't get me wrong, i love doing this. but when i was little my dream was always to sing. but for years, i pushed it back, thinking i could never do it."

she stuffed the papers to the back corner, somehow managing to stuff it in and turned back to him.

"so, noona? did you do it?"

"patience. a couple weeks after my final exam for law school, i said why the hell not. and now i've been taking lessons one and off for years!"

"you should give a demo!! sing for us"

"oh, please i couldn't possibly do it" she tucked her hair back, looking bashful.

"ple-" he barely got the words out.

"oh of course, if you insist!" she grabbed the empty water bottle and climbed on her stool, the makeshift stage for the night

"noona! noona!!" han seo cheered her on as she stood up. she cleared her throat, moving her head to the side and warming up

and she opened her mouth.

and sang.

if you could call that singing.

what came out was more of a series of tone-deaf screeches, making him wince but mask his face with a smile, trying to solider through the pain.

he clapped as SOON as she finished the last note, his ears grateful for the break. she took a flourished bow as she jumped off the stool

"how was it?"

"noona, that was amazing!" he lied, trying his best to stop the ringing in his ears.

she smacked him with her water bottle "yah! you liar! i'm god awful" she made one of her classic faces.

"you know??? and you made me endure that???" he touched his ears. he expected to see blood but luckily the damage wasn't too bad

"YAH!" she smacked him again. "you brat, the point isn't that i'm good or not."

"then what is?" his eyebrows furrowed as he looked in confusion.

if you're not good at it then what really is the point? why should i keep trying?

"the point is that i'm happy. it doesn't matter how good you are at something for you to consider it an interest, as long as it makes you happy."

he paused. no one had ever said that before. to do what makes him happy. not what made his father or his brother happy. everyone's advice all his life was to stick to what you're good at and that there isn't a point in trying if you aren't good from the beginning.

"look i'm terrible at singing. but i know that if i had never pursued it, i would have grown old and regretted it. so what if i am bad! at least i got to do it while i'm alive! give electronics a shot, han seo."

han seo bit his lip slightly. and he nodded.

he was going to give it a shot.

"good! now lets get this cleaned up and go home!" she sashayed off to her desk, grabbing the last of her stuff before they left the firm.

the next week, when vincenzo was back from italy, he had expected to find the firm just like he left it. what he didn't expect was his girlfriend wife partner and brother han seo, one sprawled on the couch and the other on the floor, piles of blankets and what looked like a mic and SEVERAL bottles of sujo scattered across the table.

they were both in matching pajama sets, and snoring very loudly. he shuffled over to his desk where a note that looked like it was written in crayon was left

and it said

"dear vin hyung: noona and i were having a sleepover last night. i made sure she was extra safe and did not do anything overly amitious (like call you in the middle of the night to ask you if you had to leave) if you are seeing the mess that we probably made, please excuse it. i will clean it up as soon as i can. grazie!

p.s. you should ask noona out sometime, i have it in good word that she might be interested ;)

to be continued...

a/n: let this be a fic reminding you that if you are passionate about something, pursue it! our world conditions us to believe that you have to be good at something in order to be able to do it but that's absolute bs. please give your younger and future selves a chance by taking up something you've always wanted to do <3

#mine #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #chayenzo #hong cha young #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo #jeon yeo been #vincenzo x cha young #han seo supramacy #jang han seo #canon divergence #kwak dong yeon #jang han seok #ok taecyeon

122 notes · View notes

unofficialadamtaurus · 2 years

Note

To annoyingly continue the ask (you just give really fantastic responses, I’m sorry) where would you like to see Blake Belladonna’s character go post-Volume 8 and now that Faunus racism got scrapped? Or even, where would you like the direction of the show to go post-season 8? What do you want to see from V9 and the mysterious island?

Adam’s come back is the only right answer for that one lol.

Buttering me up is not going to hide the fact that you're continuing the ask lol. Not that I mind; it's a nice thought exercise.

Go forth with the knowledge that I will be making no effort to clearly distinguish between what I think is likely and what is purely my own self-indulgence.

Re: Blake’s character post-V8

I mean, not to go knocking on the devil’s door, but how much worse could she get? The last two volumes were an impressively thorough butchering of her character, not just because of how she didn’t resemble herself, but because of how her characterization actively contradicted her previous incarnation(s). There’s really nowhere to go but up.

First and foremost, she needs a stake in the plot. Whether that’s defending her team or rescuing Sun in Vacuo or something else, I don’t particularly care. The bar is on the floor, just give her something. Beyond that? Confirmed relationship with Yang or a better balance of intimate moments with established priorities and interactions with other characters. Stop making the Bees feel like they only exist to the exclusion of other interpersonal relationships.

On a larger scale, I want her character to pick between having a stake in her father’s White Fang or being the hero she professed wanting to be back in the early volumes. I made a point of emphasizing the burden of being a Belladonna in Hollow People because it felt like a natural progression of her arc; starting as a solo agent trying to make amends, then rejoining the movement to take it back, then combining the two to become a leader by example.

Re: the show Post-V8

I’m begging for a smaller cast so we can get back to basics. I want team RWBY bonding. I want some non-world-ending stakes in trying to get Neo to see reason and some actual consequences (meaning, our characters change as people as a result of their own actions) for what’s happened. I want Jaune to hit his head on a rock and spend the entire island arc passed out on some grass somewhere.

I fully expect to go straight from the island to Vacuo. Maybe there we can get a competently executed arc about handling (or failing to handle) a refugee crisis in a decentralized kingdom...or maybe they’ll show up to see that Winter and Co. have managed to triage the worst of it off screen. Given the trajectory of the plot, Salem is probably going to attack fairly quickly after Tyrian and Mercury cause problems. There will be some poorly executed angst between Emerald and Mercury, some even more poorly executed angst between Emerald and Cinder, and I don’t even want to think about this anymore because I’m getting too pessimistic.

In an ideal world, I’d love to see a real on-the-brink-of-defeat narrative. Scrambling for every bullet, fighting tooth and nail for even the smallest of victories, always two steps from disaster, and emphasizing the incremental salvation found in saving one person at a time.

Re: what I want to see in V9 / on the island

This.

There’s no way the show is going to do anything like this, but it would be a fun way to bring back old villains like Torchwick, Adam, and...uh. Hm. H-Hazel? Watts?

This is incongruously lighthearted but now I’m picturing Ironwood on this island stalking all of the villains like a righteously vengeful terminator. He died, found peace, and decided to make his new clearheadedness everyone’s problem. He’s not stuck on the island with them; they’re stuck on the island with him.

#anon #unofficial adam answers #rwde #blake belladonna #headcanons #i read your ask as 'i'm sorry you give good responses' at first and i was like damn. that's bold of you to say #'what should the show do post-V8'?#the question equivalent of giving someone a totaled car and asking them where they're gonna drive it #i said there's nowhere to go but up but let's be real: CRWBY is excellent at finding a way to dig through rock bottom #there's a part of me #just a part #that kinda wants them to make the whole show and every character in it FUBAR #and explicitly acknowledge it in the commentary or interviews #just not caring at all about the implications #can you imagine the chaos that would ensue?#it would be a bloodbath #free entertainment for *weeks*

10 notes · View notes

pokemoncreepypasta · 3 years

Text

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.”

I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!”

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one.

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!”

Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!”

… And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!”

After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

#Pokemon Creepypasta #Pokepasta #Mew #HM Slave

44 notes · View notes

lillian-nator · 4 years

Note

You want more shit? I can go all day (except for school and sleep, hm) but one day techno realises just how much trouble Tommy is getting into by hanging out with Dream and challenges him to a fight, that's how the dream and Techno duel comes about, techno wins and Dream is just like "Well, what did you want me to do?" and Techno goes "stop influencing boys younger than you or ill break your kneecaps next" - 💙

Oh shit - oh shit - oh shit

Man, Blue, you are really the mvp.

I feel as though we can understand eachother - I also need to sleep and have school in the morning lol.

Anyways, I would love to continue throwing ideas back and forth with you :)

Here it is [the scene]:

[So, for this scenario to happen, I imagine that Techno has to not know of the “Tommy being high off his ass” incident at first.

So, I picture for either Techno to sleep through Tommy’s lecture - or the more likely case (and the one I am going to write here) Tommy didn’t leave his room for the entire day after he got caught.]

When Tommy still hadn’t come out of his room at noon, Wilbur and Phil thought that Tommy was simply trying to evade punishment, but when they went to go check on him, he was still asleep. Like not even pretending to be asleep, like he was clearly out of it - and Wilbur, and Phil weren’t monsters, they would let him sleep as long as he needed.

They assumed that he would need a lot after only getting to bed at 4am, high as fuck, as well.

Tommy ended up sleeping until 6pm that Saturday (the weed incident happened on a Friday night). He only got up to puke in the bathroom and lay back down in his bed.

Techno, who had been gone for most of the day, came back and assumed Tommy was coming down with something. He went into his room, closed the door and din’t come out. Look - he loved his brother, he really did, but midterms were coming up, and he didn’t want to get sick. Besides, Wilbur being the sap he was, would totally be taking care of Tommy all day, if he was sick. He loved Wilbur really, but he could never had what him and Tommy had, Wilbur being the closest with the youngest, was over-protective at times, and a tad bit jealous of Dream, but he was a great brother really, and he was totally Tommy’s favorite, no doubt about that. He means, the two were stuck to the hip when Tommy was younger, and even now, sometimes it was like they were the same person.

So, Wilbur had been in fact taking care of Tommy. Sure, he was pissed out of his mind that his fucking 15-year-old brother came back home high as a kite, but he still cared about Tommy. Probably too much for either of their goods.

As soon as Wilbur heard Tommy get out of bed, he had been prepared to go upstairs, but when he heard Tommy vomit - he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he should help the boy or not. He knows that Tommy must have a killer headache, and probably stomachache from smoking weed on an empty stomach. So, he wasn’t sure whether or not he should let Tommy live the consequences of his actions - or if he should help ease his little brother’s pain.

Look, we’ve already discussed that Wilbur cared about Tommy too much for their own goods. SO, of course Wilbur fucking helped him.

When Wilbur got up to Tommy’s room, man was he not expecting to see Tommy in as much of a mess he was. He was still in his clothes from the night before, SapNap’s jacket hanging loosely around his arms, the multitude of blankets pulled up to his chin. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, and he looked green.

Taking a better look at him, Wilbur knew that it wasn’t the weed that made Tommy throw up - the kid had actually gotten sick from being outside without a jacket.

Wilbur was ready to throw hands with a member of the Dteam.

Anyways, the fact that Tommy was sick delayed the conversation a few days, and when it did happen - that Tuesday at 2 P.M, right after Tommy got home from school - Techno was still at the School studying for midterms.

Techno still didn’t know what was going on - but he noticed the subtle differences.

Tommy had to keep his door open when he had friends over, even with Purpled and Tubbo, practically two members of their family. Wilbur locked Tommy’s window, and when it was hot outside, Tommy had to ask Wilbur to open it. The air was tense. Techno felt like he was always walking on eggshells, and he felt as though he could physically see Tommy walk on eggshells. Tommy had started sitting with Wilbur and his friends at lunch. Tubbo obviously stayed with Tommy - really, Techno could see how glad the small boy was to spend time with his brother - but Purpled switched between Dream’s table, and Wilbur’s table almost everyday.

Tommy having to keep his door open only lasted a week and a half; Tommy was too loud, and the only kids coming over were Purpled and Tubbo (Phil completed trusted them). The window stayed shut though, and Tommy was not allowed to sit with Dream for the foreseeable future.

It was 3 weeks into Tommy’s new-found punishment when Techno had to ask Phil what was going on.

Techno sighed, “Phil, seriously, what has been up with Tommy lately. Did I miss something?”

Oh.” He had a look of confusion on his face. “Did Wilbur not tell you?”

“Did Wilbur not tell me what?” Techno scoffed, Phil could have not been more vague.

“Well, Wilbur caught Tommy come home high a couple weeks ago.” Phil threaded his hand through his short hair, he wasn't sure how Techno was gonna react.

Techno didn’t know how to react. His brother? Tommy? High? “Wait - but he was grounded a couple weeks ago?”

“I caught him sneaking back in. If Wilbur hadn’t woken up, I would’ve never known that he was high. He was good at hiding it.”

“Uh...” If Techno knew one thing, it’s that you aren’t good at hiding the fact that you are tripping balls the first time you get high. “Do you think that he had done it before?”

“I’m not sure. He said that he hadn’t. Wilbur believed him, but Wilbur would beleive anything that boy tells him. I have to trust him on it though.”

Techno mumbled, “That fucker.” And walked out.

Techno wasn’t thrilled bu the fact that his 15-year-old brother had been smoking weed.

Of course he wasn’t, it was his baby brother. Tommy was never supposed to do any of that crap. But, if Techno knew Wilbur and Phil well enough, he knew that he was getting enough punishment as it is. So he laid off him, even if Techno knew that Tommy had smoked at least one other time, he assumed he wouldn’t do it again - that part was right, however what Techno did not anticipate was to catch Tommy sneaking out again, or rather in.

It was late at night, the night before Techno’s last midterm. He wasn’t always the best at Physics. So he just decided to go over a few more equations.

Sure, it was almost 4 am, but Techno never slept anyways.

So, his head is in his hands just looking down at his Physics test book when he hears the clicks of the door being unlocked, and the kitchen being directly across the the house from the door - Techno had a crystal clear view of his brother attempting to sneak back in, from where he was at the counter.

“Hey.” Tommy stops in his tracks.

Tommy walks over to Techno, sits directly across from him at the counter, putting his keys on the table. Tommy sighs loudly.

“I will tell you anything. Please just don’t tell Wilbur and Phil.”

Techno, who actually really just wanted to know what was up with his brother, decided that he would take the deal. “Sure. You have to answer my questions though.”

Tommy let out an audible sigh. “Okay, deal. What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the obvious.” He clapped his hands together. “Are you high?”

“No.” straightforward. Techno continued, “Are you drunk - did you drink?” “No.” Techno squinted his eyes, “Are you lying?”

“Do you need a fucking sobriety test? I’m not under the fucking influence.” Tommy gritted his teeth.

“Hey.” He was used to Tommy’s attitude, so he’s not sure why the hostility caught him off guard. “I’m doing you a fucking favor - I don’t need the attitude.” He smacked the blonde on the back of the head. In the process, he took a beanie off of Tommy’s head. Upon closer inspection, Techno realized that the beanie was not Wilbur’s. It was Quackity’s.

Techno started again, “Who were you out with?”

“The gang.” Tommy deadpanned.

“Who the fuck is the gang?” He was starting to get really pissed off at Tommy’s vague answers.

“I don’t know!” Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Last night it was Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, and -”

Techno sighed, “Dream.”

“Don’t cut me off. I’m giving you the fucking answers.”

“Don’t forget you’re the one in trouble here.” Techno closed his Physics book. This was gonna be a long night. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Dream asked if I wanted to meet them at the bridge, and I did. So, I went.”

“Even though you knew that you are not allowed?” Techno asked skeptically.

“That’s kind of the fucking point of sneaking out.” Tommy turned to go into his room. Techno grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Just tell me one thing, before you storm up into your room.” Tummy hummed in agreement. “How many times have you smoked weed?”

Tommy groaned; “Really? You’re still on this?”

“Just answer the damn question Tommy.” Techno growled back.

Tommy sighed, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air - also successfully freeing himself from Techno's grip. “I don’t know! 3 or 4 times - I mean it when I say, I won’t do it again.”

“I beleive you.” And he really did, although his little brother may have been sneaking around behind his back, he knew him. And Techno knew that Tommy sounded sincere. “But, you also lied about never doing it before. You also smoked weed. Here we are.”

“Whatever.” Tommy mumbled, pushing past Technoblade and stormed up to his room. What he didn’t realize is that he left his phone on the table.

Tommy’s phone buzzed - loud enough for Techno to hear it through his thoughts.

Techno shyly picked it up - look, he really didn’t want to invade Tommy’s privacy. He knew that no matter what Tommy did, he had a right to privacy away from his brothers, but, Techno couldn’t help but be curious to which of the assholes of the month was texting his brother.

It’s a text from Dream.

Dream: You dropped your student I.D. You wanna pick it up tmr night? Karl and SapNap found an abandoned mall a town over. They wanna check it out. You in - Purpled and Punz already said they were game?

Techno was about to beat the shit out of that green fucking bastard.

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

The next morning, nobody knew why Techno was waling down the hall with such determination.

But nobody stood in his fucking way.

As soon as he got to Dream’s locker, he saw the bastard. Standing there talking to SapNap like nothing happened last night.

Techno slammed Dream’s locker door shut, earning a wince from the tall blonde.

“What the hell dude?” Dream snarled, annoyed, and fucking too tired to deal with anyone’s shit.

“’What the hell dude?’“ Techno mocked. “Why the fuck are you helping my little brother sneak out?”

