#At least both this time (?) and in the masquerade event (I complained about it before) Jamil wasn't the one choosing the clothes he wore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 2 months ago

Text

chancer- o.piastri

Day 31 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Can he figure out who you are at the masquerade ball before you leave forever?

a/n: thank you everyone for reading these stories over the last month! this has been so fun and i've loved getting to write everyday!

ps, these were the costumes i had in mind (plus random masquerade masks):

you: oscar:

(both from pinterest!)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar knew he wasn’t the first person anyone would choose to go to a party with. He was awkward, quiet, unknown, and uninterested in getting to know new people. He had his friend group; Logan, Lando, Alex, Charles, George, Daniel, Pierre, Arthur, Liam, and himself. He was happy just talking with his friends. He wasn’t looking for more, and he didn’t want to entertain small talk more than he already had to with his job.

“What if you meet someone there?” Alex had wondered out loud, trying to persuade him to go. He was the only girlfriend-less guy in the group. Alex knew he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. He knew, because every single week one of their girlfriends would text him about ‘a friend that was really interested’ and every time he’d say no. He wasn’t looking for a hook-up (mostly because he didn’t believe in hook-up culture, not being into having sex with someone without knowing them), and he didn’t want to lead someone on. Objectively, yes, he knew he was an attractive man. He was a fucking racecar driver who was paid to take care of his body. He was paid to model clothes and go to nice events. He was paid to drive a fast car, on track and off it. Could he probably put more effort into his look? Absolutely. He didn’t even own a hairbrush, and he wasn’t going to start anytime soon.

Yet there he stood, pirate costume on (complete with a masquerade mask, as to keep with the theme of the party), walking into the biggest house he’d seen in a while, with a bubbly sense of anxiety in his stomach. Logan was walking beside him, talking to Liam about something or other.

“You’re nervous,” Arthur teased. Oscar rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to be here,” he sighed as he got handed a drink.

“Why not? Have a bit of fun!”

“Fun to you, is drinking and making out with your girlfriend in the corner of a party. Fun for me, is going home and sleeping,” Oscar took a swig o f his drink, it burned as it went down his throat.

“We should’ve invited Hattie instead,” he scoffed. Hattie and Arthur had become friends during Oscar’s overlapping time in F2 with Arthur. Hattie was always the more outgoing sibling, and Oscar wouldn’t have blamed them for inviting her instead of him. He could’ve at least gone home and slept.

“Oscar!” Fernando cheered, resting an arm over his shoulders. “You came!”

Ah, this was Fernando’s party. Of course.

“Of course I did,” he smiled. Fernando had always been kind to him, especially in his time in Alpine.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” he whispered. “It’s a girl…” Oscar rolled his eyes. “Is everyone trying to set me up with someone tonight?”

“Maybe, I know I am,” he laughed. “Follow me.”

Oscar dutifully followed behind Fernando, being brought further into the party. It was going to be impossible to find any of his friends again, so he sent the group chat a quick text to meet him at the front door in 1 hour, as that would be when he would be leaving. He was met with sad and angry emojis, but he didn’t care. The host had seen him, and he had a weekend's worth of sleep to get.

“This is-” Fernando was too quiet to be heard over all the shouting and singing. But in front of both of them stood you. You were dressed as a mermaid. What a pair you two made.

Oscar’s mouth literally fell open. You were gorgeous, the costume showing a great deal of skin and he was not complaining. What really drew him in was the bright smile on your lips as Fernando spoke (he had tuned everything else out) and the way you nodded along.

“So, I’m sure you’ll get acquainted!” Fernando announced just in time for Oscar to close his jaw and stop drooling. Then your attention turned on him.

“I think him telling me who you are defeats the purpose of the masks, right?” you chuckled. He chuckled.

He was a goner.

“You’re right,” he smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“I know,” you bit your lip, smiling brightly. “He told me, remember?”

He internally kicked himself. “Of course, yeah. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” you shouted over the music. “It’s a little loud in here, want to go somewhere quieter?”

He nodded. “Yeah!”

You took his hand and led him out to the garden, which was still full of drunk people. You brought him further, him following diligently. You brought him to the edge of the forest at the back of the house. “You trust me?”

He nodded, trusting you implicitly. You led him further, into the forest, until you made it to a treehouse.

You helped him up (despite being in a skirt), and there you two sat for a moment, just enjoying the quiet.

“What do you like to do?” you asked, out of the blue.

“I like to drive-”

“Other than of driving,” you giggled.

He smiled. “Well, I like to sleep, I like to play video games, I like watching movies, I like baking-”

“Baking?” you questioned.

“Yeah, baking,” he nodded.

You looked at him sceptically. “Explain.”

He chuckled. “Well, my mum and my grandma used to make me sit with them in the kitchen to learn how to bake, and when I was a kid, I fucking hated it. Now that I’m older, I love it. It’s so relaxing.”

“You learn something new everyday,” you smiled.

“What about you?”

“Well, I like to read, I like to cook, I like hanging out with my friends and family, I like writing-”

“What do you write about?” he asked.

You smiled cheekily, he could see the way your eyes crinkled, just slightly. It made him smile.

“You chancer, I don’t know if I can tell a random stranger that…” you shook your head. “I’ll need to get to know you better.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

So, there you two sat, talking about your lives, enjoying each other's company, and just having fun. The hour he was supposed to spend had long since passed, and he had silenced his phone the second you had started talking about your life. He didn’t see the messages from his friends about leaving, he didn’t see the missed calls from them, wondering if he was alright. He didn’t want to either.

You ended up with your head on his shoulder as the topic of love somehow came up.

“Have you ever been in love?” you asked, curious about his experience.

“I don’t think so,” he answered, mildly confused.

“So, no then.”

He chuckled. “No, then. You?”

You shook your head. “Nope. But I do love racing.”

“You race?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “MotoGP.”

“That’s awesome,” he praised.

You looked into his eyes, the majority of his face covered by the mask. “I want to kiss you right now,” you admitted, your voice low.

He gulped. “I want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled cheekily again. “What’s stopping you?”

And that was that. He kissed you.

His hands found space on your hips and held you against him, feeling the sparks between you two like a fuckign fire. He wanted so much more than just one kiss. Your lips against his was like the perfect symphony, your hands on his body the greatest touch, his hands on your skin like the softest connection.

“Oscar,” you moaned against his lips as he bit down on your bottom lip, his tongue fighting yours.

The loud bang of fireworks pulled you both apart. You both gasped, pulled away abruptly, then laughed as your adrenaline calmed down.

“That was…” he started.

“Wow,” you finished.

He chuckled. “Wow,” he agreed.

You checked your phone, wondering the time. “Shit!” you cursed. “I have to go, it was awesome meeting you, my friends-”

“Can I get your number?” he asked, rushing after you.

“I think that defeats the purpose of the night Oscar,” you chuckled.

“I-I don’t even know your name!” he stressed. He needed to see you again. “I want to see you again.”

You ran ahead of him, rushing through the trees. He followed behind, thankful that his trainer makes him go on endurance runs.

As you two got back into the house, you tried to shake him off, just for fun. He wasn’t budging. When you finally made it to the front door, he grabbed your arm and kissed you. Again, those same butterflies were sent free in your stomach, and this time it didn’t make you nervous. It made you happy.

As he kissed you, he pulled your mask off, revealing your identity to him as he pulled away.

“Shit you’re beautiful,” he chuckled. “Sorry if that was too-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, pulling off his mask. “Pretty handsome yourself.”

He smiled. “Please. I want to see you again.”

“You already have my number, idiot,” you chuckled.

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’m just asking you out now anyways.”

You smiled. “Yes, I’ll obviously go out with you.”

He pressed his lips to yours once again, and both of your friend groups cheered, happy that you’d finally gotten together.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi @linnygirl09 @lanadelray1989 @teamnovalak @gleeblegnarp

159 notes · View notes

ryuichirou · 1 year ago

Note

I'm back with my GloMas ask. By the way I love the word GloMas: it's like Christmas but more theatrical and angsty, and at the end of all the celebration, instead of getting presents, you end up with less stuff than before (no need to check Ruggie's luggage, officer. I can assure there's nothing interesting there).

On to the question, which is partially about Ruggie. This event has brought to light a new interesting dynamic that I hadn't really considered before, with the Ruggie/Jamil team up. It's nice to see Jamil be himself (i.e. a menace) more unapologetically than usual. I don't really ship them as a "couple", but I definetely see their appeal as potential "acquaintances-with-benefits". And I bet Ruggie would be happy to hear less grumbling when he decides to pay a visit to the rich boys Scarabia dorm. Basically, I'm curious to know if you guys have any thoughts about these two, both related to the event and in general!

Anon!! Sorry for the late reply, and let me go grab that loud mic I used a couple of days ago once again and tell you.

YES. These two. These two are very good together.