“Because he asked me too! It’s not my fault he wanted to hang out, and I’m not taking the blame for something he did.” Dream was tired of getting involved with Tommy’s brothers. He loved the kid really, but his brothers were a lot to handle.

“Tubbo, too! We both know he’s grounded.” Techno mused, hands raised to the ceiling.

Dream, swore he was never gonna get a break from this guy. "Tubbo asked too! I'm not gonna take responsibilities for their actions!"

"Then stop fucking inviting them." Techno growled.

"Look. If they want to sneak out - I'm not, not, gonna tell them when we are hanging out."

"Just stop fucking inviting them - then none of this would ever be your problem. You got it? Stop fucking around with my brothers." Techno stepped closer, pointing a finger in Dream's chest.

Dream looked at the pink-haired boy with a knowing look. He said 'brothers' - okay. So, Techno was talking about all 3 of the teens.

He dropped his head, he really didn't want to get into a fight right now, "Look, I'm sorry okay? I can promise you I won't give any of them alcohol. I can promise I won't let Tommy take a hit of Quack's joint. But, I can't promise I won't stop hanging out with them."

Techno laughed, "You don't understand do you? The point is that you let him do it in the first place."

"Do you really want to do this, right now?" At this point students had gathered around the pair. "You want to fucking fight?"

"If that will make you shut up and leave my fucking life; yeah."

Dream threw the first punch.

There isn't much to say about the fight. Techno won - but barely. Both came out with bloody noses, split knuckles, bruised ribs, bleeding lips, and tired arms.

Techno broke Dream's nose.

It was a good fight.

Most of the student body watched, 'oohing' everytime a punch was thrown. At some point, Tommy had seen the fight go down, and Karl had to hold the blonde back, from breaking up the fight himself.

"Alright," Dream admitted on the floor, tired beyond relief. "What do you want?"

Techno seethed, "I want you to stay the fuck away from my brothers." and walked away.

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

Later, after school, when Tommy walked in on Calvin helping Techno clean himself up in the bathroom, Tommy brushed past Techno, bumping into his shoulder.

"Hey -" Techno grunted in pain.

"Good fucking luck explaining this to Phil. I'm going to Tubbo's. I won't see you later." Tommy growled, and continued walking.

#tommyinnit #wilbursoot #philza #technoblade #dream #dreamwastaken #quackity #karl jacobs #tubbo #purpled #punz #georgenotfound #sapnap #2270 words for you #hahah #k #Of Younger Brothers and Longer Nights #ybln au

355 notes · View notes

fragmentedink-archived · 3 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Six

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV, LV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Biela was in one of the cities of Assyra, helping provide some form of comfort and support to the many grieving families left without their young. The cities of her kingdom were slowly building their way back to their former glory thanks to the war ending, but there was still much, much work to be done.

And she would not rest until it was.

She was still half tempted to take her frustrations out on that angel and his foolish cousin who decided to defy nature in her lands, leaving her people to pay the consequences. But she held back, if only so they could live with what they had done.

Dacia and Caius both were with her to provide as much light and warmth in this time, something she had always lacked the ability to provide. Dacia stood by her side while combing the streets for a period of respite.

“I do hope this haunts them,” Biela said, darkly, letting Dacia link their arms together.

“I am sure it will,” Dacia replied. “Levant and Amara both.”

“Hmph.”

They let silence fall for a bit longer when she felt a tugging at her skirt. She nearly thought it was some mangy animal, but stopped moving when she realized it was a child that was clinging to her skirts, clearly trying to keep herself from tumbling to the ground.

“Who’s child is this?” Biela demanded, looking around.

Dacia was already moving to scooping her up when Biela locked eyes on a violet eyed child that had a hand half reaching for the toddler in Dacia’s arms. She nearly went after them had it not been for their bolting like a rabbit, likely to get as far away from Biela as physically possible.

Of course it ran. Biela never had much luck with children capable of forming their own opinions. They more often than not were best left silent. But for some reason, this particular toddler decided to demand her attention.

Dacia seemed to be looking the child over, checking for cuts or bruises, though she couldn’t find any. She gave Biela a look that had Biela frowning at her. “What.”

“Well, clearly she had a home.”

“Oh really?” Biela asked. “From the looks of it I’d say she was missing a few requirements for that, considering her very dirty skin on top of her very dirty clothes.”

“Well all the more reason to take her with us,” Dacia replied. “Children are dying. We cannot let another fall through the cracks.”

“I suppose,” Biela said, eyeing the child staring right back at her. She squinted.

When the child removed her hand from her mouth, as soaked with slobber as it was, she still reached out for Biela. Biela frowned in distaste. She had been soaked in blood once, but she still was not a fan of fluids from infants. “I will not take you,” Biela retorted to the baby. “But fine, we will bring her with us.”

Biela thought back to the last thing Raziel had said to her the day before. That ‘Congratulations’ stuck out in Biela’s mind and she had half a thought to go wring that old bird’s neck.

She hated seers.

---

Lev was closing the door to Eden's nursery oh so carefully when Ash found him. And by found him, Lev meant Ash smacked the side of his leg with his cane. Lev stifled a yelp, so he didn’t wake Eden, and glared at Ash. It was safe to do so because Ash couldn’t see him.

“Ow,” Lev mumbled, sidestepping another sweep of the cane. “I- can I help you?” He paused, and quickly corrected himself. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm. Pick a new tone,” Ash said, flippantly. “I want you to make yourself useful and take me to Cameron’s library.”

Lev sighed softly, and started walking. “It’s this way,” he said, just to get Ash started. “Though I don’t think he’s got any books in braille.”

“Well lucky for me I’m not going to be the one doing the reading,” Ash replied, following after him.

“Am I-” Lev bit off his questions, and instead said, “It’s up these stairs, and then we’re gonna take a left.”

Ash slowly followed after him, taking one step at a time, clearly not quite used to climbing the stairs without the morsels of eyesight he once had.

Lev quietly narrated the path he took to one of the tables he liked to frequent during the few times he’d had the time to sequester himself away in the library. It was near the very meager collection of fiction Cameron had; most everything else in here seemed to be non-fiction of all sorts.

“I’m sure there’s a system,” Ash said, side stepping the things in his way. “Knowing Cameron it’s bound to be just as elaborate as his many personalities.” At Lev’s confusion Ash sighed. “A catalogue. Something to classify the books to keep them separate by title or genre or subject or something.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah. There is. Do- do you need me to find you a book?”

“I want you to find every book in Cameron’s library about the gods,” Ash said, leaning against one of the shelves. “You’re going to actually learn something about well, something aside from whatever romance novel you are currently gurgitating.”

“Gurgitating,” Lev mumbled to himself, trying not to sound annoyed. He puffed out a breath, and then, “I’ll see if I can find a few. There’s a table next to you if you want to sit.” Though Ash might prefer to stand, so he could complain about that too.

He could feel Ash’s glare against his back. “I’m coming with you, genius,” Ash said. “How about you knock the attitude off. I can feel your passive aggressive puffiness from here.”

Lev considered that, and then decided honesty was the best policy. “I’m just a little cranky,” he said, and then added, “And so are you. I’m sorry if I’ve been snapping at you, though. Shouldn’t take crankiness out on someone else. Not their fault.”

“Duly noted,” Ash said. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to someone who cares. Now take me to the books.”

Lev led the way, gathering every book Ash told him to, up until his arms started to get tired, and then he very firmly insisted they go back to the table. “I can’t carry any more,” he said, “And I certainly can’t read all of these in one sitting. The rest aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s fine,” Ash said, taking a few books from him to tuck under his arm. “You won’t be able to retain all of what you need to know if you do that.”

Lev sighed, loud enough for Ash to definitely hear this time, but just settled down at his table, spreading the books out. Ash took the chair across from Lev and had him pull out the first book.

“Do you want me to read out loud?” Lev asked after a moment of staring at the introduction.

“Tell me what you know about the gods,” Ash said. “The angels should have given you a rudimentary understanding of each god in school, but angelic teachings tend… to embellish a little and make Asmi seem more important than the others. Which is not to say they’re not important,” Ash added, hastily. “As they are the god to the angels, but each is important and I want to figure out how much work you’re going to need to understand.”

Lev paused, trying to dig up memories well over a century old. “I knew of Asmi,” Lev confirmed. “And they said that demons split their worship between... Five? Five gods? I think? I know demonic magic is tied to specific gods. I think. Or- there’s a choosing?”

“There is Kaveh, the oldest- twin to Asmi, who is the one who created both the other gods and the demons. Demons were pulled from the earth as angels were the stars. Kaveh’s magic is one of the most powerful, bestowed as they are the oldest god in the pantheon,” Ash said. “They rule magic such as telepathy and forms of telekinesis and other mental based magics.”

Ash took a breath. “Asmi, as Kaveh’s twin, was born at the same time. It was just them alone in the universe, right? Asmi created the angels so of course they would become the patron to all angels. As they are tied to the natural balance, all our abilities come from nature.”

“Third,” Ash said, “Is Mizra. Mizra is the seer. Knows all that is, was and all that could be. They’re known for being relatively… prickly, I guess. Just like Kaveh, but a different flavor. Next is Ruya. Ruya is the god of echos and reigns over the illusion workers. And lastly is Basim who rules over empathy based magics. Anything having to do with the emotional spectrum. Each god has access to the rawest magic, but only demons can access the designated power that each god rules over.” He paused, took another breath and leaned back. “Does any of that make sense?”

Lev blinked several times. “I...” he trailed off. “That was a lot. But.. I think so?” Even though Ash couldn’t see, Lev ticked them off on his fingers, “Kaveh is the oldest, and rules mental magics. Asmi is balance, Mizra is the Sight, Ruya is echoes and illusions. And- Um. Bas- Basim is empaths?”

“Yes,” Ash said, satisfied. “They’re each patron to a particular person they find interesting, so a person can have two gods bugging them, but only hold power for one, if that makes sense? They might just… be a little more enhanced. Kaveh: the cunning and resourceful; Asmi: the natural order and witches; Mizra: survivors; Ruya: the wild and unchained, and Basim: patron to the merciful.”

“I... I think so?” Lev said hesitantly. “Does everyone have a god who is their patron? Or only specific people?”

Ash rose a shoulder. “I think it’s just certain people that the gods have taken a liking to. I haven’t read anything about every single demon having a patron on top of their god.”

Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said out loud after a moment. “I think that makes sense.” He tapped his thumb on the book, and then asked thoughtfully, “Do gods favor bloodlines? I never really paid much attention to if demons’ magic was genetic or not...”

“I do think sometimes it’s through bloodlines, unless a god has deliberately chosen the child. Their magic usually comes in around five to seven years old; just like an angel’s,” Ash said. “The gods wait to see what the child will grow into and go from there.”

“That makes sense,” Lev mumbled, more to himself than anything, and then said, “So there’s no real way to know what kind of magic Eden will have, then?”

“Not until she’s close to five, no.”

Lev gave a small hum. “Does Asmi ever choose demons?” He asked, just out of sheer curiosity.

“If they find a liking to a person, sure,” Ash said. “They’ll most likely bless that bloodline. Isn’t Sorin a demon with fire magic anyways? Also, Asmi likely is responsible for the few powerful bloodlines of demonic healers. They’re very rare, just like elemental demonic users.”

Lev gave a few blinks. “I didn’t-” He thought again. “Right. Fax’s cousin.” After another awkward pause, he added, “I forgot. Fax had fire magic too. He just so rarely used it. Mostly to light his cigarettes or the fireplace.”

Ash looked vaguely disapproving with the mention of cigarettes, but said nothing about it. “Sazra’s bloodline is most likely one blessed by Asmi. She’s one of the very few demonic healers I have met. And she’s a very strong one at that. Probably why she was in this house for so long. Demons were never very kind to their healers- always enslaved them.”

Oh. Lev looked down. “I’m guessing she wouldn’t want my pity,” he said slowly.

“Probably not,” Ash said. “But back to what I was saying. Power and magic are tied to the gods and the gods are tied to us. Sometimes even the gods walk among the people, though Asmi is somewhat trapped in their realm whereas the other gods are not.” Ash grimaced. “Instead they get to use me as their mouthpiece.”

“They’re trapped?” Lev asked, his concern getting dragged away from Sazra. “That sounds awful.”

“Less trapped and more they don’t have a physical form,” Ash admitted. “If they want company from us mere mortals they are very capable of yanking us to them.”

“Oh,” Lev said, considering that. “Do they do that often?”

“I’m not sure with other people besides me,” Ash said, “but they sure do like my company. Maybe a little too much.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said honestly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s fine,” Ash said. “I’ll manage.”

Lev frowned, but Ash couldn’t see. He tapped the book with his thumb. “Do the gods talk directly to their followers often? Like when... when Asmi spoke to me, before I came back? Or did they only do so because I was... partly dead.”

“I think… they were curious and infuriated. Not many people show up on the gods' radar. When they do, they take notice.”

Lev nodded. “So they don’t visit people often. And that’s true for all the gods?”

Ash lifted a shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, yeah. Maybe us mere mortals aren’t all that interesting in the grand scheme of things, though I’m sure they do find our little lives absolutely hilarious sometimes.”

“Ah,” Lev said, rubbing his face. “I suppose bastardizing nature would put me on their radar,” he sighed.

“And now we don’t have magic,” Ash said, sardonically. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Asmi soon.”

---

Cameron was seated in the chair while Darius napped. He had been working on the backed up paperwork from the last several days. He had a solid chunk of paperwork from both the club and further Obsidian Court workings when there was a feather light knock on the door.

He bit back his irritable sigh and looked up to see one of the sentries standing stiffly in the doorway. Cameron flicked Darius a look, to make sure he was still sleeping before fixing his attention on the sentry. “What do you want?”

“There’s an angel here,” they said.

“I am aware there are several angels here,” Cameron said, crossly. “Be more specific.”

“Raziel,” he rushed out. “Um, she said her name was Raziel.”

Oh brilliant. “And what does that overcooked chicken want?” Cameron said, flatly. “Lev is unable to speak with his family for the next several decades.”

“She’s here for you, sir.”

“You can tell Raziel to fly her carcass back to her roost,” Cameron said, turning his focus back to his work, dismissing the sentry to do his bidding.

Cameron had but a few moments of peace before the sentry returned, looking rather ashened. “I’m afraid she was rather insistent, sir.”

Cameron sighed sharply out of his nose and got to his feet. The sentry stiffened slightly as Cameron walked past him, ordering him to not take his eyes off Darius while Cameron dealt with the ancient angel.

“And to what do I owe this displeasure,” Cameron said, eyeing Raziel, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Mizra sent me,” Raziel said, irritatingly calm as always. “So unfortunately, I am not able to leave until I’ve passed their message along.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I haven’t been to a temple in well over five hundred years.” In fact, he had never stepped foot inside one to begin with. “Why would they bother themselves with my presence now?”

“Both kingdoms are healing,” Raziel said. “And they’re tired of waiting for you to come to them. I’m sure if I hadn’t reached out to them for my own reasons they would have found another way to reach out to you and demand you listen.”

Cameron fixed his jaw. “We’ll speak in my office,” he said, walking past her.

Raziel followed him, staying a good three paces behind him until they reached the office. She even settled in the chair without prompting, hooking one knee over the other.

Cameron took his place behind his desk and leaned back. He eyed her for a few seconds, trying to figure the best approach to handle both Mizra and Raziel. “I have not participated in the Rite,” Cameron said, evenly. “I am not able to, so I do not have any connections with Mizra.”

Every demon born had their god and had their own coming of age where they cemented their connection to their god. Every demon, legitimate or not, was supposed to form the connections with their god in order to fully claim their abilities. Cameron never had, his mother had forbade it, so his magic was barely a whisper of anything- calling it a magic felt like too grand of a word. He had never spoken to a priestess, of any god. Cameron had no Rite to claim.

Raziel didn’t even blink. “Then complete it. Before Mizra starts meddling more personally.”

“I do not have the time,” Cameron said. “And I am now much too old. Have been for well over five hundred years.”

“Make time. Your god demands it.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Your household doesn’t need a second god looking at it with ire. Nothing I remember of the Rite says you can’t complete it later in life.” Her silver eyes tracked his every minute move. “I’m sure you’re not the only one with subpar parents.”

“I suggest you do not speak ill of my parents,” Cameron said, flippantly. “They’re my problem and they’re also dead. No need for you to make judgements that do not pertain to you. Besides, the Rite is a demonic passage. Perhaps you should keep to your own lane in that matter. I will make time, but it will have to wait.” Cameron rubbed his temples, alleviating the growing pressure. “As I said, I am busy.”

“I did not mean offense,” Raziel said mildly. “I spoke only of what Mizra told me. And on top of what they’ve said of your parents, ill or otherwise, they have insisted you speak to them.”

“What part of ‘I am busy’ seems to get lost in your decrepit mind?” Cameron snapped.