For the most part I want to just yell YES at everything you’ve said because you’ve honestly nailed it. Glorious Masquerade (with its Christmas-like Glomas glory..) was the first event we’d seen (even before we watched the main story), so Jamil and Ruggie’s unexpected chemistry is something that we have in mind at all times lol

It really feels like they can be themselves around each other, which is exactly what they said, and honestly these two out of the entire cast really deserved it. What they also deserved is to have someone to complain about the harsh realities of serving to capricious princes (Kalim isn’t a prince but) who are unreasonable and frankly stupid at times. Just imagine THE LEVELS OF PETTY AND TIRED VENTING, their venting sessions could be the best.

I don’t know if you wanted any headcanons with them, but since we’re at it, might as well drop some. These are mostly sfw, but the last one kind of isn’t lol

They knew that they might be a good match even before the Glorious Masquerade but never really had a chance to hang out before that. And during the event, to them it felt like they’ve been having telepathic dialogues for ages, and now finally they get to actually chat. They’re on the same page TO SUCH A DEGREE it’s actually stupid.

Even after the event, even though both Ruggie and Jamil went back to being super busy, they kept in touch. Sometimes they text each other, sometimes they meet simply to VENT. Having another person who is done of everyone’s bullshit in this stupid school is a blessing. They also talk about other stuff, like cooking and hobbies and even scheming and such, but their main topic is still “wow I hate these people”.

What they find the most comforting about each other is the fact that they know they are not really friends, but they also don’t have much to gain from each other, so it’s not like they should expect a backstab at any point. It’s actually pretty rare for Jamil to be this relaxed like he is when he is around Ruggie.

They don’t have sex regularly, but they did it once during the Masquerade event and at least once when they came back to the NRC. Both of them aren’t too into sex, otherwise it probably would have happened more often. Ruggie is actually a much better option to have this “acquaintances-with-benefits” deal than Azul, because with Ruggie Jamil can be sure there won’t be any feelings attached to it: they’ll help each other out and will be on their merry way…

#replies #headcanons

24 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year ago

Text

Half-Rite - a Malevolent fic

Music rises.

Tension builds.

A masquerade. A confession. An altercation.

A night to remember.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

———

Oh, he knew he looked damned good.

It wasn’t just about atmosphere, scents, wafting magic before the Rite. It wasn’t just about the build-up, or the excitement of the Composer’s music (blind now, according to public belief), or how the brand-new godling would react. It was about him . He set the tone, and appearance was all part of the performance.

Hastur leaned on the wall and cradled Gokar’luh’s crown, giving himself a few moments to cry before that damned performance had to resume.

They’d only been back for a few weeks; not enough time to… get over this , or whatever he was supposed to do. How the hell had Arthur done it? How had he gone on? He hadn’t even had another child who needed him. He hadn’t had anything .

What magic had Parker wrought?

Whatever it was, Hastur began to fear he needed to learn it soon, because this… this wasn’t getting better.

So this was grief? Fuck.

He put the crown back, sealed the little shrine, and took a moment to repair his appearance before checking his reflection via spell.

Yes. Perfect. Everyone would feel desire and enter into this joyful thing, this wild evening of madness in the name of Shub-Niggurath.

And he should be able to do what he needed to do without being seen.

Hastur stood tall, his outfit jingling with that particular ring of gold on gold, and stepped into the virtual spotlight.

This Rite was going to be absolutely legendary. All the wee mortals were hidden away, trembling under their protections; deific passion was never safe , and a night like this was even less so, and this —prepared, planned, delayed—had the potential to take as much life as it created.

Arthur wiped his face again. The sweat was really bothering him. At least his room was cool.

You look so good, crooned John.

“‘Kay,” said Arthur, who just wasn’t engaging with any of this.

John’s hand tried to wander again.

Arthur stopped it again.

Why won’t you let me touch you? John whined.

“Why won't… because , as I’ve already said a dozen times, this isn’t you! Gods. Next time, we need a… an anti-desire necklace, or something, to keep you sane!”

John sighed. His hand reached up instead of down this time and petted Arthur’s hair. So dumb about some things, he said, almost like a lullaby. Makes me want to touch you even more.

“Right, let’s just…” Arthur sighed, then muttered. “I swear I should ask for a raise for this.”

With impeccable timing, Hastur arrived. “If you were inclined to spend your money at all, I’d agree.”

“Well, I don’t exactly have a—”

Oh!

“What?” said Arthur, stiffening.

Nobody told you to look like that, said John, evidently offended.

Hastur ignored that. “Are you ready?”

“Sure,” said Arthur, then added in a whisper, “Look like what?”

He’s all…. John’s left hand waved. Tentacle… shiny… eyes! Gold!

“And this is different from usual, how?” Arthur muttered.

He’s even got golden sheen all over him, John complained.

“I would, if it’s all the same to you, like to get this over with,” said Hastur.

“Same. Let’s go.”

Hastur picked him up

“I can walk,” said Arthur, shoving.

“Not this year. Not this time. It is important.”

Ugh! Stop shimmering!

Arthur sighed. “You’ll just have to up your shimmer-resistance for now, all right? It’s nearly over.”

“For you .” Hastur carried them out into the hall.

Maybe John was right. There were comments. Flattering ones. Disgusting ones. Distinctly inappropriate ones. There was an actual wolf-whistle.

Oohs and aahs . Whatever Hastur had done to himself, it stood out, even before a Rite. “What the hell did you do?” Arthur murmured.

“What I had to,” Hastur murmured back, and the room changed.

Warm, too warm. Musky; so thick with odors both natural and not, so rich, that for one moment, Arthur couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes and spent a moment being deeply grateful for all the events that ensured nothing was going to happen to him right now.

“He looks lovely tonight!” someone called, apparently about Arthur. “Which I’m sure you’ve noticed!”

He does look lovely! snarled John. Leave him alone!

Laughter.

“Oh, gods,” Arthur muttered, entire head feeling hot.

“You’re all right,” murmured Hastur, placing him at the bench. “Do you wish for calm?”

Through the mark. “Not yet. I can handle this.”

“Good. No introductions are needed. Play.”

Oh. He’d thought there would be some sort of banter, or presentation, or—

You’ve got this, Arthur, said John. Everyone is ready.

Arthur closed his eyes, took a slow, perfumed breath, and reminded himself how he wrote this piece in the first place.

Hastur’s hearts were always the base, of course, though he’d begun to think of them as John’s. That was important, because this piece wasn’t about Hastur at all.

It started spare and quiet, with chords like rustling leaves, with a hint of something too big just out of sight. It played with arpeggios like wind, light and cold or sudden and sharp or soft and secretive, and it took its time building.

Toward the moment. The moment he’d been dreaming, though he would not say.

The moment that stuck in his mind as if it had been branded there, perhaps at first without his permission, though he’d since mulled it over so many times that he’d made it his own.

He built, suddenly. Light burst through the upper registers, playful like sun through leaves—a thing he’d seen only once in more than ten years. Joy followed, and shock, and nervousness as he wordlessly asked his audience: what could one see, what could one find, what hunger might arise with sight come true?

When John appeared (in Arthur’s mind’s eye), Arthur moved to the middle of the keyboard, leading the rising strings and woodwinds, creating a sound unlike before. The drums continued Hastur’s heartbeats, but Arthur…

Arthur played trust .

Arthur played love, and surprised joy, and the shared things that a life together can bring; familiar tones and accessible tones and chords that felt like home, but still building (the brass joined now, soft, open fifths and somehow royal), and it seemed the closeness of his hands on the keys only mirrored the closeness of the feeling he brought back to mind.

Arthur smiled as he played, leaning in, hands crossing over each other, entangling with balanced ease, and the drumbeats began to pick up, and the hints of sunlight through impossible trees grew blazing, and the wind picked up.

He changed the rhythm just a touch, just a little, just enough to echo other pulsing sensations, persistent and peaking, and now —

When, in his mind, he hugged John, the music burst open like the birth of a phoenix.

It raced through chords and pounded bass and drum, howled with clashing strings and brass to become something so alien but true , something needed and starving and oh, so strange.

When, in Arthur’s mind, he clutched John’s form and was clutched back (so unfamiliar, and he hadn’t known where anything was apart from John’s mask-like face), he began to feel a feeling he hadn’t felt in so many years that he hadn’t recognized what it was in that place.

That tension, that trembling; that strange, warm want. A daring desire, sweet, tremulous, a new melodic thread raising tension through all the harmonic chaos to focus where need pointed, and (John’s tentacles on his legs) the brass broke off into waterfall cascades of notes and (sliding higher, illicit but welcome) the strings became one sawing, pulsing chord like the beautiful grunts of heaven’s angels, and (recognizing in that moment the strength of those limbs that were so gentle for him), he brought this piece to its climax, arms spread, taking up the breadth and depth of the keyboard, and then—

It stopped.

It didn’t finish. Or it did; but not with a climax. It ended with tension the size of the room, with teeth-clenching want that twisted in knots, with one huge sound more than big enough (Arthur thought) to please Hastur’s sense of grandeur, and it was a dissonance he refused to resolve, refused to take down to the tonic key, and instead left it there, high and sparkling and tense with, at last, one simple note doubled, far, far apart.

He finally realized he wasn’t breathing, and started again.

Behind him, Hastur made one, soft sound. It almost sounded like frustration.

There was a… rumble. As if immensely heavy things had moved, shifted, like the tide, in his direction.

Oh, Arthur , said John, and the way he said it—

A crashing sound like the ocean pouring into a bucket—

Arthur knew he was in danger. Panic spiked.

Hastur grabbed him.

Arthur reached for his room in a way he could not describe. There was no chant. There was no spell. He wanted to be in his room , and as Hastur threw him, something happened.

Arthur had been thrown through portals before. It was a regular event on a night like this, but it usually felt like the damn thing was fully open first.

The sizzle of conflicting magic burned him slightly, bit his skin under his clothes, startled him with the scent of singed fabric. John didn’t quite get his arm up in time, and they landed hard.

Shit! They rolled, Arthur making small pained sounds as his clothes burned him, and behind them came a sound he hadn’t expected: Dagon’s bellowing laugh.

“Well, ain’t that a spicy little fishstick?” he guffawed, and the portal cut off.

“What the fuck?” said Arthur, sitting up. “Ow. Ow! Fuck!” His clothing was hot , all buttons and ornaments painful, and he tugged at it fruitlessly.

John made it easier. Magic! Ready?

“Yes! Fucking ow!”

Ah'mgehye!

The clothing exploded, popping right off him and away from his grateful skin.

John moaned, somewhere between sensual and exhausted. That… felt… oh. Arthur, you’re really red. Everywhere.

“What just happened?” Arthur cried. “Bathroom. Shower. Now.”

Left. Little more. I don’t fucking know! I… I…

Arthur stood under cold water and moaned. He felt just slightly burned everywhere. None of it was bad, but it was uncomfortable. The cold water helped. “I think I fucked up his portal.”

Fuck yeah, you fucked up his portal! The whole thing blazed orange!

“Orange?”

All his fucking magic is gold.

“Yeah, that tracks,” Arthur muttered, finally cooled down enough to scrub the day’s sweat away.

Well, you made it orange. I don’t know what to tell you.

“Good for me.” Arthur sighed, then smacked at John’s hand. “Really?”

Really, John purred.

“No.”

John sighed. Why don’t you want this? Don’t you like being touched?

“Not when it’s practically drugged, ” Arthur snapped. “I…” He muttered something.

What?

“I don’t deserve it, anyway.” That had come quietly, almost hidden by the bang of soap bottles as Arthur slammed them onto their respective shelves, but John was sure he’d heard. What? What did you say?

“Nothing.” Arthur groaned. “What… did my buttons burn me?”

You said… oh! Yes! Fuck! Ugh. I’m still not good at… hold on. Ph’lloig.

The burning eased. “Thanks,” said Arthur and made his way to the bed, where he collapsed on his stomach and could not care less his hair was still wet.

John started doing things again, so Arthur rolled over on his left arm.

Hey!

“You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow,” Arthur murmured, exhausted. “I need to rest, John.”

Noooo…

“Hastur will be coming… I don’t know, eventually. I need to be able to sing when he does.”

A pause. I love you.

Arthur smiled, and John got to see it before his eyes finally closed. “I love you too, you whacko. Let me rest.”

John clung to what he thought Arthur had said in the shower. It was important. It mattered. But as the magic rose in the palace, pulling and pulsing, he lost that thought, and drifted away instead on waking dreams he lacked the courage to relay.

Arthur drifted to sleep.

Hastur didn’t come.

Outside the palace, all was quiet. Carcosa slept, or at least hid, gathering no attention, making no waves. Perhaps that’s why the heat’s approach seemed so wrong.

Grass made the softest sound, barely a sizzle, before wilting in a wide, straight line headed toward the palace. Panicked insects burrowed out of the ground too late, legs twitching as they died in heat that made their tiny bodies blacken and smoke.

Feet from the palace steps, the burning path stopped.

Soundless, Hastur touched down before it, tentacles gracefully spread, gold and jewels glinting in the double-full moonlight.

The ground trembled, almost subtly, and then it began to glow. A deep, terrible red, it moved like tar, like liquid, flowing away from the tentacular, eye-covered mound that displaced it. “ Hastuuur ,” it burbled in a voice of ancient soil and molten stone.

“Tokkaa,” said Hastur, his tentacles gently undulating. “Did you think I would not know?”

“ So you have spies among my people,” said the lava god.

“Of course,” said Hastur. “I also have great mercy. Leave now, and we will pretend you did not attempt an attack on the night my court performed the Rite.”

The lava bubbled a laugh, thick and gluey. “ I don’t want your mercy. All these allies you’re making, all these concessions… you think we don’t know? You have clearly been weakened… perhaps even more so now that you’ve spent yourself tonight.”

“Oh, have I?” said Hastur, rising off the ground, tentacles curling outward like dark flame. “You think I’m vulnerable?”

“ Let’s see if you taste as pretty as you look,” said Tokkaa as if promising a tryst, and lunged.

Which was a mistake.

Dagon found Hastur on the top of the tower.

The fishy scents were joined by many perfumes and incenses, and he grunted contentedly as he sat next to his host. “Nice wards down there.”

“Tell me you didn’t let them all out of the room,” rumbled Hastur, supine, gold gleaming in the moon.

“Naw,” said Dagon, leaning back on his massive, finned arms. “They’re all still busy, anyway. Not like you and me. Know how to satisfy our selfs, don’t we?” He laughed wetly.

“Something like that.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t bother doin’ that.”

Hastur looked at the sky. A drop of magma fell from one of his tentacles, sizzling pleasantly on the roof. “I had more urgent business.”

Dagon was silent for a moment. Then he went a new direction. “This ‘cause of Gokar’luh?”

Hastur jerked away, making a choked sound. “What?”

Dagon shrugged with shoulders broader than the whales he bred. “You always been weird about that guy. You’re even weirder about that girl. But anyhoo, it don’t take much to put together.”

Hastur was tired. He’d planned on what to do when the rumors circulated, but this was too soon , this was ahead of schedule. “My s… my…”

“I hear the Oracle’s dead. I hear it’s by your hand—when you wouldn’t even do more’n smack him on the ass when he fuckin’ betrayed you.” Dagon cracked his neck. “I’da killed him.”

Was that a threat? “Of course you would,” Hastur managed, mentally scrambling to rework his elaborate plan, and panicking at the thought of having to fight Dagon tonight. That wouldn’t go well. There was no guaranteed victor. He couldn’t afford that big a risk. “Your point?”

Dagon looked at him, then patted his nearest tentacle like trying to soothe a spooked squid. “Aw, take it easy, now,” he said. “I allied with you, didn’t I? Think I didn’t do my fuckin’ homework first? Woulda just bought your help if I didn’t want this whole thing to work.”

“Ah. Well. Ah.”

“I ain’t stupid,” said Dagon, sounding amused. “Figured it would take something real big for you to finally kill that ungrateful tadpole. Then saw the scar on the little girl’s neck. Figured that done it.”

It didn’t sound like blackmail. “How well-known is this?” Hastur said, low.

“It’s out there. Somebody saw something and blabbed. It ain’t so bad, big guy. Just thought you ought to know I get what’s goin’ on, and ain’t the only one.”

So Dagon was… being an ally. Properly. Relief filled Hastur’s mouths with a strange and unfamiliar flavor. Maybe gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You going back down?”

Taking care of Tokkaa had been quick, and this was an unscheduled void between actions. “No.”

“Mm.” Dagon studied him. Under the moonlight, his eyes were dark shadows, and the fins on his head fine as knives. “You do clean up real good… and sure as hell need some distraction, or I’m a horseshoe crab.”

Hastur snorted.

Dagon leaned in close, his shadow sliding over Hastur, heavy and shivering-cold and good. “When’s the last time you actually got fucked by an equal, not one’a them picayune little imps downstairs?”

And came a moment of breathless tension, of amplified resonance. It was tempting. It was even expected—a bestial time, wild and powerful and incredibly satisfying between Great Old Ones, without consequence.

But it wouldn’t be deserved .

“A while,” Hastur admitted, low. “And it must be a while more.”

“Gokar’luh?” said Dagon.

“Yes.” Even this simple moment wasn’t deserved, but he’d taken it anyway, selfish.

“Suit yourself,” said Dagon, unconcerned with delayed gratification, and looked back up at the moons. “Offer stands.”

“I appreciate that.” Hastur exhaled. He had a little more time before he had to go back downstairs and plan the next campaign—into Tokkaa’s kingdom, because they were now in need of a god.

Dagon shook his head. He sounded baffled but unjudgmental. “Don’t get it. Can just make another one.”

Oh, it hurt… “No.”

“Sure you can. It’s the nature of offspring; you make ‘em, they die, you make more.” Dagon paused. “They die so much easier than us. You gotta know that.” He almost sounded… gentle.

They sat in silence then for a while as Hastur’s golden tears glittered in the moonlight as brightly as his adornments.