It was then that Cameron felt himself be… pulled somewhere; he and Raziel both. Cameron went very still when a very pale… being was standing in front of him. Mizra, he presumed, with their pale skin and white hair, almost a similar likeness to himself. They looked less than pleased to drag him here into their realm. “When I request you,” they said, coolly. “I do not mean to be put off for something you consider more important. There is nothing more important than I, do you understand me?”

“My apologies,” Cameron said. “I did not mean any disrespect.”

Mizra’s eyes narrowed. “There is not an ounce of respect in your frail little body, Cameron Luain.”

“Mizra,” Raziel said. “It would make pulling us here rather pointless if you lose your temper now.” And then she smiled at the god.

Mizra fixed their mouth into a thin line. “Your mother,” they said, turning back to face Cameron, “defied my wishes when she decided to keep you from me in attempt to keep you powerless.” Cold washed down Cameron’s skin. “She is now rotting in the ground and no longer an obstacle, therefore, I am very kindly requesting you have the Rite performed.”

Cameron flicked Raziel a glance before tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I suppose I will make the time,” he bit out, bowing his head slightly.

He could feel their very smug faint smile directed his way. “Very good,” they said. “It seems when I told Raziel to fix you, I had not accounted for how foolishly bullheaded you male creatures are.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Raziel interjected. “I apologize I was not able to successfully pass along your message on my own.”

Mizra frowned at her. “Yes, I do suppose you did fail in your one task, Raziel. I had expected far better from someone I had blessed.”

“I suppose I’m out of practice,” Raziel replied. “I’ll do better next time.” If Cameron didn’t know better he’d say Raziel’s silver eyes, so eerily similar to Mizra’s, crinkled with affection at the god.

“As you should,” Mizra said, primly. “Failure is unacceptable and I would so hate to find someone else to keep me company. Most of you mortals are rather boring.”

Cameron was rapidly growing all the more irritable with these too ancient beings and found the phantom pain in his head to be growing steadily behind his eye.

Mizra cut their focus to Cameron. “And while I have you here,” they said, “I expect you to start eating something. You’re too thin and disgusting. You need to eat more.”

Cameron stared blankly at the god. “You want me to eat more?” he echoed.

Why would a god care about his eating habits?

“Oh please,” Mizra huffed, “I do detest repeating myself.”

“I could always check in on him,” Raziel offered.

Cameron cut her a withering glare. The last thing he needed was Raziel to babysit him. “Last I checked,” Cameron said, “you were barred from Lev’s presence.”

Mizra waved a dismissive hand. “You make it sound like I care what your little king wants,” Mizra said. “Raziel will do my bidding and hold your hand if need be.”

Cameron felt rage boil under his skin, but promptly kept his mouth shut.

“I highly doubt I’ll need to go that far,” Raziel said, amused.

“Was there anything else you required of me,” Cameron bit out.

“Oh very well, very well,” Mizra said, “If you’re going to act like a child I will send you back. Raziel, I will speak to you soon.”

With that, Cameron felt himself be dropped into his body.

Raziel looked annoyingly unruffled. “So I’ll see you next week?” She said lightly.

Cameron got to his feet and leaned over his desk. “Get the hell out of my house right now,” he snapped. “If you are not off of my property in the next five minutes I will not be so pleasant. Get out now.”

Raziel lifted a single brow, but stood gracefully. “I’ll let you know before I come over next time,” she said on her way out. “Do not make Mizra wait much longer. They have much less patience than I.”

Cameron let the door shut behind her before he nearly collapsed in his chair. He grabbed his head, tight, hoping to alleviate the pressure building, but it did very little.

---

Nik woke from his nap, still angry and irritable. The last twenty-four hours had not done much for his temper so he had taken a nap. And that did not help either. He wandered the house and found a rather beautiful man in the bedroom, sitting up in the bed. “Well you must be Darius,” Nik said, crossly.

The man gave him a rather mild smile and nodded.

Nik’s eyes narrowed. “So are you crippled and can’t talk or are you being annoying on purpose.” When Darius didn’t say anything, because of course he didn’t, Nik said, “Right, whatever. So I guess you’re Cameron’s boyfriend or something? And you were dead, so why didn’t you stay dead? Nevermind, that’s stupid. I guess if you were going to defy nature, you might as well do it for Cameron.”

Darius cocked his head and reached for a pad of paper only to scribble a ‘It’s nice to meet you, Nik.’

“Oh please,” Nik said, “I’m being a dickhead to you. You don’t need to lie to me.”

‘I’m not lying,’ Darius wrote. ‘I’m rather used to crass language when people are upset.”

“I’m being crass?” Nik demanded. “I think you being alive is rather inconvenient for me since everyone in this damned house knows who the hell you are besides me.”

‘I apologize for Cameron not telling you,’ Darius said. ‘It was all rather sudden. I do hope we can be friends, Nik.’

Nik rolled his eyes. “Do I look like someone who has friends?”

‘Ash and Amara seem rather fond of you,’ Darius observed.

Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, Ash and Amara make bad choices daily, so I wouldn’t hold either of them to a high standard. Case in point: bringing people back from the dead and killing a million kids, but hey, what do I know?”

And now he’s in the line of fire.

Sympathy shone in Darius’ eyes and it took tremendous effort to not wipe that infuriating look off his face. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not Cameron and I’m sure as hell not Lev. Puppy eyes don’t work on me.”

‘Well, I’m actually a cat.’

“Oh great,” Nik said. “You’re a cat.”

Darius gave him a dry, feline smile. ‘Not a fan of cats?’

“Not this particular one.”

‘If it helps,’ Darius wrote. ‘Cameron loathes cats as well.”

“Well he clearly likes you,” Nik said, frowning. “If you claw up my clothes, I’ll cut your hair off.”

‘Well, I will make a note to leave your clothes alone,’ Darius replied.

“I think you enjoy mocking me,” Nik said. “You get to waltz in and drop into my relationship because Cameron killed you or something. I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic.”

That was the moment Lev chose to poke his head in. His brows furrowed in his usual expression of worry, and he was quick to cross the room. Nik folded his arms as he watched Lev kiss Darius on the cheek.

Traitor.

Lev was just as quick to tuck himself into Nik’s side, however, insistently tugging at Nik’s arms until he could pull it around his shoulders. Against his will, Nik felt himself loosening as Lev scented him, a low soothing purr coming from Lev as he did.

“Is everything okay?” Lev asked.

“I mean I guess,” Nik said, crossly. “I wake up to him in my bed that I can’t even sleep in because I guess it was his bed first, or something.”

Lev nosed at Nik’s jaw lightly. “It was,” Lev said unhelpfully, and then, with irritating optimism, Lev added, “We can pick another room. Any room. I doubt Cameron will make you stay in the rooms he’s moved us to right now. And I also doubt he’d say no about much of anything when it comes to decorating your new room. Not right now, anyway. The opportunities are almost endless.”

“Whatever,” Nik said. “I have to move around my life because Cameron felt bad for killing the guy.” He glared at Darius frowning at him. “You’re not special,” he said. “Just because you’re some pretty face doesn’t mean shit. We’re all pretty faces. Don’t expect me to get in line to kiss your ass like everyone else.”

Darius blinked at him, seemingly bewildered, but he just nodded at him.

“Nikolas,” Lev chastised, but even his scolding was tempered by worry. “Darius hasn’t done anything. And I was the one that asked for him; I’m the one that told Cameron he was still there.” Lev hesitated, and then added gently, “Darius helped me while I was dead. He kept me steady, kept me sane. He deserves another chance as much as I do. More. He’s a kind person, Nik. That’s all.”

Nik sighed through his nose. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Is Cameron home or is he going to resurrect some other not-boyfriend?”

Lev shrugged. “Last I saw he was in here with Darius, so I don’t know.”

‘I think he’s in his office,’ Darius offered.

“I’m hungry,” Nik mumbled, pathetically.

“I can go get Cameron,” Lev offered, oh-so-helpfully. “With everything going on I don't think it’s a good idea for us to touch anything in his kitchen. Besides, Eden should wake up from her nap soon, and she’ll need a snack too.”

“Okay.”

---

Lev knocked on Cameron’s office door lightly, but didn’t wait to open it. The room was dark, and Lev almost assumed it was empty, but he heard a quiet, “Shut the door,” from the direction of Cameron’s desk, so he slipped inside, closing it obediently.

After letting his eyes adjust, Lev realized Cameron was bent over the desk, head in his arms. Lev chose to approach slowly, hovering his hand over Cameron’s shoulder before ultimately letting it drop back to his side instead. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine,” Cameron said, stiffly. “Just a headache.”

Right. Lev worried his lip between his teeth. “Nik’s hungry,” he finally said. “I can make him something, if you’d like.”

“Fine,” Cameron said, dismissively. “Just clean up after yourself.”

Lev nodded, but didn’t move. “I had something else to ask,” he finally said. “If that’s okay?”

“Alright.”

“I should probably get back to training, if I can get Ash to sign off on it? Or Sazra?” Lev fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, and then grimaced. “Or- can I? I don't- it doesn’t have to be you, but- I had planned- without my magic- well, without my magic, I really am useless, aren’t I? And I don’t like feeling like I’m a vulnerability for Nik, especially when he’s pregnant.” He took a deep breath, hardened his tone. “I won’t let anything happen to my mate.”

“Probably,” Cameron agreed. “Get it okayed by Ash and Sazra and I will put it into my schedule. I’ll fit you in.”

“I- oh. Okay,” Lev said, trying not to be too enthusiastic. He put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder as he started to say, “Thank you,” but his voice died a little as he realized just how thin Cameron’s shoulder was.

Cameron carefully removed Lev’s hand from his shoulder. Even in the dark Lev could see Cameron giving him a slow once over, noting how clothes that had fit perfectly a month ago were just a little loose now. Lev hadn’t paid attention before, but Cameron’s shrewd gaze made him hyper aware.

“Make sure you eat too,” was all Cameron said in the end. “And close the door behind you when you leave.”

Lev swallowed. He ran his fingers through Cameron’s hair once, just to reassure himself that he could, that they were both still there and then backed for the door. “I’ll bring you something later,” he promised. “And some painkillers.”

He made sure that the door clicked shut as quietly as he could.

---

While Cyrus flipped through one of the several books he’d lain on the bed, Sorin napped sprawled on his lap. Sorin’s surprisingly strong tail wrapped around his wrist insistently, the prehensile appendage tugging every once and a while as the demon dreamed.

Cyrus had spent the last few hours reading up on the gods. While he was certainly more educated, he felt like it was only a surface level understanding of them. Which- understandable. There was a lot, and these were gods.

Rather than continue to stare blankly at the pages, Cyrus settled more deeply into the pillows he was propped up against. Sorin huffed at him, his tail tightening briefly, but when Cyrus made no move to get up, the demon fell asleep again pretty quickly.

Once the house was quiet, Cyrus closed his eyes and tried to remember how Darius had shown him how to reach out for Asmi. It’d certainly been more ritualistic than Cyrus was able to do right now, but even attempting without the words and candles and pomp and ceremony, when Cyrus opened his eyes, he was back in the warm room, Asmi seated before him.

“Asmi,” Cyrus said, dipping into a small bow. He looked up, offering a small smile. “Will it always be that easy to reach you?”

Asmi lifted a brow. “If you were aware of your studies, you would know,” they said, amused.

Cyrus gave a shrug in acquiescence. “True,” he said, “But who better to ask my questions than you? I’ve been reading, while my mate keeps me on bedrest. Trying to understand all of it. The sheer amount of literature to wade through is... overwhelming.”

Asmi brought their tea to their lips. “I imagine getting caught up on nearly forty years of spellwork will take you some time. I’m sure you will now have plenty of time to do so without your magic distracting you.”

“Was taking my magic an opportunity to learn or a punishment?” Cyrus asked, out of sheer curiosity.

Asmi merely gave Cyrus a slight smile.

Cyrus settled in the closest chair with a bit more weight than he usually would. It seemed even in this dimension he was weaker than usual. “Some things have to remain a secret, then?” He asked, mulling it over.

“I told you there will be a price to pay,” they said. “You will pay it tenfold. I do not like to be made weakened by anyone, and this time, my point will be made.”

“I understand,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t take this lightly, and I will work hard to learn what I can while without magic.”

“Excellent,” Asmi said, setting their mug of tea down. “You will not regain your magic until I am satisfied.” Asmi flicked a hand, and with a ripple of magic Ash, Lev and Darius appeared in the room with them.

Ash was quick to bow deeply before standing upright wearily. “You summoned me?”

Cyrus flicked a glance at the other two; Lev was quite bewildered, though he gave an echo of Ash’s movements after a beat. Darius gave his own slow bow before quietly buckling into the chair behind him.

Cyrus thought about moving to check on him, but Lev beat him to it, fussing quietly while keeping an eye on Asmi warily. As much as he hated to admit it, he was relieved. It would have taken a lot of energy to stand. Instead he fixed Asmi with another curious stare. “I assume you have a message for all four of us?”

“You should watch your assumptions,” Asmi said. “But yes, I do and I did not feel the need to repeat myself four different times.”

“Apologies,” Cyrus murmured, before falling silent expectantly.

“Apologies noted,” Asmi said, crossing their legs. “I have spoken to Levant already, about carrying a piece of the burden should you defy the natural balance once more. You have all felt its effects. There is and will be a void where your magic was and would be, and that void shall remain until you earn the right to your magic. I demand respect from the lot of you and for you to learn a lesson.”

Ash looked a mix of rage and submission but ultimately hung his head without a word.

“How do we earn it?” Lev asked, and then immediately looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up. Cyrus grimaced in sympathy, but he’d been wondering the same thing, and so he simply looked to Asmi again. Earning it could mean a thousand things, and they were all from different places and backgrounds in life.

A serpentine smile curled on Asmi’s lips. “I am glad you ask. You will all learn everything about the gods, you will worship and devote yourselves accordingly. You will become nearly as knowledgeable and devoted as a priestess and you will not have your magic returned to you until all of you satisfy me. Not one, not three. All four of you will satisfy me or none of you will satisfy me.”

“Understood,” Cyrus said. He’d honestly expected something worse, and judging by the surprise on Lev’s face, so had the angel. Ash and Darius were harder to read, but that was just fine.

Asmi’s eyes narrowed, seemingly reading his mind. “Be glad it is not Kaveh. Would you wish to want harsher punishments, I am sure they will be more than willing to provide.”

“Of course,” Cyrus murmured. Where faint enthusiasm had grown in Lev's expression, it’d quickly become ashen, and he’d reached for Darius’ hand silently.

Darius quietly squeezed Lev's hand. “Your mercy is much appreciated,” Darius murmured, hoarsely. “We will do all that you ask.”

Lev nodded vigorously, again simply echoing the sentiment.

“I will make sure to help in any way,” Ash said. “I already have Lev reading the old books on the various gods from Cameron’s library.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “I might reach out to you,” he said to Ash, before adding, “And Sorin can find resources for me in places I cannot go. Though it might be a few days; we’re going to be moving soon, before Biela’s mercy wanes. I won’t be welcome in demonic territory at all for the foreseeable future, if ever.”

“I can’t leave Cameron’s house,” Lev piped up nervously. “And Darius shouldn’t be moving around much yet either.”

“Well it’s not like your magic is going anywhere,” Asmi replied. “I’m sure you will figure out how to get to a temple. The lot of you are irritatingly creative.”

“Best see if Biela has any mercy left to spare,” Cyrus advised, even as he thought internally that they might not get their magic back in the next half century just from this.

“Better chance of draining the ocean with a straw,” Ash muttered.

Lev sighed softly, and looked down at Darius. “I can talk to Cameron,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

When Darius nodded tiredly, Asmi said, “If you all have nothing else interesting to say I am sending you back.” They didn’t give much room for Lev, Darius, or Ash to speak before they disappeared.

Cyrus blinked at where they had been. “Thank you,” he said, and then clarified, “For taking the time to explain. You could have left us to flounder.”

“I see no point wasting my time,” they said, dismissively. “You will likely have the most to learn, as you think you are above myself and had performed that heinous magic twice. You will find my mercy and my forgiveness is not easily won.”

Asmi waved a hand and sent Cyrus back to his body. Judging from how Sorin’s face was so close to his he could feel the demon’s whiskers tickling his face, it’d been obvious that Cyrus hadn’t been in bed with him in any way beyond physical. Sorin pressed a paw to Cyrus’ chest slowly, spreading his toes and digging his claws in. Five sharp points let Cyrus know just how pisssed Sorin was.

“Alright, alright,” Cyrus muttered. “I’ll rest.”

Sorin gave a pointed sniff, but backed off, nosing the books onto the floor before Cyrus could move them himself. He draped himself across Cyrus’ body, purring deep in his chest the moment Cyrus relaxed.

Point taken.

---

Nik found himself getting summoned to Cameron’s office. He couldn’t even come get him himself, instead he had one of his toadies come and fetch him. Nik did pause, though, when he realized Cameron’s office was pitch black. “Cameron?”

“Sit.”

“Well great to see you, too,” Nik muttered, plopping down on the chair across from him. “For what have you summoned me?”

Cameron looked up in his direction, his eyes glowing animal bright in the darkness. It was so leery; NIk kept forgetting demons could do that. “I want you to go stay with your brother,” he said.

“You’re seriously kicking me out?” Nik said. “Is it because I refused to kiss Darius’ ass?”

Cameron blinked slowly at him, clearly not aware of Nik and Darius’ previous conversation. “No,” he said, mildly. “And it’s not forever. You can come back, if you want, during the weekends or for a couple of days during the week, the choice is yours.”

“Is this because of the demon lands being poisoned?”

“Yes,” Cameron said. “And since you decided to keep the fetus, and you decided to mate with me, that makes you both my responsibility, and I’m not going to let your sentimentality cause a miscarriage or stillbirth because you wanted to be near Lev.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “So what, because you mated with me, so my dad couldn’t take me home, you now have control of me?”

“If you want to be so frank,” Cameron said, bluntly, “we can do that. Demonic customs and all of that. However, consider it me giving you the choice to come back a few days of the week. I’d rather keep you off demonic land all together if I had my way about it.”

“And you don’t?” Nik snapped.

“If I had my way about anything, your brother would be dragging you by your ear back to his house in the next thirty minutes,” Cameron said, sharply. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be back until the fetus was well past four months old when the likelihood of an infant death was not nearly so high. If you wish to act like a petulant child, do it on your own time.”

“I am not acting like a child.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “you are. You’re throwing hissy fits when you’re not getting your way and yelling at people for things they had nothing to do with. You are actively being a selfish little twat who refuses to not do what the hell is the right thing to do because you want to stay with Lev.”

Nik stared at him in shocked outrage. “Did you seriously call me a twat?”

“Is that all you got from that,” Cameron snapped. “So help me if I have to make the choice for you, you are not coming back to this house for the next eight months, you hear me? I will have your brother tie you to a fucking tree to make my godsdamned point.”

Nik opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. “...fine,” he said. “I’ll go. I just, I didn’t want to leave either of you, especially when you can’t follow.”

“We will be fine,” Cameron said, a shade calmer. “I’m sure Lev will facetime you or knit you some baby blanket to pass the time, or whatever it is angels do for their pregnant mates. I don’t really care as long as both of you stop pissing me off.”

Any other time the idea of Lev knitting would make him wheeze. “I’m sorry,” Nik said, leaning back into the chair, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m just- I feel like I can’t get my footing lately and all of us are spinning out.”

“Well this will be a good chance for you to get grounded then, isn’t it?”

“When am I going?” he said, defeatedly.

“Nate will be here within the hour.”

----

It was dark when Eden woke. It was dark and she did not like that. No one was there to pick her up, and she didn’t like that even more. Papi had left her again. She remembered him leaving, and then Da had put her to bed instead of the pale one later that night. That was too many alterations to what was right and she did not like it.

Not one bit.

A shrill shriek bubbled in her throat, and she banged her hands on the side of her crib the moment she pulled herself up.

No one came to pick her up, which really was unfair. Eden deserved to be picked up. She screeched again, but the house was silent other than her cries.

Filled with the determination of a child wronged by the world, Eden scrabbled her way over the side of the crib. She hit the floor with a solid thud, and almost began to cry from the shock of it all. After a few minutes of sniffling, Eden was on her way again, hooking her little fingers around the door. It took a few tries, and she got it stuck on her leg more than once, but she got it open.

One of the Big Talls stared down at her, seeming as startled to see her as she was to see them. Rather than wait to see what they’d do, Eden booked it, moving as fast as she could crawl on chubby baby legs.

Behind her, the Big Tall said something loudly, and unwelcome hands grabbed her around the waist. Eden wailed a toddler war cry and bit the nearest finger with her little fangs. That seemed to work, because very quickly she found herself on the ground, even if the Big Tall still had a grip on her, and had cushioned her fall.

---

Cameron had yet to go to bed. He was sitting it the dark in Darius’ room past midnight with a small light and his book. His head snapped up when he heard Eden’s telltale screech-crying right aside a grown demon’s screaming as well.

He quietly sat down his book, ignoring the pain pulsing behind his eye and wrapping around his head and headed for the sound in question.

He found Eden on the floor, sitting and crying and smacking the sentry’s face, perhaps to get him to stop screaming. Or maybe she just felt like hitting someone.

Cameron scooped her up off the floor and peered down at the sentry’s bleeding hand and back to Eden’s sharp little fangs. “I see your venom has come in,” he sighed. He toed the sentry’s face up in his direction. “I will make sure to add this inconvenience to your paycheck. When you get a hold of yourself, take the rest of the night off.”

With that, Cameron stepped around him and took Eden down the hall. She was sniffling and mouthing at Cameron’s shoulder. He lightly pinched her leg. “Bite me and I’ll bite back,” he warned.

She seemed intent on ignoring his threat.

Cameron opened the door of the bedroom Lev was sleeping in and flicked the lights on. “Wake up,” he said, even as Lev stirred awake.

Lev propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at them. “Eden?”

“You wanted to keep the baby,” Cameron said, irritably, tracking across the room. “Take her. Be careful, though, her venom came in.”

“Oh baby,” Lev said, reaching for her. He was sitting up by now, and once Eden was safely in his lap he started rubbing her back lightly. “She can stay in my bed tonight. Maybe she had a nightmare.”

“Maybe,” Cameron agreed, tiredly. “Just don’t roll on top of her, I guess.” He started for the doorway and flicked the lights off once more, at least giving himself some relief. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Cameron made his way back to his chair, rubbing his temples on the way. Unsurprisingly Darius was sitting up, waiting for him. He patted the bed on the side Cameron had always slept on, clearly offering him the spot.

“You should be asleep.”

Darius gave him a very long look that Cameron chose to interpret as he should be as well- and then promptly dismissed it. “I have work I need to be doing.”

A small crease formed between Darius’ brows and he patted the bed more insistently.

Cameron sighed sharply. “If I get in, will you stop being a nuisance and go to sleep?” When Darius nodded, pleased, Cameron sighed once more and began undressing slowly, doing his best to not further aggravate his headache.

He crawled into the bed and put his face in the pillow, all too aware of the coolness of Darius’ skin next to his.

tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: the gods #ch: ash #ch: darius #hell to pay

38 notes · View notes

mariustears · 3 years

Text

2.5k words of Marius angst + mild Marius x Rosa. The fic is inspired by this post.

Forever

A word so full of lies, that even the best liar couldn't make it believable.

Marius stands in a room. It's dark and empty, at least he assumed it to be. He couldn't remember how he got there. It didn't seem like there were any windows in the room considering that he would probably be seeing some sort of lighting coming from the outside if there were any, even if it was night outside. Was he in a basement perhaps?

He took a few steps forward, then a few more. He couldn't tell where exactly in the room he was, or how big it might be. It was even hard to see the silhouette of his own hand in front of his face.

"-rius!" A voice? It sounded familiar, it sounded like the voice of someone he could only vaguely remember and yet it sounded like he knew it as well as he knew his own voice, a part of him, long forgotten.

"Marius! There you are!" Marius turned around, even if there was someone in the room with him, he couldn't tell. The voice came from all sides but it was as quiet as a whisper.

"I was wondering where you went. Don't just go running off like that, I'll get worried!" The voice got louder but it was still so far that Marius feared he would miss the words if he dared to answer. But even if it was louder, Marius didn't know who it was, it could be his kidnapper for all he knew. How big exactly could this room be if the voice was this quiet, and what did they even mean?

"Look, I found a chrysanthemum in the garden. They're pretty, right? Someday I'd like to own my own flower garden and plant the prettiest flowers!"

Marius remembered. Giann. When he and Giann were children they liked to play in the garden together. Giann loved flowers and liked showing Marius the ones he found especially pretty, sometimes even hoping that Marius could draw them for him. But how did he hear them now? Giann was gone… but then how could he hear his voice so clearly now…?

"Who are you! Don't play tricks on me, show yourself!"

The lights in the room went on but due to Marius' eyes having adjusted to the darkness that previously engulfed the whole room, he was now blinded by the sudden brightness. It took him a few seconds until he could fully open his eyes again but he couldn't believe what he saw after opening them.

Marius was no longer standing in the odd room, he was now standing in the middle of a beautiful garden. It was his parents' garden. He looked around a few times, repeatedly opening and closing his eyes in confusion. This wasn't possible. How-

"Hey, Marius…" Marius turned around towards the voice. It came from a boy sitting on a white bench nearby a giant fountain. It was Giann. He was looking towards the fountain, or more specifically towards the boy who was sitting on the fountain with his feet dangling in the water, Marius. "... remember when I told you that I'd like to own a flower garden in the future and plant all the epiphyllum in the world for mom?"

"Promise me you'll take care of it when I someday won't be able to anymore, okay?"

The boy at the fountain turned his head towards Giann, seemingly not believing what he just heard. "Don't say something like that! You'll take care of it forever! You can't just leave it all in my hands… I don't even know how to take care of flowers..."

Forever. Oh how he wished that their forever would have been just a bit longer…

"Well, maybe you should listen more to what I tell you then! I've explained it to you so many times already!"

Giann stood up and walked towards the fountain, he stopped next to the boy in the fountain with a grin on his face. "Giann…? What are you doing?"

"You just have to water most flowers every once in a while, just like…"

Giann put his hand into the water and…

*splash*

...splashed a generous amount of the water into the boy's face. "...that!" and after finishing his sentence he ran off, deeper into the garden, in hopes that Marius wouldn't be able to catch him, as he knew that the consequences of his actions would be bad if he did end up being caught.

"COME BACK HERE!"

The lights went back off, and once again, Marius was left in complete darkness. What was that? How could he see such a distant memory so vividly even after all those years?

Minutes went by, minutes that felt like hours, minutes that were spent thinking about what he saw. "Forever." It wouldn't leave Marius' mind. It was such a simple thing said by children who did not know that there was no forever for anyone.

Marius had always promised to protect Giann, while Giann had always promised to protect Marius. Forever.

But there was no forever for them. Marius had failed his part of the promise. Marius had failed to protect the one he spent his whole childhood with. The one who always believed in Marius' dream of being an artist. The one who had been there for Marius until the very last moment. And he failed to do something as simple as protecting him.

Marius' legs gave in and he now found himself kneeling on the ground, tears slowly but surely making their way onto his cheeks.

He lost track of time eventually. How long did he spend on the ground? He didn't know.

Marius stood up, his legs had fallen asleep at some point and with no wall being nearly to support him he was struggling to stay up.

Suddenly, the little vision he had was gone again and he could feel something being held in front of his eyes.

"Buh!" The object in front of his eyes was gone again and he was suddenly standing on a busy market street with many vendors having small tables set up with their wares. Someone took his hand to spin him around and the contact made him realise that the object in front of his face must have been two hands holding his eyes closed.

"Have you been waiting for a long time? I'm sorry… I was stuck in traffic for a while…"

He turned around with the hand guiding him and...

...Rosa? But how-

"Hey, is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You were back? But this couldn't be, both you and Giann were-

"Where have you been? I was worried for you! I… I thought that you were…" Marius finally managed to say something, but his fear and worry had made his words come out louder than he wanted them to be.

Rosa looked back at him, unsure how to respond. "Marius I was just stuck in traffic, I'm sorry that I worried you. I should have messaged you when I had the ability to..."

"No it's fine, I'm sorry I was just a bit lost in my mind and didn't expect you to arrive so quickly, don't worry about it."

It didn't seem like Rosa fully believed what he said, but he couldn't come up with anything better to say.

"Hmm alright... should we check out the market then? Don't tell me you also forgot about the reason we wanted to meet up here!" Rosa laughed, it was that beautiful laugh that Marius had almost forgotten the sound of.

"Of course not! How could I forget!" He took her hand in his, the comfortable warmth of her hand spread over his whole body, until it reached his heart. He missed this, he missed seeing that smile, hearing that laugh and most importantly, he missed her. But why did he miss someone who was only gone from his sight for maybe a day?

Marius and Rosa walked through the Market until they arrived at a specific vendor. They sold jewellery and small handmade trinkets. Their wares weren't of the cheap sort but the quality looked to be quite high too. He saw Rosa stare at a special necklace, it was a golden chain with a golden rose attached to it. The gem in the middle of the rose seemed to be a ruby.

"Oh, Miss! Would you be interested in the necklace? It's quite pretty, don't you think? I made this necklace with the idea of young love in mind. The ruby represents the new found love, while the rose surrounding it represents the strong bond that will hold the love together for as long as you take good care of it."

"Ah, it looks very pretty but I'm sure it's not cheap… especially considering the hard work that you must have put into it!"

As much as she tried to keep her eyes off of the beautiful necklace to look at the vendor, Marius could see that she liked it.

"I'll buy it."

"Marius no, it's fine! You don't have to-"

"It's an apology for earlier. Make sure to take care of it well so our love doesn't wither, okay?"

Rosa turned away from him but it was too late, Marius had already seen the slight pink hint on her cheeks.

"What a wonderful choice! And because you two are so lovely, I'll even give you a discount." The vendor was an elderly man, so it didn't feel fair for Marius to take a discount, especially not considering that he had handmade all of his jewelry.

"There is no need for a discount, I don't mind paying the full price. Your jewelry is high class compared to the necklaces you can buy in stores nowadays, I admire your work." The vendor looked happy to hear the compliments, Marius felt bad that he had to sell his works so low but he knew that it was hard to sell jewelry that didn't have a name associated with it.

Once Marius had paid for the necklace, they both made their way through the rest of the market. They had bought a few things like clothes, vases and other handmade things.

"Stand still for a moment." They were now on a less busy street, the perfect moment for Marius to finally put the necklace on her. He let go of her hand and checked through their bags to check where it was.

"Hm? Is there something wrong?" Rosa stood still with a confused look on her face while Marius grabbed the small box with the necklace from one of the bags.

"Nope, just wait and see." Marius stepped behind her, opened the small box, and gently put it around her neck.

"How does it feel?"

Rosa held the rose shaped piece in her hand before answering, "It's beautiful… thank you."

Marius walked in front of her to see for himself, she was right. It was beautiful. But not as beautiful as the person wearing it.

"Almost as beautiful as you."

"Marius von Hagen!"

"What? Can't I tell the truth?"

Marius loved moments like these with her. Moments where they could laugh together and where he could see her face slowly getting that nice hint of pink that he found so pretty on her. He wished they would never end, perhaps even that they would last forever.

They continued walking down the street until they could hear a voice screaming for a thief, a man dressed in dark clothes ran past them while an elderly woman tried to follow. "Please help me! He stole my purse!" She screamed towards the two.

"Wait here, I'll catch him!" Marius put his bags down and ran after the man without looking back. The man was quick but he didn't seem to know the area very well. They ended up at a dead end eventually, the man managed to jump over the wall thanks to a dumpster in front of it but he seemed to be tired of their cat and mouse game and dropped the purse before disappearing.

Marius went back to the street where he left Rosa and the woman. He felt bad for just running off without saying goodbye but every second counted and he would see her again once he was back anyway, right?

He was almost back, just one more block before he would be back. But then he stopped in his tracks. Marius could hear sirens and they sounded like they were coming from… no…

Time stood still. Marius felt sick, as if he knew something was wrong. This was for something else right? A lost cat in a tree, or maybe the woman called the police because he took so long? That had to be it. Yes, he was just overreacting.

Marius ran around the block, there were two police cars standing at the street he had left them at. He could see the elderly woman but… where was Rosa? She was surely just behind one of the cars, right?

"Ma'am, so you went to the store on the other side of the street to call the police and then she..." Marius could hear people talking once he came closer but he couldn't make out much of what was said.

"Sir, we can't let you through here." A police officer stopped him. Marius felt dizzy. He could see their bags laying on the ground. Where was she?

"Where… where is Rosa?"

"Rosa?"

"The young woman with brown hair who was waiting here for me with an elderly woman! Where…" Marius could see the elderly woman talking to an officer until she noticed him. She pointed towards Marius and then walked towards him with the officer.

"He is the man who chased the thief for me! He was walking down the street with the nice lady!"

"Where is she-"

"Sir, please calm down. I'll explain everything to you."

Marius was let through by one of the officers and told to follow the officer who was talking to the elderly woman.

"So Ma'am, you've stated that he had followed a thief who had stolen your purse, correct?"

"Yes, he…"

Marius couldn't concentrate. He kept looking towards the bags, towards where she should be standing, waiting. He had gone through this exact scene before. He had lost her once before. This was another memory.

He walked towards the bags, ignoring the officer telling him to wait. There was an alleyway nearby that he hadn't noticed when they walked on the street together.

He took a few steps towards the alleyway. There was something shimmering in the small sun rays that had found their way into the dark alleyway. He walked towards it.