Dagon didn’t point it out. “That false sun sure is beautiful.”

“It is.” Hastur’s voice was almost steady.

“Dunno who dreamed it up this time. Ain’t seen one for a couple hundred.”

“Same.” It burned out there like an ember on the sea. “Carcosa’s position in the mountains was perfect this night.”

“Come see it underwater some time. Pretty damned incredible.”

“Perhaps I shall.” And Hastur almost meant it.

Far in the outer ring of the palace, unaware of drama and tears, Parker lay on his bed, blissed out, naked and messy, about a minute away from sleep.

A large mirror stood by the bed, as did a wheeled cart of various chocolate confections which had been thoroughly ravaged. Parker’s eyes kept drifting shut, blinking hazily in the moments before sleep.

Despite everything, despite the deep and lingering satisfaction, Sunny still wanted to touch. You look so beautiful like this, Sunny murmured, letting Parker’s soft and unfocused gaze fix on the mirror. My partner… My Parker. You are truly magnificent.

Parker smiled, reaching up sleepily to brush his knuckles against their lips; Sunny took hold of their mouth for a moment, pressing a kiss to his partner’s fingers and smiling as Parker held them there. Parker let out a soft groan, then, settling into the sheets (they would have quite the cleanup tomorrow, but Sunny was not going to think about that). “Think I like this Rite stuff,” Parker mumbled, eyes drifting shut again. “You sure you’re good?”

Yes, Parker. If only I could see you like this all the time, Sunny said softly. The things I will do to you, when I have my own body…

“Mm,” said Parker, drifting.

I love you, Parker Yang, Sunny said. Sleep, now, my love. My Parker, mine, forever; this I swear to you.

Parker snored.

Mine, Sunny whispered, letting their shared breath ghost against Parker’s fingers where they lay, settling into the steady flow of his breathing. He truly had worn the poor man out, but for his demands to be heeded, to be obeyed… his sigh was involuntary, deep and blissful, echoed by Parker.

To be… kingly, after so many years.

It wasn’t enough. Not quite. But it was so much more, and what was a bit more waiting to reach out, to embrace, to hold Parker safe in his many arms and ensure his rest was truly as peaceful as he deserved? He could wait.

Sunny had learned patience.

He rested, content, and slipped into the gentle fantasies of the day where could hold Parker as his very own.

#Malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent fic #arthur lester #malevolent arthur #john doe malevolent #KIY malevolent #Hastur malevolent #surrogate series #malevolent fanfic

5 notes · View notes

mongoosecroft-alt · 3 years ago

Text

Song lyrics as writing prompts Wintersberg edition

Prompt: "I'm always tired, it's just a habit."

Song: I'm Always Tired by Weathers

Rules: meh, some lyrics maybe?

Theme: exhaustion

my response:

It's a quarter to three, Ethan is still rolling in bed. He's been staring at the digital clock on the nightstand on and off since he lay down. Rose is on the other bed, surrounded by pillows in a makeshift crib. Ethan would prefer to keep her within arms reach. But he knows she wouldn't be able to sleep next to him in this state, she’s barely out now, shifting and fussing every few minutes in her sleep. It may have something to do with the traumatic events of the past few days, but he knows it's at least partially because he's so tense. Kids are intuitive like that, and Rose has been ill at ease every since Miranda came into their lives masquerading as Mia. Ethan feels guilty that his inability to calm down and rest is keeping Rose from doing the same, and that's probably only making it worse.

Ethan sits up on the bed, he sets his booted feet down on the floor and leans forward on his knees. He still has his jacket and jeans on. The bed creaks but Rose doesn't seem to notice. He takes a moment to review his surroundings, the door is locked with a chair propped under the handle, a lot of good that will do if the bsaa shows up with a battering ram. He's positioned himself between Rose and the door, his gun is in the top drawer of the nightstand, safety's on. His knife is in it's holster tucked under his pillow. And now he's sitting in the dark, staring at the closed door, waiting for something to come crashing through. There's not much more he can do than that.

He rubs the back of his neck and takes as deep a breath as he can. Holds it for a few seconds, and lets it out in a heavy sigh. For a moment the room feels dead silent, all he can hear is Rose's shaking breaths, she's clearly having a bad dream. Ethan contemplates picking her up, but decides it would probably just upset her further. His body seems to grow heavier at the thought, he hangs his head listening closely to Roses breathing in the quiet of the motel room, until he hears a sound that nearly makes him jump out of his skin

It sounded like someone knocking on the door, but who could be looking for them at this time of night? or at all for that matter? Ethan instinctively pulls his knife from under the pillow and looks around the darkened room, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, until . . .

*knock knock knock*

The sound repeats, it's just a soft thudding, like it was barely meant to be heard. Ethan’s eyes land on the sliver of light coming from under the door and he realizes that the sound isn't coming from the front door, it's the door to the adjoining room. Ethan takes another deep breath and tries to settle his nerves, he had almost forgotten that the door was there. it hadn't even occurred to him to worry about it as he surveyed all the potential threats and points of entry a few moments ago. he stares at the sliver of light under the door, he can see the shadow of the man on the other side, he's not moving and he's already knocked twice, so it seems unlikely that he's just going to go away. But what could he possibly want at this hour?

Ethan stands up slowly in an attempt to minimize mattress creaking and pads quietly to the door, he considers for a moment before clicking on the lamp on the far side of the room, Rose has never had trouble sleeping with the lights on before. he gently unlatches the door and opens it slowly.

Karl Heisenberg stands on the opposite side leaning casually on the doorframe as he waits, like Ethan he only has the clothes he was wearing when he left the village, though he's looking far more put together now. The smell of overly scented hotel soaps and shampoo along with the errant air dried curls and waves of his hair give away the fact that he's freshly showered. Ethan was caught a little off guard by the sight, Heisenberg's hat and trenchcoat were conspicuously absent, his unkempt hair and relaxed stance seemed so humanizing, almost endearing.

Ethan was so taken aback by the sight that for a second he failed to notice that the Lord was looking at him over the rim of his glasses with a raised brow.

"Are you trying to outmaneuver a lycan or a small child? because I'm pretty sure her hearing isn't nearly as sensitive as mine"

Heisenberg spoke with an expressive yet soft voice.

If Ethan hadn't been paying attention, he wouldn't have even known he was being insulted. Still, he looked over to where Rose was to check on her, but she didn't seem bothered by the other mans voice at all. He sighed inwardly and decided not to press the issue.

"it's late Heisenberg, what do you want?"

Ethan's words lack venom and betray his exhaustion as he speaks.

"I'm here to offer some respite"

the Lord states matter of factly.

"what?"

"The past three nights you've been awake, either pacing the room or tossing back and forth on the bed, not to mention the kid starts screaming every few hours, so, I know you're exhausted. Because you're making be exhausted."

Ethan scoffed.

"Well, if my daughter and I are so disruptive them maybe you should ask for a different room so you won't have to listen to the lasting effects of an infants psychological trauma."

Ethan knew his response was overly harsh as soon as it came out of his mouth. Heisenberg was paying for their current lodgings with the small fortunes worth of crystals he'd had in his truck when they'd made their escape, and now Ethan was lashing out at him for pointing out that he wasn't sleeping. Ethan shook his head and opened his mouth to apologize but Heisenberg spoke before he got the chance.

"I didn't come here to complain, I came to offer my help, it's been over a week since the crash and the most you've slept since was when you passed out from bloodloss. You must be tired."

"I'm always tired, it's just a habit at this point."

Ethan’s shoulders hung heavy

"But, I can't sleep, not with everything I know now. Besides, who knows if I even need sleep to function anymore anyways."

"You do, I can tell by how bitchy you are without it."

Ethan looked back up from the ground to meet Heisenberg's eyes, he smiled and Ethan had to fight the urge to either laugh or cry, he didn't know which.

"This is your idea of 'helping'?"

"No, my idea was for you to let me watch the kid for a few hours while you get some shut eye, then hopefully you'll be in a better mood when you wake up."

Ethan shakes his head again, he's feeling more exhausted by the second since the start of this conversation

"I get that you want to help, but I can't just leave my daughter alone with someone I barely know."

Heisenberg mulls the fathers words over for a moment before he speaks.

"fine."

he shrugs and pushes past him into the room without another word.

Ethan is swung aside as easily as a door on its hinge and for a moment he isn't quite sure what just happened.

"What are you doing?"

Heisenberg walks past the beds and over to the table. He pulls out one of the chairs and spins it around.

"If you need to watch me while I watch her then fine"

He sits down backwards on the chair at the foot of Rose's bed with his arms folded on the backrest.

"I can keep an eye on her from right here."

Ethan stands in the middle of the room, he tries to find his words but nothing is coming out.

Heisenberg leans forward a little more

"Get some rest papa, who knows, tomorrow might be the day that everything goes to shit all over again, and when that happens you won't be much good to any of us in the state you're in now. So, just let me stand guard for a while."