It was the necklace. A golden chain with a rose attached to it and a ruby in the middle. It was ripped apart, possibly broken in a fight.

Forever. He had once again wished for a forever. And once again it was taken from him.

Marius kneeled down to pick up the necklace and when he looked up, he was back in the darkness.

Once again, he couldn't protect the person he promised it to.

Once again, he had failed.

Once again, he had lost someone he loved.

Once again, he was sitting on the ground, the tears now slowly falling onto the rose.

Marius opened his eyes after a few moments, or was it hours? He didn't know.

He was now in his bed, looking at the ceiling. It was a dream, all of it.

A dream that will forever haunt him. A dream that will forever remind him of his failures.

Forever. A promise that will eventually break into tiny pieces, no matter how hard you lie to yourself.

#tears of themis #marius von hagen #tears of themis marius #tears of themis fanfic #tears of themis angst #tears of themis rosa #Tears_fics

47 notes · View notes

mintytrifecta · 3 years

Text

Blood and Whiskey

Summary: washed up actor and a time-warping talk show host who likes disco walk into a bar

Aka: I was getting tired of writing one setting and the same people for forever and wrote this drabble as a break

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

If you were to ask the actor standing in front of you why he did what he did, there’s seldom doubt he’d be able to clearly tell you.

A grand finale.

A final show.

A shake of his fist at the cruel fate life handed him.

Just like him, all it became was an extravagant joke.

Actor growls, shoving away the echoing feeling of shadows with eyes burning into his back, grabbing and ripping him apart, pulling him back together vertebrae by vertebrae until he danced to a vengeful tune once more.

The entity, to put it lightly, has not made it easy to escape it’s grasp. A fool, he was, to think he could use its power to his own whim and not face the consequences.

Even so, with a new body and purpose he can see it lurking in the shadows.

Even now, as he trudged through a dimly lit street in the dead of winter he can hear it ringing in his ears.

After all, it takes time to escape from memories.

God he needs a drink…

Actor stops in his tracks and looks to his side. Blaring music vibrates in his ribs, shaking and stirring his insides.

It’s a bar.

A very neon, very bright bar.

A perfect place to sulk, He thinks to himself.

Tightening his grip around the pockets of his red velvet jacket, Actor takes a breath.

And walks in.

The music is even louder on the inside than from the outside. For some unknown reason, that fact surprises him.

All around the hall people can be seen dancing in a frenzied craze. Lights flashing in a showcase of every conceivable color available to the blind eye. Under the lights, a live band was playing some indistinguishable disco with a fervor and passion Actor wishes he still possessed. He scoffs and sharply inhales through his nose.

The air reeks with the familiar stench of alcohol and mania.

Actor squints his eyes and burrows his face deeper into the black scarf tied around his neck and shuffles his way to the leather bar stool. Slamming his hand on the wooden surface of the table to get the bartender's attention.

With a sigh, they dreadfully approach.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

Actor mumbled deeply, head miserably laying on polished oak. "Red wine. Any year, I don't care."

The bartender curtly nods and leaves to get the drink. Actor's in no hurry tonight, why should he care if it's taking forever?

"Here you go, sir. Red wine, 1926."

Ah, prohibition wine. Nothing quite like tasting secret rebellion acid slipping down your throat, whispering sweet illegality and chaos in the wake of conformity.

Actor downs the wine in one gulp and haphazardly slams the cup onto the table. Beside him, a man chuckles.

"You sure needed that one, huh friend?"

Turning to face the voice, Actor attempted to hide his widening eyes in reaction to the speaker’s appearance.

A man in a silky pink long-sleeve shirt tucked into… the ugliest shade of yellow Actor had ever seen paired with white shoes, stained and worn from long nights out dancing, no doubt.

The top of his head layed home to the biggest and most extravagant pink afro Actor had ever seen in his life.

And on his face… an eerily familiar, upturned, almost pink-like at the edges mustache.

What a strange-looking person, Actor thought.

“Yeah… hey, aren’t you one of the stage performers?” He questions offhandedly. Actor was sure he’d seen him perform when coming in.

“Oh, not for tonight. Maybe tomorrow’s yesterday though…”

Actor stares at the man, trying to piece together his offputting comment.

“You… what?”

The man grins at him, swishing in his hand a martini that definitely wasn’t there before.

“What did you say, friend?”

“Your-your comment on when you’re going to perform. What did you say?”

He gazes at Actor, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes glaze over. He sits still on his creaking barstool, focusing on nothing and everything before jumping in his seat and grinning at Actor.

“Bah, who can remember things like that? I know I can’t. Anyways, I don’t think I caught your name, fellow. Or maybe I forgot that too, it’s entirely possible.”

Actor blinks with incredulity. His words caught in his throat, unable to pass.

“My name is… irrelevant.” He finally decides on saying.

“Irrelevant, hm? Sounds french! Have you ever been there? I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.”

Actor raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention and signals another round. It’s going to be a long night.

“Firstly, it’s winter. Second of all I didn’t even get your name, how am I supposed to talk to you without it.”

The man sits gasps for air, dramatically arching his back in shock before responding with a curt bow in his chair.

“Oh my apologies, Irrelevant, it must have slipped my mind! Name’s Wilford Warfstache!”

“Wilford Warfstache?” Actor echoes.

“That’s what I said!”

Actor snorts, picking up his second glass of wine, inspecting it as if passing final judgement.

“Well, Mr. Warfstache, what exactly do you want with me? Out of all the seats in the bar why’d you sit next to this one, huh?”

Wilford smiles and pats him heartily on the back. “My friend, you looked so lonely sitting at the bar with nobody else around you! I-I figured you could use some good company!”

Actor rolls his eyes. “How thoughtful…”

Wilford nods brightly, looking the Actor up and down with a slight hitch in his breath.

“Say… do I know you from somewhere?”

Actor winces, tirelessly holding on to a shred of hope that tells him he hasn’t faded into obscurity.

“I’m an actor. There’s a good chance you’ve seen me on the silver screen.”

With this revelation, Wilford’s face lights up in wonder.

“An actor! That’s fantastic! What movies have you done, my friend? Was there love? Was there murder? Was there treacherous betrayal at the hands of an ally?” He questions, voice getting louder and louder with each passing query.

“You could say that… It’s been a while since I landed a good role, however.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to stay like that! I’m sure you can find something big to be in soon!” Wilford cheers passionately.

“Yeah right… the last time I did some big movie was… god I don’t even know how long it’s been since then.”

Wilford pats Actor pitifully on the back, softening his voice to the best of his ability.

“Well, whatever role you played I’m sure it was wonderful!”

Actor took a sip of his wine. “I played a detective.”

“A detective! That’s a wonderful role to act! Why, I happen to have a friend who’s a detective and he’s one of the best people you’ll ever meet, trust you me.”

Actor nods solemnly, eyes and throat caught in a crossfire of guilt and rage. “So did I. Met him on set as a professional consultant and stayed friends afterwards. At least until...” he trails off.

“Until what?” Wilford asks.

“I… did something. Something bad that I can’t take back. I got stuck with a shitty hand, tried to use it and it backfired and no matter what I try to do I can’t get new cards. It’s not fair!” Actor growls.

Wilford hums, circling the edges of the martini glass with the paper umbrella. “Such is life, my friend. You can’t always make sense of it’s chaos, hell knows I don’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Actor spits with venom. “Oh, please. What bad thing could you have possibly done?”

“Everyone has some blood on their hands, my friend. There’s no need to dig for specifics.”

“And yet, here we are. Hell, the only good outcome from anything I did slipped out of my fingers and forever from my grasp.”

Wilford held out a finger, motioning for Actor to shut it.

“Never say never, my good man! If I know anything, it’s that things always come back to you. If they don’t you keep looking for them!”

“How inspirational.” Actor deadpans.

“It’s true! I say you should keep looking for the positive, even if it’s hard!”

"I don't know…"

Wilford tuts sotfly. "Come on now, don't you trust ol' Warfy?"

"Not really, no."

He shockingly gasps, bringing a shaking hand to his chest and spilling his martini on the floor. "W-well whyever not? I give pretty good advice, why not trust me?"

"I met you tonight."

"But it feels so much longer than that, doesn't it?" Wilford sighs, leaning his head on Actor's sunken shoulders.

He shakes the afro-d man off and takes a swing of his wine.

"Whatever you say, Will."

The two sit in silence, taking in the music echoing in the hall with comfort.

"You know, I did get an offer for this television series a while ago."

"Did you, now?"

"It was for some kind of choose-your-own-adventure thing. It seemed silly at the time and I didn't say anything yet but maybe I'll give it a shot." He mumbles.

"Wonderful idea, my friend! That seems marvelous to work on."

Actor sluggishly smiles. "You think?"

Nodding brightly, Wilford responds. "I do! And if it's any consolation, my friend," he pauses and shuffles through his afro, pulling out a small, pink flower. "I think you'd make a wonderful hero."

Actor lightly picks the flower from his hand, petting the rosy petal. It's soft and delicate, smooth under his touch.

"Whatever you choose to do, you'll be great at. I'm sure of it."

He gazes at his newfound friend, eyes shining with reinvigorated light for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Will."

"Anytime, good man! Anytime."

Actor stands up and brushes his jacket, smiling at Will. "I think it's time I left. I've got a friend to pay a visit to."

"Good luck! And remember you always have a friend here!" Wilford raises his full martini glass high into the air.

"You got it, Will."

And with that, Actor left. Perhaps it's time to resume his search for a certain Mayor.

Back at the bar, Wilford chuckles into his glass.

"What a strangely familiar person…"

#Markiplier #Who Killed Markiplier #Fanfiction #My Writing #WKM #Actor Mark #Actor Mark WKM #Wilford Warfstache #William J. Barnum #Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache #dude why is wil so fun to write

74 notes · View notes

dollfaced-erin · 3 years

Text

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

A/n: and i thought this was gonna be a short chapter. There was lots more I wanted to include, but it might bore you guys from the looooong story!! (s if it wasn’t already long in the first place.)

CHAPTER FOUR

The game was set up, and both players stood at their point. Clutching the cue stick tightly in her hand, Sebastian briefly explained the rules to the new girl. She knew the main basics of the game, but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to beat Sebastian. Not while he was looking as smug as he was now.

It was sure who had the most experience here.

Being a good sport, Sebastian gave her the first turn to hit the cue ball. The said female scattered all the balls across the board. Turns began exchanging between the two competitors, and the spectators by the side were literally on their toes.

“What’s got Sebastian so worked up all a sudden?” Abigail said, whispering into Sam’s ear. The blonde shrugged, speechless towards Sebastian’s sudden change from his signature cold and reserved to jealous and competitive.

“Is it because (Y/n) came and everyone liked her?” Sam asked, pulling out one of the most logical reasons he could find. Abigail shook her head, “I don’t think he’ll be affected by that. Was it something between Robin or Maru, perhaps?”

Sam really had no idea. “I really have no idea, but that actually makes sense, or he just wants to show off his moves,” he whispered again. “But do you remember how Sebastian started playing pool?” he asked the dyed- haired girl.

“Quite long ago, actually. It was when we were still kids. Probably when the old farm had the owner before (Y/n). You remember the old man had...a relative was it? And he taught us how to play pool with...that...girl,” Abigail trailed off, her thoughts and memories muddled up in her mind.

“He really liked to play pool after being taught. Especially when he played around with the girl. Kept playing even though she already left till he became the him now,”

“Really? I don’t really remember, but it must’ve that far away. I think the time you’re talking about was when I just moved here,” Sam replied. “Little girl, you said?” he asked her once more.

“Hm..it seems vague to me, but it feels like a dream too.”

The players ignored the topic the two were discussing, currently trying to focus on their game of pool. But apparently the topic was quite sensitive to Sebastian, making him accidentally hit cue ball too hard, resulting the white ball going off the board and smacking (Y/n) square in her right collarbone.

“Ah!” the girl yelped in pain, her features morphing into one of shock. Sebastian was shocked with what happened and immediately placed the cue stick down, rushing over to the girl he accidentally injured.

The two gasped at the commotion and leapt of their seats, heading towards the girl. She was wincing slightly at the pain, but most likely from the shock.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?!” he bombarded her with questions, grabbing the arm he hit, pulling the collar of her shirt slightly to get a better look at the injury. He winced. It was starting to redden, most likely about to bruise.

The loud thump from collision of the heavy ball and the bone and the gasps from the game room raised suspicion from the others in the main hall. Even over the music, (Y/n) could grasp the number of eyes being turned in her direction.

“It’s okay! It doesn’t hurt at all!” (Y/n) assured, panicking at the crowd of friends that started to swarm her. This isn’t good. If word gets out from the others in the main hall of the Saloon, who knows what mean rumors would spread out.

“Are you su--” “Let’s take five, alright? Boy, I think I need a drink!” (Y/n) said a little too loudly and off. Abigail realized her eyes were wide and her skin was paling. Her earlier frown was stretching into a stiff smile.

As things began to settle down once more, the (h/c) girl went to the vending machine and pulled out a grape-flavored fizzy drink. Popping the lid, spun around, glancing at the main hall as she did. Less eyes have been looking at her now. She sighed and unscrewed the cap of the drink, making her way to the bright red sofa Sam previously sat on.

“Come on, guys!” Abigail called, making a face at the males’ questionable expressions, signaling that they should go on with what she had started. Abigail was a quick one to catch on, following the suit and plopping herself on the blur sofa next to (Y/n).

Resting her right arm on the plush armrest, she raised an eyebrow at the guys who hadn’t moved an inch. Sam blinked before letting out a boisterous laugh, heading over to the girls, sitting next to Abigail, the latter bouncing from the force used to sit on the sofa.

Sebastian sighed and tailed after Sam, sitting next to (Y/n), since that was literally the only empty spot left. Guilt was eating away at him, especially when he looked at the angry red mark that imprinted itself on the delicate bone.

“Sorry, Sebastian,” the girl apologized, making Sebastian raise an eyebrow at her sudden apology. “You know that I’m the one that has to apologize, right? But why’d you pretend you were okay?” he asked, leaving the two speechless.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not okay,” the girl said, making all of them crack up at her reference on a certain homework meme. “No really,” Sebastian spluttered between laughs. “Anyways, why’d you do that?”

“I realized that when you crowded me, lots of eyes started to turn. Like, I didn’t want any commotion, not when I’ve just moved here. Sounds cliche, but I am afraid that people will talk bad about you,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I’ve had enough experience with gossip and crowds.”

Sebastian behind (Y/n) wasn’t any better. He looked as if guilt was about to eat him alive. He never knew his strength would accidentally hurt her directly. It’s time he man up for the consequences.

“Anyways, how is your collarbone?” asked the dark-haired male, making the female turn over to him. “Here, let me take a look,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

(Y/n) seemed to have froze at this point. Not even daring to do so much than breathe. Earlier she had the confidence to push him off since there were so many eyes on them, but now? Now she’s just stuck in place as she finally processed that...that...he’s actually touching her!

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” he asked as he tugged the collar of the shirt, getting a closer look at the forming bruise. “Y-yeah!” (Y/n) said, averting her gaze as an embarrassed smile made its way on her lips and her face burned red hot.

Holding the shirt down with his left hand, his right lightly stroked over the internal injury, pressing it slightly with a finger. The pressure made the girl yelp in pain, and he panicked asking over and over if she was alright.

As much as Abigail was amused with all this, she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous at how he could casually touch the (h/c) girl. She was friends with her first, and she wasn’t about to back off easily.

Deciding to ditch the game they were playing, they called it a night. Robin popped up ‘round the corner. “Sebby! Me and Demetrius are heading back first!” she chirped before her green eyes landed on the farmer.

“Oh! While you’re at it, maybe walk (Y/n) home! It’s dangerous at night!” she said, nodding over to (Y/n) before she left with her husband...and four speechless young adults.

“It can’t be helped, then,” Sebastian sighed. “(Y/n), Abigail, lets go,” he said, getting up as the two females followed the suit, leaving the place with Sam behind them.

It was a kind of routine, where they’ll part at the Saloon, Sebastian dropping of Abigail at Pierre’s before making his way back home up in the mountains. It used to make him have a...uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, where he’d feel all...embarrassed and flustered. But now? Now he just felt...neutral towards her. Like...he had no feelings for her anymore. He didn’t have ‘the one’ feeling anymore.

But the silence between him and (Y/n) as he walked her back...it was...content. It wasn’t awkward like he initially thought it was. Scratch it. He felt that this was quite nice. A quite walk in the night, no words needed between them, no awkward silence, just....peaceful. But something was bothering his mind.

“Hey, (Y/n),” he started, just as the two had parted ways with Abigail. The girl let out a hum, ensuing him to continue. “I think I’m the only one who noticed, but...when Abby and Sam started to crowd you, you seemed quite...scared,” the girl visibly tensed. “If it’s not too much, what’s up?”