Ethan can feel his fatigue gripping his bones now, yet there's still that screaming in his head that keeps telling him not to let his guard down. Words come toppling out of his mouth before he’s even stopped to think about them.

"Every time I close my eyes I see all the things that have already tried to come and take her from me, and just as may more that haven't tried yet."

"Do you even know how eyes lie?"

Ethan perked up immediately at the sound of the other mans voice, he hadn't been expecting a response to his musings.

"I spent my entire life surrounded by monsters that most sane people couldn't even fathom, and yet every night when I tried to sleep I'd be convinced that something far worse was coming for me."

Ethan’s not sure how long he stared at Heisenberg after he spoke, but it seemed to be long enough to make him regret sharing.

The Lord rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist with a dismissive showmanship

"Which is to say that you're not special, you just have the luxury of knowing you're not completely paranoid. Since people and creatures like that are in fact out to get you."

Ethan smiles and a soft laugh escapes him. As the sound reverberates through him he starts to realize just how deep this full body ache has sunk in. He takes a seat on the foot of his bed, too tired to stand anymore. He leans forward on his knees again weighing his options.

"Okay."

He finally speaks

"But no smoking around Rose, if you want to light up then go outside."

Heisenberg nods.

"Noted. But I'm not going anywhere"

Ethan falls back onto the bed as quietly as he can muster and doesn't bother trying to move from that spot.

"Night Heisenberg"

He mumbles as he quickly drifts off.

"Good night Winters"

Ethan wakes a few hours later to the sound of Rose fussing, it's still dark with the single dim lamp in the corner serving as the only light source. It's a slow process to dredge his consciousness out of the deep dreamless slumber he'd fallen into. He sees movement as he starts to crack his eyes open, for a man his size, Heisenberg can move in complete silence when he wants to.

Ethan watches through heavily lidded eyes, lying perfectly still as the man moves from his chair to Rosemary's bedside and sits down beside her.

He looks at her pensively and starts to reach with both hands like he's going to pick her up, but seems to think better of it. He sits and watches Rose as she starts to sniffle and wine louder. He starts to rub his hands together slowly, his gloves make a muffled scrubbing noise. They speed up as he leans down over Rose's fortress of pillows.

He reaches out again slowly and presses the palm of his gloved hand down gently on her chest. He waits a moment for her to react and then starts to rub slow circles on her chest. He begins to hum softly and Rose's fussing seems to taper off slowly back into silence

Ethan wonders to himself how Heisenberg could have known or guessed that this gesture would work. But as the soft rumble of Heisenberg's voice drifts into his thoughts he drifts off again.

Ethan doesn't wake again until a streak of sunlight from the crack between the curtains reaches his eyes. He stretches out on the bed and feels the soreness in his muscles, it's still there, but a little less now. He looks at the clock and sees its past noon. He can't remember the last time he slept this long, let alone without being woken by nightmares, either his or his daughters.

Wait, where's Rose then?

Ethan pushed himself up on the bed and looks around the room, he feels an unexpected rush of relief wash over him at the sight of the scruffy rough and tumble Lord stationed at his daughter's bedside.

Heisenberg was asleep, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the bed, his glasses hung on the neck of his shirt. Apparently at some point in the night he'd moved his seat to position himself between where Rose slept and the door.

Ethan was surprised to see that Heisenberg was still here after at least nine and a half hours, it certainly wasn't the kind of timetable they'd agreed to last night, and who knows how much of that the Lord had actually stayed awake for. Ethan certainly wasn't expecting to sleep for this long, though it wasn't uncommon for Rose, in fact she might sleep another couple of hours if she can.

Which was also surprising, even before the events of their recent history, Rose normally only slept this soundly when someone was holding her. As Ethan turns to face them and his eyes adjust to the modicum of light in the room he realizes why.

Heisenberg's arm is rested on the mattress, one of his leather clad fingers gripped tightly in Rose's little hand.

Ethan feels the corner or his mouth twitch at the sight. The two seemed content the lie. He looks back at the clock, Heisenberg usually slept half the day away anyway. Ethan gets up and walks around to the far side of the bed, he pulls his gun out of the nightstand and checks one more time that its loaded and that the safety is still on. He walks back down to the foot of the bed and sits with himself between the two of them and the door.

He can keep watch until they're ready to get up, he can thank Heisenberg when he wakes. For now he'll wait, he'll make sure their both safe.

#Wintersberg writing prompts #ethan x heisenberg #ethan winters x karl heisenberg #HeisenWinters #wintersberg #why does everything I write end up so long?#edited for typos #molded fam

33 notes · View notes

mcyt-amber-tftsmp · 4 years ago

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 {𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

Request?: none

Character: Ranbutler (For the sake of the story let's name him Mark since we don't know his name!)

Side Character(s): Niki Nihachu, Captain Puffy and the SBI family + Kristen and Tubbo!

Story-type: slightly platonic but mostly romantic and a bit of angst but not so much!

Story Length: 5100 words

AU or Not: Basically an AU that has nothing to do with a red egg or Sir Billiam's constant complaining smh

Time Period: Medieval sort of Au! Technically he same time as the Masquerade but of course that doesn't exist cause if it did I would be making an omelette!

Plot Summary: You are the princess of a very wealthy kingdom known as Y/K/N (Your Kingdom's Name) and the only daughter who is basically being forced to marry a prince from a different kingdom but you happen to love a certain butler and plan to leave it all.

Small Info: Both you and Ranbutler are 18 in this story cause why not?

Keywords:

Y/N = Your Name L/N = Last Name B/N = Brother's Name Y/F/C = Your Favorite Color Y/K/N = Your Kingdom's Name R/K/N = Random Kingdom's Name F/N = Father's Name M/N = Mother's Name

Trigger Warning:

- Very strict parents - Mentions of arranged marriage - My very poor writing skills plus English (Fun fact: when i talk I speak good English but write poor English for some ungodly reason smh!)

Normal Warning: Huge as heck Oneshot!

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

Third Person Point of View~

You woke up to the sun coming through your window and light yet slightly loud sound of knocking coming from outside of your door. Yous lowly sat up from your bed as you heard a voice coming from your room.

"Your highness are you awake?" You heard Niki, your personal maid and good friend call you from outside.

"Yes Niki I am awake." You said as you saw the door slowly open to reveal a woman with black hair with blonde highlights in the front, Niki.

"Good morning your Highness. I hope I didn't wake you or disturb you." She said in an apologetic tone as you shook your head.

"It's alright Niki. You didn't wake me up or disturb me and you do know you can call me Y/N right?" You asked as you got up from your bed and went over to get ready.

"I know I am still trying to get used to it since I have to call 'Your Highness' in front of your parents. Oh! I also have to help you with getting you ready today!" Niki said as she went over to help you.

This made you slightly curious as to why. Normally you would get ready with no problem unless there was a guest or some formal event that you have to look good and everything. To be honest you didn't like this life at all and just wanted a normal life.

"Is there a reason for this?" You asked as she slightly shrugged.

"I am not really sure why Your High- I mean Y/N. Though I did hear from your father that there may be another family coming from a distant Kingdom." Niki said which made you even more curious.

You had many questions as to why all of a sudden another family is coming from a different Kingdom but the one thing which was coming in your head was the idea of a an arranged marriage. You shuddered at the thought cause you didn't want to marry someone you never met before or gotten close to.

"And done! You look very pretty!" Niki said as she finished helping you get ready. It was just a simple but elegant Y/F/C dress. You smiled at Niki as you thanked her. At that right moment there was another knock from the open door which revealed to be a boy with heterochromatic red and green eyes and slightly messy brown hair slightly covering his left side of his forehead who happened to be Mark, your butler.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything Your Highness..." Mark asked as you shook your head with a smile.

"No you aren't Mark and what did I say about calling me that? You know you can call me Y/N right?" You said.

"Sorry Y/N. I am still trying not to call you that when your parents aren't around. Oh and your parents are calling you for breakfast." He said as you smiled with small giggle.

"It's alright Mark. I understand." You said and before you could go you heard him say, "Y-you look very beautiful today Y/N." This technically caused you to blush a bit.

"Thank you Mark. You are very kind." You said as you headed towards the dining room where your parents were waiting for you to join them.

Once you were out of earshot and basically out of sight, Mark face palmed at what he just blurted out of his big mouth and was mentally trying not to beat himself up for that. He was going to be honest about having feelings for you. Niki looked at Mark who was currently red in the face.

"You okay?" Niki asked him as Mark nodded.

"Yes I am okay just not sure what to do. I mean what's the point in liking someone when you know you can never get them to love you back and the fact that she's a princess and I am just a mere butler..." Mark said as he looked down at the pristine marble floors as Niki patted him on the back.

"Hey come on! Cheer up! You never know if she likes you back or not. I mean she doesn't really like the entire royal life much to be honest." Niki said as Mark nodded.

He knew this before but he really didn't have much of a chance. He and you would talk a lot and became very good friends and this lead him to have feelings for you. He kept somewhat of his hopes up but then again it was still a one in a million chance at this point.