(Y/n) let out a nervous laugh as they walked through the dark bus stop. “Ah, you’re quite sharp, aren’t you?” she remarked. “But...I’ve had my fair share of gossips and crowds. And maybe...they were bad experiences for me. I felt so...not pathetic, but...suffocated,” she trailed off, only to flip back to Sebastian. “I don’t mean that you guys were suffocating! I meant--”

“You meant that the atmosphere of people watching was suffocating, wasn’t it?” he finished for her, making her look down and nod in agreement. The light of the farmhouse began to enter their vision.

As the two climbed the porch of the house, Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder once more. “Before I go back, I want to see the bruise once more. Is that okay?” he asked, and the girl nodded.

The two entered the home, and it was a whole lot tidier than the last time Sebastian stepped into the wooden structure. Unlike the last time, it was cold and dusty, but now, it was bright and warm. Almost inviting. For a person who lives in the basement, he wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

(Y/n) shrugged of the jacket and sat on the chair located in the middle of the room, tucked next to a dining table. Sebastian took his eyes off his surroundings and approached the (h/c) girl. Like before, he nudged the collar of the shirt off of her shoulder to get a better look. “I’ll get some ointment for you tomorrow, (Y/n). Sorry again,” he said.

“You don’t need to, Sebby,” she said before she shut her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. That was really rude of me. Anyways, this is a pinch unlike the monsters in the caves!” she laughed off, waving her hand.

That’s when Sebastian saw a faint scarred line dragged around the tip of her shoulder to her back, concealed by her clothing. He stepped forward, grabbing her shoulder once more. An old scar.

“Where’d you get this, (Y/n)?” he said, referring to the scar that imbedded itself into her joint. He really wasn’t one to go on about something small. So what if she had scars here and there? It couldn’t matter to him. She could’ve been injured a while back, right?

But this...was something he had seen before. And it was in his nightmare. Even before she moved here. But if he remembered right, then the girl in his dream...

“I...I got it when I was a kid. Long time ago really. Doctor said it should go away soon,” she said, a bright smile on her face. But that didn’t satisfy Sebastian. “I said, where did you get this, (Y/n)?” he said, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly.

(Y/n) trembled in fear at his sudden change of attitude. Panic swirled in her chest. He wasn’t like this. This was so rare of him. “I...I was in an accident when I was younger,” she said. And to him, that was enough.

Sebastian moved (Y/n)’s bangs a little to reveal a jagged line from the hairline and led on into a thin straight line. He knew it. But it couldn’t be the same person in his dream. The girl in his dream died. And he never knew her name or anything.

“Sorry for overstepping, (Y/n)” Sebastian said, releasing her limb, realizing how hard he grabbed her. “I’ll be on my way now,” he said as he turned around. (Y/n) thought that she might’ve triggered him, but Sebastian replied, “If you want, come over to my room tomorrow before 10. I’ll be on my way to Sam’s then,” he said before ultimately leaving.

“Night, (Y/n). Sweet dreams.”

#stardew-valley-x-reader #sdv sebastian #stardew valley #sebastian (stardew valley)#sebastian x reader #sebastianxreader #reader insert #female farmer #stardew sebastian

60 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 4 years

Text

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

Cheerful mess was the understated way of putting the current scene. Tonight was the first evening of a long sleepover at the farmhouse. It was a holiday weekend which meant you had unlimited access to Minseok for three whole days.

The two of you had been "together" for about a few weeks but it felt more like a lifetime. You and him fit together like puzzle pieces, like that Greek myth of the origins of people and soulmates. Both of you had walked the earth for years, not even realizing what you could have been missing. You didn't feel complete, necessarily, but… more.

"You're going to run out of battery here soon," Minseok teased.

You were sitting up on your knees clicking picture after picture of your favorite subject. How could you stop when nearly every angle of his face was so fascinating? He looked sharp then soft then older then younger. You wanted to capture every possibility.

"It's not going to die," you said as you checked the focus. "It's still on full battery. You're stuck with this for a while."

"I'll endure it. Only because it's you."

"Are you camera shy, wolf boy?"

Minseok's answer was a low growl. He reached out and pulled you down for a kiss, careful to not crush your camera. Somehow he managed to pry the device from your hand and place it on the floor while keeping you occupied.

"(Y/n)?"

"Hm?"

With soft eyes, he caressed your cheek. His lips were taunt, tension creating the tiniest lines around his pink mouth.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. "What is it?"

"There's… something we need to talk about."

"Okay?" Sitting up all the way, you braced yourself for whatever he was about to expose.

Minseok kept his eyes down, fidgeting with the sheets between his fingers. "I'm sure you've noticed how… protective I've been lately?"

Protective was probably the soft way of putting it. Since you and Minseok officially accepted the bond between the two of you, you'd spent nearly every day up here at the house, soaking all the time with him that you could. It was impossible to ignore the way he shifted closer to you when one of his brothers walked into the room or the subtle growls if they said something cheeky. While it took time to get used to, you'd shrugged it aside, owing it up to his supernatural nature. It had never gotten too much out of hand or uncomfortable for you. Apparently, there was much more to it than a simple instinct.

"The reason I've been like that is because you're my mate."

You snorted. "Yeah, I kind of figured that."

"But not just my mate." He let out an elongated sigh. "My unmarked mate."

You held up a hand, palm facing out. "Okay, hold up. Unmarked? Like… I have to get a tattoo?"

Minseok snickered. "No. There's no ink involved." He sat up. Fingers soft and tender, he traced the outline of your neck and shoulder. "When a wolf finds their mate, they are protective. And… we need a way to tell other wolves that their mate is under that protection and not to… touch them… for a lack of a better explanation. So, we mark our mates. Once that happens, our instincts calm down a bit. Or so I've been told."

"Okay." You clicked your tongue a few times, processing this new information. "You're asking to mark me? Is that it?"

Minseok chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Okay," you said. Nerves were brewing in your stomach. Though the answer seemed obvious once ink was ruled out, you still asked, "What does that entail?"

Scooting closer to you, Minseok kept eye contact. "I have to…." Blush exploded on his cheeks. He scratched the hairline behind his ear.

"To do what?"

"I have to bite you."

"BITE ME!"

"Shshshsh." Minseok pounced on you, covering your mouth as he pinned you to the bed. He cocked his head to the side as if listening for additional noise. Right. Supernatural hearing. The house was full of extraordinary ears. When no one came, he eased off. "It won't hurt. I'd make sure of it."

"But you have to bite hard enough to leave a scar," you said.

Minseok nodded. "I'd… distract you."

You started to imagine what he meant by that. You cleared your throat. "I guess I can go along with that."

Those were the magic words, apparently. He grabbed your face like he did that night downtown and kissed you deeply. A rush of giggles bubbled in your throat. They grew louder and louder until-

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Can you guys keep it down? Its getting annoying!"

Minseok half-groaned, half-sighed. "Jongdae."

"Just let him be," you said, though you were feeling a little embarrassed yourself. "Some people just don't like being around couples."

"You're right." A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips. "But I still hope that he's next. It would help loosen him up."

"Maybe."

"Until then, we'll just wait until the house is empty."

You smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

On the morning of the last day of the holiday weekend, you were a little sad. The nonstop Minseok time was coming to an end. But alas, it was inevitable so you rolled with the punches.

Minseok was already downstairs when you woke up. You freshened up before deciding to join him.

Several of the boys were sitting around the table eating breakfast as they chatted happily. Minseok had a full plate in front of him waiting for you before the others could shovel it down. When he saw you enter the kitchen, he waved you over. You took the empty seat next to him.

"Hungry?" he asked. You nodded. He slid the plate over to you along with eating utensils.

Junmyeon walked in then, a newspaper in his hand. He must have run to town early this morning. Tossing the newspaper down on the table, he sighed.

"What is it?" Sehun asked.

"There was another death on Saturday," Junmyeon announced.

"What? Why are we just hearing about it?" Minseok asked.

"The police kept it quiet. Its just now hitting the newspapers. I got an email last night from the university."

Baekhyun frowned. "Why did you get an email?"

"The hiker was a pre-med professor from the University. The board wanted to prepare the rest of us."

Yixing reached for the newspaper and scanned through the article.

“We need to find this guy and stop him," Chanyeol said worriedly.

Kyungsoo nodded in agreement. “He’s bringing too much attention.”

“The last thing we need is for some vigilante hunter coming into the woods,” Jongin added.

You swallowed, unable to keep eating. The image of a hunter with a gun was making your stomach churn. “That won’t happen, right? Minseok?”

“Everything will be alright.” Minseok reached over and squeezed your hand reassuringly. Rolling his eyes, Jongdae stood up and left the room.

“He just doesn’t like me, does he?” you asked quietly. Though the two of you would joke about Jongdae needing a mate of his own to loosen him up, you couldn’t help but feel it was more personal than that.

“Jongdae takes a long time to warm up to anyone," Junmyeon said. "Don’t stress about it.”

You pursed your lips. “Easy for you to say.”

“Don’t worry, the rest of us like you.” Baekhyun said happily as he munched on a cookie. “Especially if you keep making goodies like this.”

You had gotten a little bored last night while the pack went on a run, so you went through the cabinets and found ingredients to bake a few… dozen cookies. There were approximately three left at this point and you were worried that it might become an outright war for the morsels.

Minseok starred at Yixing, who was lost deep in thought, reading the article over and over again. “Yixing? Is something wrong?”

“This hiker was my professor," he explained. "I’m just worried about what the consequences of another death could be.”

“You sound so morbid,” Sehun complained.

“Campus will be in an uproar tomorrow when we get back,” Minseok commented. To Yixing, he asked, “Do you think they’ll cancel your class?”

Junmyeon answered instead. “No. In the memo we got they said they would combine her classes with others.”

“Seems a bit weird,” Baekhyun said.

Junmyeon shrugged. “It's the option they went with. Yixing, you should be getting an updated schedule and syllabus in a day or so. As for us, we're going to up our presence in the woods. Take shifts running perimeters."

"Is that safe?" you asked. The last thing you wanted was for Minseok to get hurt. Or any of them, really. You were growing attached to the pack as a whole.

"We're supernatural creatures," Minseok smirked. "There's more of us than of him. If anything, its him to be worried about."

You nodded, but your concern didn't ease up. Your own instincts told you this wouldn't be as cut and dry as the pack was making it sound. They may know what they were capable of, but they weren’t invincible. You had to agree with Yixing. There were to be consequences of this new death. But that was the thing about consequences: they could be either good or bad. Only time would tell what they would be.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo supernatural au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo series #The Untamed Universe #Catching Rain

248 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

Text

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Demon in Disguise x Angel Undercover

Summary: Being a demon was boring, particularly in peacetime. For Freed, passing the time consisted of sneaking into nightclubs and forcing men off the moral path. Thankfully, the angel with beautiful wings and almost rigid set of morals was always there to make things interesting.

Notes: This is Day Two of Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Be sure to look at their blog, I'm sure there's lot of other great Fraxus content on there for the event already.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Off The Moral Path

Year: 2025

Location: Paris, France

"Come now, Darling," Freed purred, gently stroking the raven-haired beauty on the cheek. "You know you want to."

To think he'd come to this. Freed Justine – Albion the Slayer, Absolute Shadow, The Nightmares of Angels – resorted to flirting with men in a bar. It was humiliating. He was a soldier, a demonic mage whose power was the stuff of legends, and by rights everyone in the damned club should be bowing for him, on their knees and begging for his mercy. He would have been kind to them, were they giving him the respect he was owed, and perhaps he would have made their night more interesting with a display of his power.

But he couldn't. The war between demons and angels had long since ended, humans had forgotten about the battles and all the people who had been part of it, and as such they didn't know him. To them, Freed was nothing but another human. Better looking of course, but otherwise no different.

Frankly, it was boring.

War between unkillable forces was fun. You didn't have to worry about being hurt, because you couldn't be, and a demon didn't care for guilt. It was simply posturing, and it had allowed Freed to show off the magic that he'd been slowly building from his creation. He was explosively powerful, and he'd sent many of the enemy forces back to heaven time and time again. It was fun seeing them disintegrate as they screamed, but now that was gone.

Technically speaking, he shouldn't have even been in the nightclub at all. Earth was off limits, but he was hardly doing anything too bad. He wasn't poisoning a water system, or luring a man to his death. He was just having a little fun. Nobody could begrudge him a little magically fuelled flirting.

Well, one angel might. But he hadn't arrived yet.

"I dunno," The raven-haired man shrugged, swirling his drink absently.

"I do. You want to do it and you know it," Freed smirked, and his eyes glowed red for a moment. He placed his hand on the mans exposed forearm, and magic flared in his next words. "I'll do it if you will. And you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

A lie, but a fun one.

"You know what," The man said, confidence in his words now. "You're right."

The man was standing up a moment later, walking towards the raised stage with a pole attached to it, removing his shirt. Hm, if the sounds of the cheering at the sight were reflective of the mood, Freed had been right about him having nothing to be ashamed of. It was good guess; Freed really had no idea what a human saw as attractive anymore.

Freed watched from the bar, drinking his wine with a smirk as the man began to gyrate over the pole. Men and women alike cheered, and Freed liked to think that he had done his good deed for the day. Of course, the dancing man might disagree when the spell wore off, but that was hardly a problem.

He'd dispel his magic as the man was dancing. It would be fun to see him crumple.

"The hell are you doing?" A loud rumbling voice came from behind, and Freed smirked.

Right on time.

"What does it look like, my dear," Freed said, not looking towards the angel looming over him. "Exercising my Devil given right to annoy you. Is it working?"

"Take the spell off him," The angel demanded. "Now."

"During his dance. Imagine the embarrassment, it would be debilitatingly humiliating," Freed laughed quietly. "Would he be able to look himself in the mirror? Would he be allowed back out of his home? Would he cry? Rather cruel, aren't you angel?"

"Shut it, devil," The angel growled.

"So rude," Freed tutted while grinning. When a hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, Freed turned to look to the man. "Good evening, Laxus."

It was always disheartening to see Laxus disguised as a human. He was good looking in their terms, with broad shoulders, a thin waist, handsomely rugged features, and a damn cocky smirk when he used it. But Freed always missed seeing his wings. They were long stretching, tinged and scarred by lightning, with feathers so soft that Freed couldn't decide whether he wanted to stroke them or to pluck them out to see the man scream. He was a magnificent beast of an angel – the counterpart to Freed's demon – and very fun to annoy.

"Hypnosis on humans is fucking illegal," Laxus growled.

"Then it's good that I didn't use it," Freed dismissed, placing the wine on the bartop. "I only lowered his inhibitions. He's lost all doubt and regret, and he's simply doing what he wants to do. Hardly a war crime."

"Tell him that when the police come," Laxus murmured, and Freed laughed. Would the man be arrested before he was naked? Freed hoped not; human anatomy always made him chuckle. "You ain't supposed to be on earth. The hell is wrong with you?"

"You're here," Freed retorted, ignoring the question. "Won't you get in trouble too, angel?"

"I'm only here because I knew you were pulling this shit," Laxus whispered harshly, hand on Freed's shoulder tightening. "And I wanted to get you to cut it the hell out before," he jutted his chin up, "they figure out what you're doing."

"But the danger is half the fun," Freed smirked.

Laxus said nothing else, instead surrounding them both with a wave of angelic magic. As was natural for a demon, the overall holiness of the gesture sent a shooting of pain over Freed, but he grit his teeth and allowed the spell to take effect. A moment later, he was teleported to a blank, bland, nothing room nestled in the middle of limbo.

This was always how his little dance with Laxus went. Freed would sneak down to earth, annoy, and torment a human in a way with very few long-lasting consequences so that he could get a fill of fun, Laxus would somehow be informed of what Freed had done and would stop him before any other heavenly figures realised what he was doing, and he would be teleported away. It had happened hundreds of times, and always ended with Laxus yelling at him for his stupidity but never actually doing anything to stop him.

His face would soon be angry, and his wings would be spasming and flickering. Anger was a good look on the man.

But, truly, this dance was getting boring. They were all-powerful beings, opponents by very nature, who had met in the middle of battel and had underwent fights that would be studied for history in years to come. They shouldn't have gotten stuck in a rut. It was almost insulting.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" Freed asked before Laxus could begin shouting.

"What?" The angel asked, taken unaware.

"Well, I understand that your side likes to preach forgiveness and repentance and so on, so perhaps I can understand you trying to stop me the first ten or so times, but we've been doing this for years now," Freed smirked, leaning forward and leaning against a white table. He looked up at Laxus from under his lashes, flirtatious and smirking. "I'm not changing my ways, and you know it. So why not leave me to get killed by your darling overlords?"

Laxus tensed his jaw, grit his teeth, and let his wings shoot out from his back. What a lovely sight. Freed quickly removed his own human disguise, horns cracking from his skull and eyes turning a red and purple swirl.

"Everyone can improve," Laxus retorted. "I think that, given-"

"I've known you for centuries, Laxus, I know when you're parroting that ridiculous heavenly mantra," Freed cut off the argument before it could be made. "I want to know why you, angel supreme Laxus Dreyar, is being ever so kind to me so often."

He said nothing, and Freed grinned.

"May I offer my thoughts, since you don't seem to want to answer," Freed continued. "I think we're more alike than you think. You and I, you see, we're fighters. You can claim pacifism all you want, but I know you loved every moment of engagement. Showing off your power, proving yourself to be an overwhelming force of nature, it was everything you ever wanted. And then it was taken away from you, and you were at a loss of what you could do. Everything was peaceful and there was nobody to do battle with. Nobody to impress. Nobody but me."

"That ain't what happened," Laxus grunted. He walked towards a door Freed assumed would take him back to heaven, and Freed quickly intercepted.

"It's exactly what happened. I'm your opponent, in this little game we've created for ourselves," Freed smirked, took a single step forward so he was in Laxus' space and yet not quite touching him. "It was fun, as games go, but I think we should move past it. Flip the board and do something a little more," he smirked, and raked his claws over Laxus chest before hissing, "tactile."

Laxus' face held an expression Freed was familiar with. He was on the brink of doing something he wanted to do more than anything, but knew it was wrong. A look that, on humans, brought Freed a giddy thrill.

Seeing it on Laxus was euphoria.

The angel swallowed slightly, looking over Freed's face, his claws, his horns and then back to his face again. His eyes were dilated just a little, body tensing and muscles hardening as if he was trying to steel his resolve. He was so close to breaking, and making both of their lives both more pleasurable and much more interesting. He just needed a nudge. Freed was happy to oblige.

"That was the problem with the war, I feel," He purred, voice like silk and seductive. "Place men of unsurmountable power together and make them fight. It fuels passion. We were purpose built to feel strongly about one another. To obsess over one another. To rely on one another," He raised his hand and dug his claws into Laxus' jaw. "What did they think would happen when we could no longer fight? Falling for each other was inevitable."

"I ain't fallen, not for you," Laxus murmured as he leant close to Freed, tenseness giving way. He was even smiling, ever so slightly, and that was all the encouragement that he needed.

"Aren't you?" Freed grinned, stroking Laxus' cheek and loving the restrained mewling that bubbled in the angel's throat.

"No," Laxus murmured, bringing his lips closer to Freed, and his grin was just as unhindered as Freed's.

"Well," Freed purred, pressing into Laxus' chest. "Put your money where your mouth is then."

He closed the gap between them, and two millenniums of tension exploded to life in a slow, tender kiss. The mixture of magics gave their kiss a burning, fizzing sensation that spurred them both on. The contrast of their bodies stung and felt fantastic, addictively peculiar and driving them to kiss harder.

Laxus' wings outstretched behind him, then wrapped around them both. The comforting feathers tingled at Freed's back, and he leant against the man with a smirk as they pulled apart. Laxus was smiling at him, not a lingering sense of doubt in sight, and Freed grinned.

As fun as it would have been to taint an angel, bring him to his knees and make him turn his back on his culture, Freed had truly believed his words. They were fated to be together; it only made sense. Freed had broken countless rules set after the war, and he should have been struck down by lightning or burned at the stake for his crimes. Even with Laxus looking over him, the powers of fate were more powerful, and breaking of the rules came with immediate punishment. He hadn't been killed, despite his flagrant disregard of the rules. There was a reason for that, and he liked to think he'd been saved for Laxus. The fact Laxus had showed no regret, nor no fear about what he had done, seemed to suggest Laxus agreed with the sentiment.

Now, Freed was in a new game, a much more fun one. A game where it wasn't simply a demon fighting against an angel. No, this game had only one side. A flirtatious demon with an abhorrence for boredom, and his darling, virtuous fallen angel. Who would dare oppose them?

Le Parisien – 02.11.2025

Une Célébrité Populaire Prise Dans Le Scandale De La Nudité En Public.

Hier soir, le chanteur et danseur populaire Grey Fullbuster a été arrêté à Paris. Les rapports ont affirmé que, dans une démonstration de confiance ivre, il est monté au sommet d'une scène dans la discothèque Devil's Door, et a commencé à enlever tous ses vêtements et à danser contre un poteau. Les réactions à la situation vont du dégoût moral au plaisir divertissant. Dans une déclaration faite par le manager du chanteur, Fullbuster a affirmé que "Le diable m'a fait le faire".

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Modern AU #Angels and Demons AU #Word Count: 2.2k

12 notes · View notes

letsperaltiago · 3 years

Text

as long as you're with me it's always the time of the year

🌟 HAPPY 6TH OF DECEMBER: DOOR ONE 🌟

Welcome to door one of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s first door is a... pre-relationship Peraltiago Christmas oneshot! ♥️ And I bet you have this series overall “theme” figured out now 😙If not then I guess you’ll have to tune back in in another six days! Until then I hope you can enjoy this first fic in the Christmas calendar/oneshot series!

Summary: The only thing Jake likes about the holidays is the Nine-Nine's annual Christmas party. This year, perhaps, he will come to prefer Amy's misfortune and company. Takes place somewhere between S02 E09: The Roadtrip and S2 E011:The stakeout.

Rating: G Words: 6k

Read on AO3 here

🎁⬇️OPEN DOOR ONE HERE ⬇️🎁

The smell of pine trees, cinnamon and every other Christmas spice imaginable hangs over the precinct when Jake walks in on his day off. Normally he’d never set a foot near work on one of his holy days off, but today is the precinct’s annual Christmas party, and that he of course isn’t stupid enough to miss. Who would want to miss out on happenings like Boyle bringing some unknown Christmas-snack no one would ever want; drunk-Amy making an appearance; Gina hustling secret Santa gifts from young beat cops? Not Jake, that’s for sure.

This year’s party is being held on the third floor, the Special Victims Unit’s floor, and the second the elevator doors open before him Jake is met by the loud buzz made up of Christmas music, and people talking and laughing. Colors are everywhere; from the different, ugly shirts and Christmas sweaters people are wearing to the familiar, cliché Christmas decorations which have probably been reused for the past twenty Christmas parties. It’s horribly perfect, Jake thinks. Perhaps he hates the holidays, yes, but he does love the messy parties they bring along.

“Jakey! Welcome!”

The detective has just barely stepped out of the elevator, onto festive grounds, when Charles appears right before him, holding two mugs of what appears to be some hot liquid. Jake is by no means very religious although he still prays to higher powers that said hot liquid is not that mulled Norwegian fish-wine his friend brought last year. Charles hands over one of the mugs and Jake is seriously afraid to look or, potentially even more hazardous, breathe in the toasty steam rising from it.

“Hey, bud. What’s that?”

“Mulled wine!” Charles takes a sip of his own mug meanwhile Jake can’t stop eyeing him, suspiciously so, because if there is one thing Jake doesn’t trust his best friend with then it’s primarily and definitely anything food and drink-related.

“Actual mulled wine or fish-wine?”

There is no getting around the fact that Charles is obviously hurt by the lack of trust his best friend is showing, when the little man’s face falls deadpan. “It happened once , Jake. One time.”

They start walking towards the briefing room, one much bigger than the one on their floor, where the life of the party is.

“I threw up for two days straight after last time - just saying, bud!”

Jake dares to smell the beverage and it does actually smell like actual mulled wine, so he hesitantly takes a sip, just in case it turns out he’s been betrayed. Alas the flavor tells him the liquid is indeed normal mulled wine, which makes this yet another cracked case for Peralta.

Inside the briefing room that is crowded with people, both some he knows and a lot that he doesn’t, a Christmas tree and all kinds of snacks and drinks, it’s hard to tell who is from what department and honestly? Jake doesn’t care. As long as people seem to be a good time and are willing to laugh at his hilarious charms then he’s down to clown. Or down to Santa - whatever Christmas-saying is more suitable.

“Has Gina scored herself some gifts yet? And how many drinks is Santiago at?”

Jake awaits an answer while his friend pours himself some more of the warm wine, and puts the time to good use by removing his leather jacket before hanging it on a random chair nearby. The party will be hot, literally, he figures.

“Hmm, last time I saw Gina she was up to two already…”

“Noice,” Jake nods in approval, mentally noting to check in with his friend later. This has to be the year she beats her record of eights gifts in one evening.

“... And Amy was up to one.”

“Not good enough.”

“We’ve only been here for an hour, Jake.”

Jake pauses. With the winter sun setting so early, he thought he’d missed out on hours of partying when in reality Boyle is right: it’s just barely 6.30 and he’s missed out on so little.

“Fair. I’ll give her that. Where is she anyway?”

Boyle turns just in time to see his friend scouting the room in hopes of finding his partner.

“Someone’s eager to hang out with Amy.” Just as his facial expression, rocking cocking eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Charles’ voice is laced with teasing tones. It’s no secret that Jake commiting to his feelings and acting on them, especially now that both him and Amy are single (and totally into each other, if you ask Charles) is at the top of the older detective’s wishlist - no matter how creepy it is.

“Shut up. I have a girlfriend.” Images of Sophia flash before him, the face she made when he promised her he didn’t like Amy anymore, and deep down Jake feels guilty. The feeling is quickly pushed aside though; he’s done nothing wrong and will do nothing wrong. He’s with Sophia - not Amy. “I just need to laugh at someone and Amy just so happens to be the perfect candidate.”

“Just like she’s perfect in every other way?”

“Boyle!” Jake lightly punches his friend on the arm and it almost causes Charles to spill the hot beverage. Just barely, he manages to restore the liquids balance and keep it in the cup.

“Hey! You almost made me drop my glühwein !” Leave it to Charles to pronounce the foreign word perfectly , and leave it to Jake to, as per usual, roll his eyes at it.

“Anyways, are you going to tell me where Amy is or not?”

The two friends stand back, facing the crowd in an attempt to comb through it, however everyone’s outfits seem so alike - ugly and colourful - and so it quickly hits them just how pointless the mission is.

“I don’t know about know, but last time I saw her she was by the women’s bathroom talking to Rosa. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Hm, okay,” Jake mumbles. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna say hi.”

“Sure you do.”

Quickly decoding the way his words are drenched in a certain teasing tone, Jake doesn’t even need to look at his friend to know there’s a knowing smirk plastered across his face. There’s no doubt: it’s easier for him to just walk away without looking back - so he does.

Boyle is a fool if he thinks he’s got a thing for Amy - that ship has long sailed. In the past, yes, he did have feelings for Amy… But that was before. Before Teddy and Sophia; before realising they were better off as friends; before, before, before. Sure, he’d felt something flare up inside of him that night at the inn with Teddy and Sophia when it was suddenly revealed that Amy used to like him, perhaps still did? He’ll admit that. However that entire trip was crazy, all kinds of emotions on display, and anything that said and/or happened there should be taken with a pinch of salt. Yes, he used to like Amy, ‘used to’ being the keyphrase. Now he was happy with Sophia and couldn't possibly have feelings for Amy. At least not romantic feelings, no. Friendly feelings, the sensation of being happy when around her? Sure. Now, months after said roadtrip to hell, things were back to normal: they were partners and friends, without any weirdness or doubt about the fact. That was it and the way it would stay, no matter what anyone said - especially Charles.

Suddenly he spots her, across the room in a corner with a cup in hand, talking to someone on the phone. The iconic red cup causes a smile to grow on Jake’s face as he is granted an early Christmas wish: drunk-Amy is going to make an appearance tonight. He appreciates all sides of Amy, although drunk-Amy is extra fun - especially ever since Gina let him in on the Santiago-drunkenness scale.

It takes her a second to pick up on his approach, but the second she sees him he receives a smile in return. Her hair is loose and shiny as alway. For tonight’s occasion it has a silvery head band holding it in place. To no one’s surprise, even less Jake’s, she’s wearing what he recognizes as her famous Santiago-dress pants. Although the blazer and usually colored shit has been replaced with a neatly ironed white shirt. The silver headband along with the white shirt? Of course Amy would go for an angel-look instead of a tacky red Santa or a green elf like many of their colleagues. Then again: white does look good really good on her, Jake admits to himself, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Charles’ words were stuck on repeat in his mind then maybe he would’ve told her. A nice, friendly compliment like… “You look pretty” or whatever other nice, not inappropriate thing he could say. It’s easier to say nothing at all, he figures.

The crowd around him is loud but he can hear her talking as he closes in on her. He waves to her and she half-mindedly waves back clearly focused on the conversation she’s in the midst of.

“Okay, yeah…”

He stops next to her and sips on his drink while she finishes up.

“We’ll go meet Santa on Sunday then… Yeah, I’ll meet you there. Bye.”

Although he hates to admit it, Jake is happy to see her hang up. It means she can switch her attention to him.

“Tinder date?” He asks.

She looks up, from putting her phone away, with what Jake considers the iconic ‘ you’re an idiot’-grimace, as a consequence reminding him of the one thing he has a hard time admitting - even to himself: she looks really cute doing just that and he likes that he’s the one person that can bring it out of her.

“Ha. Ha.” Her fake laugh is drier than the failed Christmas cookies she brought last year. “What do you think I do on Tinder-dates?”

“Meet Santa - apparently.”

It’s clear as day that the young man takes immense pleasure in the easygoing banter, the special kind he can only have with Amy, and even though his mouth says and shows one thing then his shining eyes definitely don’t agree. Infatuation is the word although he would never dare to call himself out on it. That was Charles’ job, but luckily no one, to Jake’s advantage, would ever believe the always way too excited little man.

“I can’t believe how funny you are, Peralta,” Amy retorts, voice stuck in the same still flat tone that tries to make believe she isn’t very amused and delighted by the fact that Jake located her just to tease her. It’s a special kind of attention, one she at times has dreaded but with time slowly and surely has come to like - a lot. Even though she pretends not to.

“I can’t believe you go on Tinder-dates, Santiago.”

“I never said I did? You did.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow in objection.

“Right, right… Forgot you used to have feelings for me, which means you must’ve cut off all dating in hopes of me coming around one day.”

In all honesty Jake can’t, for the life of him, figure out why he says what he does sometimes. Although, apparently, there must be somewhat truth to it considering how Amy feels her palms heat up against her cold drink, blood rushing to her face where it quickly takes apparent form as a rosy color tinting the apples of her cheeks. Jake, even though it’s so very tempting, tries not to think any of it. Replaying in his mind is the look of confusion and pain on Amy’s face when it was brought up that Amy used to like him. Perhaps it was true but if bringing it up, in a context that wasn’t just for fun and banter, would cause Amy the same troubled feelings from back at the Maple Drip Inn, then it definitely wasn’t worth bringing up again. He shouldn't have said that. Amy didn’t have feelings for him anymore - chapter closed.

“Sorry. Bad joke.”

“It’s fine.” She tries to chuckle it off but he knows a genuine Amy-laugh and this isn’t it.

“Anyways,” Jake takes another sip of his drink leaving the word hanging in the air for a few seconds, aspiring for a change of subject, in case his partner wants to take advantage. She doesn’t though. His turn, he figures. “If not a mystery man, then who was it?”

She shakes her head smiling at his persistence. “It was my brother Anthony. Him, Christian and I are taking my nephews and nieces to meet Santa.”

“Wow, all five hundred of them?”

Amy has to laugh at this, a genuine laugh this time, one with no snarky comment because he’s kind of right: her family is huge and she appreciates him taking note of it even though the number is horribly wrong.

“Almost… Just the ten of them.”

A shared chuckle between the two settles a nice and comfortable atmosphere around the two; one where the rest of the room disappears into the background and it’s just the two of them laughing and poking at each other as if there’s no half-awkward and delicate taboo to dance around.

Sadly the moment isn’t meant to last for much longer. Jake is halfway into one of his crazy stories, making Amy laugh louder and louder with every sip of her first drink. Out of nowhere, a heavy figure, certainly bigger than Amy’s, comes tumbling into her from the side and it to no one’s surprise results in her drink flying out of her hands, splashing all over her. Amy lets out a whelp, time stands still, everything seems to go silent as everyone around Amy, Jake included, stares in horror at the sudden mess.

Her drink, an unknown clear liquid mixed with melting ice, meets her previously so white and crisp shirt immediately soaking it - there’s no saving it.

“Oh, shit.” The stutter comes from the young man of the hour, someone Jake quickly recognizes at the loud and ruthless - and that’s coming from Jake - beat cop, Officer Miller. Jake finally snaps out of his daze, surprise and disbelief having him thrown completely off track. It’s then he really notices the look of horror on his partner’s half-drenched, very disappointed face, and even though he’s not to blame and it’s barely been ten seconds since the moment of collision, he wishes he’d reacted sooner.

“Oh my gosh,” Amy spits out, the sad remains of her drink plastered to her lower face and clothes.