"Come on! We have to get ready for the guests coming from another kingdom!" Niki said bringing the butler's attention as they went their ways.

Your Point of View~

Breakfast was quiet. Normally it would be me taking with my brother, B/N but of course my brother got married and has gone for his honeymoon. He was to be honest knew about my crush on Mark and has supported me but I knew my parents would forbid it if I told them. As I was thinking my mother spoke up.

"How are you doing my sweet daughter?" My mother said as I quickly swallowed the food in my mouth.

"I am doing well mother. Is there something I should know about for today?" I asked as my father set down his cup of tea.

"Well as you should know that a family from a kingdom is coming. They are from R/K/N Kingdom. You know the prince of that Kingdom right? I believe his name happens to be Prince Jason?" He said as I nodded. I have heard of the name yet I never talked to him at all cause I wasn't so interested in talking to other families much.

((Author: I know very vague name! 'Jason'! Like bruh! xD at least it ain't good as Mark! LOL))

"Well we are planning on making an arranged marriage between you two." My father said as my eyes widened at his words. No way in hell am I getting married to someone.

"I am not getting married to someone I have never met properly!" I said snapping a little and I knew I would regret doing this as my parents glared at me.

"That's not how you speak to your father young lady." MY mother spoke to me as i looked down at my lap still feeling frustrated.

"This is best for the kingdom and you will be getting married whether you like it or not and just so you know you will be getting married to him after five days. The prince himself has already agreed to this" My father said as I fought back tears.

I seriously didn't want to get married to prince Jason. I barely knew him and I knew I wouldn't be married to him by love but just because I got forced to do this. I just want to run away from this life.

Timeskip brought to you by me simping~

I waited beside my father and mother as we waited for the family of R/K/N Kingdom. I looked behind me to see Niki giving me a smile of reassurance. I looked at Mark who gave me a smile and a thumbs up. I smiled back at them and looked in front quickly.

I was blushing after seeing Mark. To be honest i loved his smile. It always made my day. I was snapped out of my thoughts when our Advisor announced that the family has arrived. I looked to see the door open to reveal the Queen, King and Prince of the other Kingdom and followed my parents to greet them.

"I am so glad you could join us with your lovely family King Etienne." My father started as they shook hands.

"I am glad to join you as well King F/N. This must be your daughter Y/N am I right?" King Etienne said as he looked at me. I curtsied as I greeted him.

"Yes I am Your Majesty." I said as he chuckled.

"No need for formalities as you will be marrying off my youngest son, Jason here." He said as he gestured to the blonde boy with brown eyes who came forward to meet me.

"It's lovely to make your acquaintance Princess." He said as he smirked.

"Likewise." I said trying not to feel irritated with him.

"Looks like our children will be getting along just fine. Don't you think so M/N?" Queen Aliyah asked as my mother nodded.

"Why don't we talk more at lunch. You must all look exhausted after traveling. Come along I will show you to your rooms." My father said and before I could go Prince Jason stopped me by taking my hand and kissing it.

"I will see your around Princess" He said to me in a flirty tone as he walked towards the rest. I seriously hated him even more.

((Author: Anyone wanna kill of Jason with me? Only me? Okay!))

Ranbutler's/Marks' Point of View~

As I saw that bloody prince kiss the palm of Y/N's hand I gritted my teeth in slight anger and jealousy. I seriously couldn't stand and watch this anymore.

"I can't look at this anymore..." I said walking away fast from the place without anyone noticing but of course Niki did and was coming behind me.

"Mark wait!" I heard Niki whisper yelling but I just continued to walk but I gradually stopped and leaned to my side against a wall as I wiped my face. It hurt a lot and Niki who finally caught up saw the distraught in my eyes.

"Mark look at me. Please?" She said as I slowly looked at her. She looked worried and I hated seeing this. I looked away and at the floor.

"Am I really this much of a bad friend that doesn't want her to get married to that prince just because I love her?" I ask fighting back tears as Niki hugged me.

"No you aren't and you will never be a bad friend because of that. She loves you no matter what alright? Good!" Niki said as I wiped my face.

"Thank you sister." I said as she nodded.

"Anytime little brother!" She said as I followed her.

I basically knew the rest of the five days starting from tomorrow would be something which I hate cause I have to see Y/N and that Prince nearly hanging out everyday because King F/N. God I am gonna go through such a huge roller coaster and am not gonna love it.

Third Person Point of View~

The five days seemed to have been passing by pretty quick. Prince Jason and Princess Y/N would be hanging out most of their time. Of course it wasn't Y/N's idea to talk to him but she had to since his father and mother were not going to leave her be without talking to him.

Y/N would mostly make small talk wit the Prince while the Prince would boast around most of his time and would just go on and on while Y/N just listened. She seriously didn't enjoy talking to him like how she enjoys talking with Mark.

Meanwhile with Mark and Niki, they seriously did not like the Prince at all. The royal family may not know it but the Prince has been really demanding towards Niki and the other maids and those maids did not like them either along with the butlers that are here around the castle.

The most mistreated butler here by Jason was Mark. Jason would always do something and apologize but he and a few people knew besides the the Kings and Queens that he meant to do that but of course they had no power and if they did something of course it might lead to some sort of punishment.

This has been going on for four days straight and at this point all the maids and butlers disliked Jason and knew that Princess Y/N did too but they all knew she had no choice.

The fifth day rolled by and Y/N would be getting married after the fifth day and she knew she had no time to get out of this. She had already accepted her fate which was to get married to Jason as she had no choice.

But... a certain maid had other plans. A risky one but she knew that it would work out well and she set her plan into motion without anyone's knowledge.

Y/N's Point of View~

It was the fifth day and it was two hours till midnight. I knew I had no choice and no plans of escaping this. I sat on my bed with my nightgown on. I looked at the clock to see it was 10 o' clock at night. I can't believe this was happening and I couldn't even tell Mark how much I loved him way more than a friend. My thoughts were broken when a knock came through my door.

"Come in..." I faintly said as I heard the door open. I looked up to see it was Mark.

He came towards me and I motioned for him to sit beside me. He slowly sat down on the bed and there was a moment of silence between us. It would have lasted longer but Mark had spoken up to break the silence.

"So... I guess you are getting married tomorrow huh..." He said in a neutral voice as I nodded.

"Seems so..." I said and there was silence once again. In those silent moments I randomly started to tear up.

"Mark... I don't want to get married tomorrow to Prince Jason..." I said as my voice slightly broke as tears feel down my face.

"Why not? I mean Prince Jason is a really nice guy and would treat you well..." You heard Mark trail off but you did notice his tone was different. Was it that he was sad? You brushed it off.

"Mark listen. I don't love him at all! I don't want to be with someone I barely know and love! Jason is that person I barely know and love. I love someone else but I don't even know anymore..." I said wiping my face. I hated this so much yet I have no choice.

Before I could do anything else, I felt two hands cup my cheek and felt a pair of lips meet mine. Before I knew it, Mark was kissing me. It was passionate and loving. He broke away from it and had a face of worry and quickly stood up.

"I-I am r-really s-sorry Y/N I-I didn't mean to-" I cut him off by kissing him while standing on tippy toes and bringing him slightly closer.

((Author: Don't get any ideas please! Or I will go shoot shoot on that dirty mind of y'alls! 😃🔫 Be careful! Now shoo!))

Ranbutler's/Mark's Point of View~

I was in shock cause SHE was kissing ME! I kissed her back. The kiss was long and passionate and didn't really last that long since we had to break away for air. At this point both our faces were red from blushing.

"I guess that person who you love is me...?" I asked as she nodded hugging me.

"Yeah it is." She said sighing not letting me go.

"I love you Mark." She continued as I kissed the top of her hair.

"I love you too. I don't want you to marry that Prince..." I said as she nodded.

"I don't want to either Mark but we have no plan to escape this easily and I don't know how to either." She said.

It was true we had no plan and if we escaped without a plan it would be very difficult. Gosh I wished we had a plan or we could have escaped smoothly. My thought was broken by someone coughing and we both looked in a panic to see who it was and luckily it was just Niki.

"Be ready 12 o' clock at night. Pack a few things and especially wear a cloak to hide yourselves. Don't question cause I am getting you two out of here." Niki said as she left.

Y/N and I looked at the door trying to process what just happened but understood. We did as she said and got ready. When it was 12 at midnight Niki set her plan into action.

"Come with me you two. I know a friend who can get you out of here with no issue. But be very quiet." She said as we followed her through the halls as quiet as possible.

She led us down a secret tunnel which was unknown to everyone accept her but of course me and Y/N know about this. After minutes of walking we were outside but near the docks. I looked around to notice a huge ship docked nearby with a person leaning against the wall of the ship.

"Is this it Niki?" I asked as Y/N stood beside me adjusting her cloak and hood to not get noticed. Niki nodded.

"Yep!" She said walking towards the ship as we followed.

When we came a little closer, the owner of the ship was revealed to be a woman who was half ram and had half white and brown fluffy hair up to their waist. She smiled as she looked at us and shook my hand.

"Captain Puffy at your service! I am guessing you are Mark and Princess Y/N?" She asked as we nodded.

"Yes but please call me Y/N Puffy. No need for formalities." Y/N said with a smile as Puffy nodded.

"Alright! Right this way." She said leading Y/N and me to get on the ship.

Before I did that I stopped to look at Niki who had a sad smile on her face. I was going to miss her a lot. She is my sister and it will be hard leaving her.

"I will miss you brother. Please take care." She said giving me a quick hug as I hugged back and nodded.

"I will sister. Do the same." I said as I got on the ship and it set sailed.

I looked out at sea and my sister who was waving farewell. I waved back along with Y/N. At this point I didn't care about anything other than what was going to happen now. I just hoped things don't go downhill when they find out the Princess had run away.

Niki's Point of View~

I quickly went back to the castle using the secret route I always used to meet Puffy. It was going to be a matter of time in the morning when the king and queen and the other royal family found out that Y/N was missing. I already had an excuse for my brother which is fool proof. Right now I was going to get some sleep and wake up tomorrow.

The Next Morning~

I woke up as early as I could and I saw the other maids and butlers preparing the food and other things for the arranged marriage today. I was the one who knew the entire marriage thing was going to go down real fast.

I went with the Queen to 'wake up Y/N' for the big day today. At this point no one has asked about Mark or where he is other than the butlers and maids but I told them that he was sick and had to leave for home. As I was thinking the Queen spoke up.

"Where is Mark today anyways? I haven't seen him since morning and he normally wake up early." She said.

"He was really sick so he had to leave for home later in the morning." I said as she nodded.

"I am glad he left to take care of himself and so my daughter doesn't get ill on her wedding day." The Queen said as we stood out of Y/N's room.

"Y/N! It's time to wake up for your big day!" The Queen called out but as expected from me, no answer.

"Y/N?" She said as she opened the door to reveal no one was there.

The Queen had a look of panic and me being the good actor I am had the same look of panic. We looked around everywhere. Even Prince Jason and his family looked around but couldn't find her. The King even went to town to ask around but of course no one saw her.

At this point no one suspected it to be Mark or had any suspicions of it. They didn't even suspect a thing from me since I acted out pretty well. The other maids and butlers were worried but glad at the same time that Y/N wasn't marrying that b***ard. I for one was very glad.

Y/N's Point of View~

I quickly got dressed the minute I woke up and went out of the deck to see Mark slightly leaning against the rails as he looked across the horizon and saw Puffy sail the seas. She noticed me and smiled.

"Good morning Y/N." Mark said with a smile.

"Morning Mark!" I said a bit cheerful.

"I am glad you are all dressed up cause we will be reaching the dock in five minutes." She said as she continued sailing and looking ahead.

"Where are we going exactly?" I asked.

"We are going to Minecraftia Kingdom which is ruled by the one and only Philza Minecraft." She said.

I have heard of the Kingdom but my father didn't really have any sort of connection with the king of the kingdom plus this kingdom was in a sense very mysterious as the Kingdom would 'move' and by that it was only found by people who needed it the most.

After five minutes we reached the dock of the kingdom and carefully got down. I looked around to see many people running around working. Children were running here and there and were having fun.

"MOM/DAD!!" My thought broke as I heard someone yell these words and noticed five people run towards Puffy and engulfed her in a hug.

"Hello my Ducklings!" I heard puffy say. I practically guessed they were her children.

"I am glad you got back safe papa!" I heard the who had shark-totem like features say.

"Who are they?" I heard the girl with blonde hair ask.

"They are the ones I was supposed to pick up from the Y/K/N Kingdom." Puffy said.

"Y/N and Mark, meet my adopted children. This is Dream (As in DreamXD), Clay (As In Dream), Foolish, Drista and Michelle. My children meet Y/N and Mark." Puffy said introducing us.

After all this we headed towards the castle. To be fair the castle was really huge and I was really nervous and hoping the king would allow me to stay here like Puffy said he will. We were led to the throne room which revealed King Philza, Queen Kristen and three other who I guessed were his sons.

"I am so glad to see you three safe and sound. My name is Philza but please call me Phil and this is my wife Kristen and my three sons: Technoblade, Wilbur and Tommy." Philza said introducing themselves.

"Don't forget my best friend Tubbo!" I heard the younger blonde say as I saw another kid come out from behind him who I guessed was Tubbo.

"Hi Tubbo." I said as he nodded with a toothy smile.

"Also I will show you to your rooms. You and Mark can stay as long as you like here." Philza said as he showed us our rooms.

I settled down in my room as I put my things away. To say the least the room was pretty big like a bit bigger than my old room. After I settled down as freshened myself up, I heard a knock on my door and hearing Mark's voice I let him in.

"Hey Mark." I said as he smiled.

"Hey Y/N" He said.

We both sat down on the bed as silence once again came towards us. It was pretty much normal at this point. I mean we both ran away from my kingdom and there might be a chance that my family might find us but at this point I prayed that they just don't.

"I am actually thinking about Jason's reaction right now that you are out of his picture." Mark said as he chuckled at the thought. I also laughed cause it was pretty funny to say the least.

"At this point I don't feel like looking back and just focusing on our future." I said as Mark nodded.

"Me too." he said as leaned down and kissed my cheek. At this point we were staring at each other longingly but that was broken by a screeching off a child as we looked at the door to see it was Tommy.

"What the f*** did I just walk into!? Nope not today! I am a minor!" he said as he walked away screaming like he was in danger. Then Tubbo kind of peeked through the door.

"We just came to tell your guys that dinner is ready. Also please don't mind Tommy." He said as he ran after Tommy.

We were just looking at the door and then after a few moments burst out in laughter at what just happen. This was really funny to say the least. We got up and walked towards the dining room. As we did my mind went back to my parents. I hope they aren't mad but who am I kidding to think that? Of course they are going to be mad! But I shook the thought out of my head. The only thing I could think about is what else is going to come after me and Mark.

2 years later~

It's been two years since mark and I have ran away from my Kingdom. We still live in Phil's Kingdom but live in a separate cottage together. Niki recently came here to live with Puffy and everyone else. She told me that she quit her job and that my parents gave up on searching me saying that I was a disappointment but I didn't really care. My brother learned that I ran away which he wasn't mad about so that was good.

Right now I just pushed those aside and just focused on spending the rest of my life pretty normally. I made a few friends here like Hannah, Alyssa and a few more. Mark also became friends with Technoblade and Tubbo. You were glad he was able to make new friends.

I was just sitting on the hillside as I looked into the horizon. The sun was setting and it was my favorite time of day. The sky looked really pretty with it's twilight colors. As I stared into the distance I noticed someone sitting next to me and it was Mark.

"It's pretty comforting isn't it? Watching the sunset with no forms of burden?" He asked. I nodded at his words.

"Yeah. It feels nice knowing I have no burden to deal with. It's nice." I said as I continued to look at the sky. After moments of silence it was getting dark. We were about to head back but Mark stopped me.

"Mark is there something wrong?" I asked as he looked at me.

"Y/N I want to say that we have been together for two years and I loved you days after I met you when you were still a princess and I didn't just love you because of that. I loved you for you. I loved your personality and how you treated me and everyone else well. What I am trying to say is that I want to take our relationship to the next step." He said as he started to kneel down. I was beyond shocked at his words and could probably tell what he was going on about.

"Mark..." I said as he fully knelt down in front of me.

"Y/N... would you do me the honors..." He started as he took out a box and opened it to reveal a ring. "... of making me the happiest man alive and marry me?" He asked.

I was shocked beyond everything. At this point I felt the world stop and the only people were me and him. Tears started to well up in my eyes as I nodded.

"YES!" I said as I tackled him into a hug. We were practically crying and laughing in joy.

He popped the ring in my finger as we laid down on the grass for a while. I didn't care if it was very late and dark outside. I was safe enough to be with him for the rest of my life and nothing could ever change this. Right now all I could think of was the bright future ahead of me and how I was going to spend it. But most importantly...

It was going to be with Mark!

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

#ranbutler #ranbutler x reader #ranbutler x you #ranbutler x y/n #the masquerade #tales from the smp #fluff #oneshots

44 notes · View notes

fallen-in-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Mon Amant

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary: She wasn't a fantasy to him. She wasn't a wet dream. She was the real thing. For KakaSaku Month 2021. Post-war. *Mon Amant - my lover* Prompt: (Week 2, Day 4: May 13) The Heart Wants What It Wants. Rated: Mature Words: 7,346. Status: Complete.

Author note: Lots of angst and post-war life evaluation and some smut.