“Fuck,” Miller adds another stutter to the list of pointless doings, right amidst the act of just standing there completely incapable of anything at all. From his point of view, Jake is witnessing the hopelessness play out before him - Amy frozen, in shock, and Miller simply staring in disbelief at the consequences of his own acts - when he suddenly notices how the young officer’s eyes shamelessly wander, from where they were looking at Amy’s face, downwards. Why whould he-

Jake’s eyes trail along, ingeniously, but quickly fly back to where they were looking at the offender - this time with rage in them. Miller’s eyes are still gawking at one specific area on Amy: her torso where her previously nice, white shirt - one Jake can picture Amy spending hours ironing and being excited to wear - is now very much see-through.

“Hey, what the hell, man!”

Jake is by no means a violent person, nevertheless he can’t contain himself. Not when Amy is right before him looking like a lost puppy. He lightly punches the other man’s shoulder.

“What the hell, yourself! Don’t touch me!” Miller, having finally snapped out of his perverted daydream, defends himself and takes a threatening step towards Jake.

“Jake, it’s okay-” Just like all the seminars have taught her, Amy tries to interrupt the escalating conflict; one that’s somehow partly her fault but at the same time not at all. However, feeling very exposed, starting to feel anxious, she doesn’t force anything. Left to do is nothing but to stand back and watch Jake stand his ground - even when the younger but notably taller man steps up to him.

“How about you have some decency and apologize to my partner?”

Jake is enraged, obviously by the drink-incident itself, but mostly by the young officer’s disrespectful reaction that followed suit. On the occasion that he wouldn’t much rather use his energy on listening to and helping Amy then maybe, just maybe, he would’ve engaged further. Inside his head he counts down from ten, still glaring with fiery eyes at Miller, and not moving before he’s reached zero. As if on cue Amy breaks the silence.

“Jake… Let it go. It was an accident.”

She’s too good for her own self, he thinks. Her voice is shaky, not disturbingly so but just enough to get Jake to turn around, and his reasoning is confirmed: his energy and time is better spent helping her, however he can. The crowd around them has once again started buzzing, as if nothing ever happened, and the only thing Jake has eyes for is Amy and the distressing way in which she has her arms crossed before her in an attempt to hide herself. Her body’s posture obviously translates to her facial features, the anxiety starting to show, so of course Jake wastes no time; without further hesitation, he pulls off his iconic blue hoodie and makes sure to help it onto her, shielding her from the rest of the party. Once in a while he throws a glance at her face, and he can tell the very second it hits her that he must’ve seen it too since he knows what’s going on.

“Don’t worry about it. Except for that idiot, no one saw anything. Don’t think about it… Okay?” He reassures her, hopefully putting her mind at ease, and makes sure to catch her eyes before continuing. Hopefully she believes him.

“Thank you,” she whispers as they stand face to face while Jake makes sure his hoodie is covering her properly. He wants to smile, be the good in her dreadful situation, but still feeling too pissed he can only muster a nod before he wraps a protective arm around her shoulder. “Come with me, Amy. Lets go fix this.” It’s his way of telling her to come with him, that she can trust him and that he’ll take care of it. He can feel her follow him, thus guiding her to the elevator.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Still in a somewhat trance-like state, Amy lets Jake guide her, arm safely around her shoulder and small-talking to keep her calm, down the dimly lit hall of the basement and into the Nine-Nine’s men’s locker room. Her soaked shirt has slowly started soaking through Jake’s hoodie, the wet tips of Amy’s hair dripping onto it as well, and there’s a very good reason Jake has brought her where he has. He doesn’t waste a second and gently sits her down on the bench in the middle of the many lockers.

“Just sit tight, Ames. I’m going to fix this.”

She nods instead of breaking her silence, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the embarrassing situation which has unfortunately triggered an anxious part of her that she most of the time can keep in check. Alas this situation was too much, understandably so, and all she has to cling onto is her partner rummaging rather aimlessly through what she hopes is his locker. Must be; the inside of the door is covered in a Die Hard poster, and Amy feels herself smile a bit at the sight. That is so very Jake Peralta. Even more so when, during the intense search, all kinds of random items accidently fall out of the locker. Everything from packs of gum and old receipts to DVDs and lonely socks.

“Aha! Knew I had it in here!”

Jake pulls a chequered item from the depths of his - very messy, Amy can’t help but shudder - locker before turning to her with a wide, proud smile that lets her know: mission accomplished. He puts a red flannel on display for her and his smile never falters. “On top of being clean and warm it’s also red. Very christmassy, Santiago.”

“Have you just… always had that in there?”

“Probably since I transferred here,” Jake chuckles as he throws all the things that fell out during his search for the flannel back into the chaos of the locker. “Red is not my best color, so I just keep it in there in case I need a change of clothes…” he trails off as if he’s considering his next move, then his head whips around to look at her. “... Or, like, in case my best friend is in trouble. Might not be up to Santiago-standards but I promise it isn’t gross or anything.”

Amy can’t fight it as tiny butterflies break free in her stomach at the sight of her caring partner, someone she could potentially see as more but alas she’ll never say out loud, send her that small, mischievous yet shy smile of his. Instead of saying anything, too baffled to say anything coherent, her eyes will secretly sparkle and heart do a double take. A joke can perhaps do the job, she thinks, hating how Jake-like she’s become over the years.

“Best friend? I don’t see Boyle in here.”

“What a silly thing to say, Santiago.” Having stuffed all of his randomness back into the locker, he turns back to look at her. “You know very well that you’re my best friend, too.”

Silence, more intense than their usual comfortable ones, fall over them as their eyes stay in touch. It’s as if someone’s supposed to say something, supposed to confess, but nothing of that nature presents itself. Instead Jake clears his throat.

“Now take your wet shirt off and put this on.” He hands her the flannel and for a second their eyes lock again. She takes it from him and keeps their eyes locked, for just a second too long as if she’s trying to communicate through the stare. A tension, one made of something unspoken, once again connects them. Too bad Jake’s quick to divert the situation by clearing his throat, she think, even though she also knows he’s right.

“Uhm, so yeah… Put that on and I’ll wait outside. There’s another hoodie in my locker, uhm on top, if you’re still cold.”

“T-thanks, Jake.”

A small smile is sent her way before he disappears out into the hall and closes the door, allowing Amy to let out a deep breath. Damn Jake Peralta for being so amazing.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

“Tadaaa.”

Jake’s head flies up, from where he was looking down at his phone, to witness a sight he definitely shouldn’t be loving as much as the butterflies in his stomach tell him he certainly does. There’s apparently something about Amy Santiago in his flannel and hoodie that does something to him; sweaty palms, speeding heartbeat and all that jazz.

“How do I look?”

Beautiful. He thinks but doesn’t say it out loud. There’s a teasing glint in his partner’s eyes, one he wants to fall and dive right into so badly, but he’s too aware to give into it. Amy does a pageant twirl and it couldn’t be timed any better, Jake thinks: it’s the perfect occasion for him to throw in a joke and break the spell that he seems to be under.

“Stunning,” he jokes and prays to some higher power that it’s enough to drench them in that never-that-serious, goofy energy they seem to be all about, even after the most serious and intense moments. “Like looking at myself in the mirror.”

She scrunches her nose and smiles, a face she always makes when he says something funny, and Jake doesn’t complain. “Ouch.” She says, pretend-hurt.

“Hey! I’m very handsome, thank you very much…”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles, genuinely as only he can, and Amy wants to thank him for so much more than just tonight. She wants to thank him for always being on her side, always making her feel good in every situation imaginable, even the bad ones, and she wants to thank him for truly being her best friend. That would come off as a very emotionally loaded confession though, so instead she bites her lip.

“Anyways… I think I’m gonna head home. I’m not really feeling like going back there.” She confesses.

All at once the light and cheery Amy, the Amy that jokes and rolls her eyes at him, seems to be switched off and once again replaced by the hesitant Amy he rarely sees. The few times he has witnessed said hesitant and insecure Amy, without hesitation or questions, he feels a somewhat irrational need to help her, take care of the thorn in her side, whatever that might be. Although now, with a girlfriend, one that isn’t Amy, weighing down on his conscience, he isn’t quite sure of how to act. The thought of her sitting at home all alone while he and everyone at the Nine-Nine parties doesn’t fall on fertile ground. No way he’s just letting her walk out.

“I’ll head upstairs with you and grab my coat, say goodbye to the squad, and then I’ll be off before I can embarrass myself again.”

“Ames!”

Barely turned on her heels, Jake is significantly faster and manages to block her way to the elevator. In the depth of his brown eyes Amy, surprised to say the least, can see something unravelling. She’s frozen on the spot where he cut her off.

“Jake?”

“Stay? We can have a fun night without going back up to the party.” He flashes a shy smile that reminds her of the kind she and her brothers always used to flash at their mother whenever they knew they were bargaining for an unreasonable cause. Much like that Jake Peralta is indeed a child disguised as a grown man.

“Stay?” There’s that stupid cute frown of hers again, he thinks and he actually isn’t quite sure of the answer. Jake had a bad case of blurting out ideas before being fully sure of what said idea fully was, and this was no exception. All he knew was that Amy couldn’t leave to be alone; he couldn’t have her spend the night doing nothing.

“Uh- I… That’s not what I meant.” It kind of actually was, but he can’t force her to stay if she wants to go, which genuinely seems to be her preferred plan. “Let me follow you home - at least.” Nice save, he thinks to himself.

Her frown slowly melts away like snow on a spring day and, if he isn’t completely delusional, Jake can see a small smile rise on her lips instead and his new idea is actually a good one.

“I would lov-” her voice hitches in her throat when she accidently looks right back into her partner's eyes, momentarily thrown off track, but in true Santiago-style she makes a quick comeback. Keeps the feelings abay and packed away like a pro. “That would be nice, Jake. Thank you”.

“Cool cool cool.” Skin against skin can be heard rubbing against each other, an unusual sound, and it confuses Amy for a second until she notices that Jake’s palms are rubbing against each other. A nervous mannerism on his part that has Amy wonder why . Not for too long though. Jake is quick to save himself.

“Let me go grab our things upstairs. We can meet on the first floor. I’ll tell everyone you feel sick.”

“Thanks, Jake. My coat is-”

“Navy blue, gold buttons and black handbag. Got it.”

So far from a question as could be, a sentence that is more matter of factly than most things Jake says, Amy can only go silent and nod in agreement. The man is very right, after all and she feels fuzzy at how seamlessly it fell from his lips. They enter the elevator in a comfortable silence and after having stepped off on the first floor, Amy can only smile to herself as she sees the elevator doors close between her and what is probably the best partner in the world. Best friend, she corrects herself, reminiscing about Jake’s words from down in the locker room.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Snow crunches under their feet, the white powder covering every street in Brooklyn, and tonight the otherwise hectic city looks abnormally peaceful. Amidst the winter wonderland, two figures make their way through the drizzling snowfall, both imagining that this is the way things, perhaps, could and should be. Alone, together the two of them, in the world.

Turns out that focusing on the story Amy is currently telling is, even though very interesting, very hard when snowflakes caught in her hair makes it look all glittery and pretty. Also soft, he thinks, and he hates that he wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. Maybe as they were snuggled up on their couch, under blankets, as they watched those stupid Christas movies that he knows she loves. This trail of thoughts is a dangerous one, he’s aware. Luckily Amy herself comes to his rescue, her laughter shattering whatever parallel universe his mind was forming. Of course he laughs along even though he can safely say that he doesn’t know what he’s laughing at. Alone the sound of her laugh is enough to make him want to join. She’s contagious like that - in every way imaginable.

“Hey, Jake?”

She stops and him likewise. “Yeah?”

He turns around to catch her looking longingly at the building they’re currently in front of; a nicely decorated little café. “This place has the best cocoa. Wanna get some? My treat - now that you’re missing out on the party because of me.” She looks back at her partner for some kind of approval, shyly tugging her hair behind her ears in the process and there’s no way Jake can say no - even if he wanted to. The light coming from the café creates an aura-like effect around her figure and Jake swears to himself that she’s an actual angel.

“Sounds good. Mostly because you’re paying,” he manages to snap out of his daydream just in time to come off as nonchalant, teasing, and the two enter the warmth of the café. Inside it’s buzzing with families and couples celebrating the season in each other’s company, and Jake briefly wonders if that will ever be him sitting with a toddler in his lap, allowing it to taste its first hot cocoa as him and the mother witness it with wide smiles on their faces? And with who? Sophia, maybe? Or maybe- no. Definitely can’t go there.

“Two hot dark chocolate with marshmallows, please.”

“Dark?” Jake frowns suddenly back in present time where Amy has made it her task to order their drinks.

“Yeah, they have different kinds but the dark is the best. Trust me.”

“With my life.”

They share a smile and to everyone else in that room, or at least the ones that care enough to pay attention, they could be a couple - foolishly into each other. Before they know it they’re back outside in the cold, although they quickly forget as their respective cups of cocoa warms their hands, and soon after reach Amy’s apartment building. It feels like forever since they left the precinct, when actually, Jake notices when he checks his phone, it’s only been about an hour. Darkness does that to his already questionable sense of time.

His deed is done, he knows; Amy is home safe, and he can head back to the precinct and party with a bunch of people he doesn’t really care about. Or at least cares just a bit less about than Amy. Suddenly the urge to party, act like an idiot and get drunk surely doesn’t sound tempting - at all. Maybe it’s the few hours he’s spent hanging out alone with Amy; perhaps it’s the taste of dark hot cocoa stuck on his tongue, the one he’d moaned about “indeed being the best he’d ever had” just minutes ago… He can’t figure it out but something from within the last two hours has him hating the thought of being anywhere else but here with Amy. If he asked her to hang out outside in the snow, he would.

“So... “ Amy breaks the silence. “Thanks for walking me home… And the shirt and hoodie.You’ll have it back, washed and everything, tomorrow. Promise.”

Consistent as always, Jake thinks and smiles with amusement radiating from his eyes. “Yeah, I’m really going to need that back asap. It’s not like I have the exact same outfit, like times ten, at home… Like some cartoon animal.”

She laughs, throwing her head back and Jake feels the snow beneath him melt.

“Good to know.” She straightens back up, arms crossed to keep her warm, even though Jake is certain her smile must radiate enough warmth to keep them both warm.

“No worries.”

Silence swallows them and all there is to be heard is the sound of the forever and always buzzing Brooklyn; cars, people yelling, jingle bells, dogs barking and everything that makes Brooklyn oh so very Brooklyn.

“Sooo…” Amy shuffles on the spot nervously creating small patterns in the before solid snow. “Are headed back to the party? I bet Charles misses you.”

They share a chuckle, both well-knowing she isn’t joking.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right but... “ He hesitates to say it, nervously biting his lip as the hands in his pocket’s shuffle around for nothing at all. “I don’t think I’m gonna head back. I’m just gonna head home. Everyone’s probably all buzzed by now and I don’t think I’m up for the challenge of catching up.”

“Oh… I- uhm-”

The shuffling only grows worse and it’s as if the young woman can’t find peace, bit by bit aggravating the guilt she’s suddenly feeling - a guilt he’d never intended her to feel. “Jake, I’m so sorry if you felt like you had to skip the party to follow me home. You should've just stayed behind and had fun with everyone. I would’ve been just fin-”

“Ames.” He gently grabs her by the upper arms, stopping her from spiralling completely. “Shut up.” He makes sure to smile when he says it. “I’ve had way more fun hanging out with you than I would’ve with those bazillion strangers back at the precinct.”

He can feel her shoulders drop, relaxing, before she flashes back a smile. A snowflake lands on the very tip of her nose and Jake smiles even wider. Little does she know why. “First of all: bazillion is not a real number. Second of all: if it was then I don’t think that many people work at our precinct,” she argues with a glimt in her eye that matches the snowflakes on her face.

“How can you know if bazilion is not an actual number? A bazillion might be like.. 85?” He tilts his head in that challenging way he always does when he knows he’s got a point.

Silence.

“You might be one of the Nine-Nine’s best detectives but, my God,I swear sometimes you’re so stupid,” she finishes with an affectionate chuckles.

“No doubt.”

They both laugh it off and it’s so them, they both can’t help but think.

“Anyways… Feel free to say no, but wanna come up? We can finish our cocoas and watch a Christmas movie, maybe?”

There’s nothing he’d rather do. Without a doubt.

“I would like that.”

“Okay then,” she agrees and unlocks the door to her building. “I’m not watching ‘Die Hard’ though.”

“Aw, come on, Ames!” he whines.

“It’s not a Christmas movie and if you try to convince me otherwise, then I will prove you wrong. I have a list of arguments saved on my phone - solely for this very occasion.”

“Challenge accepted!”

They end up watching ‘Home Alone’ instead, huddled up on Amy’s couch with each their blanket and hot cocoa, a friendly distance between them, of course, and if you were to ask them, they both had the best Christmas party-evening. They laugh their way through the movie and each other’s company, no complications in sight, and how they both wish, deep down, that everyday could be like this.

The end.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

44 notes · View notes