Thank-you so much @kakasaku-haven for hosting this. It’s already the 13th where I live so I hope it’s okay to post this now. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

. She bit her bottom lip in both nervousness and consternation. All these warm bodies gyrating, and she was beginning to think this party was just an excuse to hook up. But the funds raised were going to a good cause, so there was no point in complaining. Everyone wore their masquerade masks well, especially the man currently holding his hand out to her, silently asking for a dance. She smiled and accepted his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. He had a henge on and so she couldn’t tell if his mask covered his upper or lower face, which was frustrating. But he held her delicately, danced like he owned the stage, and looked at her like she was the world, and she was quickly and easily enamoured. And when they slipped out the back to fuck, everything just came naturally. There was groping that came with one-night stands in alleyways. There was murmuring but very little kissing, as one would expect from clandestine trysts. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning at the wonderful feeling of him filling her, there was no pretending she didn’t like it rough. He was still a mystery to her, then. There was no way that he didn’t know exactly who she was, but his mask stayed on his face the entire time. .

Images of her wrapped around him, biting her bottom lip, clawing his back and scrunching her eyes as he came inside of her...they tormented him. Not because his lusting after his former student was some wet dream fixation he couldn't get out of his head. Not because he couldn't have her, and imagining her breasts bouncing as he fucked her against some random wall was a major factor of his night-time fantasies. She tormented him because he couldn't get enough of her.

The first time they had sex was in the back room of a bar during the first annual allied shinobi celebrations – a masked function that was so successful that the powers that be decided to keep the theme for every event. It was supposed to maintain the appearance of cooperation and friendship between the nations while giving people the freedom and confidence to mingle without previous prejudice. During the seven days leading up to it there were competitions and friendly tournaments but on that final (and only masquerade) night, the lines between their countrymen blurred and the drink flowed as heavily as the reduced inhibitions did.

Relations between nations had never been so good.

The original plan was to hold the masquerade in neutral areas until Naruto suggested they rotate the host between each nation. That meant that it would take five whole years for every village to have their turn, and five whole years of people hooking up with a foreign shinobi; the allure of the mystery and no-strings-attached sex brought in hordes of ninja. Not to mention the village pride that spiked during the friendly matches leading up to it. They had to have multiple festivities and new buildings set up to cater to everyone. Which was also seen as a competition between the Kage on who could hold the best event. And who could help out war victims more. And who had the best booze. The list of things they competed over were endless.

If it meant peace would reign, it was worth it. But Kakashi’s problems were more important.

Every year and new festival brought him closer to Sakura. Each time he’d don his henge and backwards mask he’d take her to a secluded area and do things to her that he’d never imagined she would love to have done to her.

Every inch of her skin was his to worship.

But the months between their trysts were the hardest. Lonely nights remembering how she felt wrapped around him were driving him mad. She would never accept him in the light of day, so he was resigned to taking those annual moments when Sakura Haruno let loose enough to fuck a complete stranger.

And he was an impatient man as much as he was a self-hating masochist.

His heart wouldn’t be able to take it forever.

.:.

As she came down from her high Sakura gripped his butt with both hands and squeezed, giggling when he jerked slightly. It wasn’t a teasing, flirtatious smile that adorned her face when he looked down at her, surprised. Was she making fun of him? She’d never done that before. Sakura giggled again, and she pressed herself further into him. She let herself relax. He was still inside her and softening but she liked it. The slow circles she traced over his back were born from laziness and contentment. It felt like she was attempting to haphazardly cover him in ninja symbols but due to the drag of her movement, he couldn’t tell which ones. “Are you drawing jutsu on me?” Sakura pulled back and looked up at him. His voice was deeper than usual. She smiled. “Are you pretending to be a shinobi?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I am.” “Hm. And I’m pretending to be Cinderella. Fuck me until midnight, but I’m the one that turns back into a pumpkin.” That was a weird thing to say to someone you thought was a stranger. He frowned. “Who does that make me?” “The Prince-who-isn’t-actually-Charming.” “Huh.” He smiled at that. “That sounds like me.” She just hummed, wiggling her butt as it started to numb, pressed against the brick-and-mortar wall behind her. Her fingers grasped at his chin, feeling bare skin and her question on what type of mask he was wearing behind that henge was answered. Kakashi’s hand flew up to grasp her quickly and she gasped at his speed and the intensity of it. He didn’t want to show her. He’d flee if she pushed him. She released her hold and he reciprocated. But Sakura wasn’t finished yet. She would push him in other ways. “Why the disguise?” .

And fucking her was the only thing keeping him sane.

That was a bad thing. He should be able to handle this post-war funk he'd found himself in without banging his former student. He was a sick, sick old man. And to top it off, she didn't even know it had been him. Every. Single. Time. They. Fucked.

Made love...they made love.

Kakashi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his head. It wasn't making love; they'd only ever fucked in crowded pubs and clubs or the back alley of said establishments. The end of the war saw a rise in celebrations, and everyone knew that Kakashi Hatake didn't do celebrations. He always made his excuses on that masquerade night and disappeared until dawn. He didn’t do big crowds and frolicking, so no-one questioned him.

I just do Sakura.

Bad thoughts...he covered his eyes with his right hand, fingering the flask of sake in his left hand, and groaned out loud. Sakura didn't know her mysterious lover was him. But he knew full well it was her. He was taking advantage of her. He had been since she turned eighteen, and he hated himself for it. Their first time had happened because Sasuke had rejected her and refused to let her on the list of approved guests during his stay at the new allied prison – and then when he got out, he treated her like she was a stranger; the only times he acknowledges her was in team missions, outings and spars. She had been suffering that night, which was why she’d gone to the masquerade, and Kakashi had known it.

“Kakashi?”

He didn’t turn to acknowledge Yamato; the other man had made it his mission to get Kakashi out of his funk, but it wasn’t working. Sometimes Kakashi day-dreamed about strangling the wood style user with his own jutsu. Wrapping vines around his throat while pretending he couldn’t hear his cries for mercy calmed him enough to not try it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Just thought you should know that the council is trying to make you Hokage again.”

Kakashi groaned loudly; it was the only reaction Yamato was going to get from him, so the wood style user quietly shuffled away.

Maybe he’s finally learning to just leave me alone.

Or maybe it was just his only reason for hunting him down this time. It didn’t matter. His turbulent thoughts weren’t large enough to house concerns over Yamato’s interruptions as well. Kakashi set aside time to wallow in self-pity – over the years he’d perfected that art – and didn’t like being interrupted while doing so. But after the war that self-pity had turned into anger which eventually morphed into fear (of the future) and finally settled into what he supposed was a mix between wistfulness and regret. Add Sakura to the pile of things he did to hurt himself and something was going to burst soon.

How had his life come to this?

Kakashi frowned down at the broken memorial that once held Obito’s name. How could a rogue ninja have screwed him over so thoroughly, twice, that the only time he felt whole and complete was when he was fucking his former student? Obito’s pain had turned him into something twisted and blind but Kakashi had promised himself never to take that path. He’d fight that lingering darkness even if it meant taking something he didn’t deserve.

He groaned. That was enough whining for the day.

“You got off easy,” he told the epitaph before teleporting away.

.:.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk.” She frowned as he ran a hand down her side; letting out a sigh of anticipation. What kind of line was that? Did that really work on other women? But oh gods, when he rubbed her clit just like THAT she couldn’t complain. He hit her hard and fast, moving those talented fingers right over the spots he’d learned were her weakness. Fuck it, she needed him. But they always did it against a wall and she was beginning to think he believed it was the only way he could take her. What about a bed? What about letting her on top? But those rebellious thoughts quickly lost cohesion as he drove into her. All she was now, was a puddle of wet, slap happy moans and quivering pleas to an unknown deity. She was definitely going to have trouble walking after this. When she did finally come down from the white-hot bliss that Kakashi never failed to provide for her, Sakura decided she’d bug him about changing things up next time. But twelve months was a long time to wait for what she desperately wanted from him. .

The war had left many orphans, shinobi or not, and the homeless outnumbered the dead – most of which were civilian. This count included all nations, as it was public knowledge that the world's shinobi force had been cut by the thousands. So, in light of this, the great nations set up a number of fundraisers, the funds would go to rebuilding homes and replacing personnel. Even the Feudal Lords were getting in on it, donating money to make themselves look good – it was a political move, given that they hadn't had anything to do with the success of the war. But it was still welcomed. And needed.

And nobody deserved that praise more than people like Kurenai. She was determined to find love again, one day, after Asuma, but for now her attention was on all the children also caught by the ravages of war. She had her daughter as inspiration and Yamato’s help to set up a new complex on the outskirts of Konoha – the existing orphanages were too overrun to take them all.

It became her raison d'etre.

Kakashi knew all this because he’d volunteered his dogs as a weekly entertainment for the little brats. After the first few months he let himself be dragged into babysitting a few, nostalgic for the good old Team Seven days when someone was both surprised and in awe over his charming wit. Kurenai must’ve been doing something right because these kids were far more well-behaved than his old team had ever been.

Sakura.

Unbidden thoughts were best shoved to the back of his brain.

Kurenai’s Home for the Homeless also took over a portion of Kakashi’s life. After his role in the creating of the war he needed to give back something. The ninja nations would quickly recover their old strength, but the civilians would be slower to mend. So, he focused his efforts there.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of helping us this time,” Pakkun warned him.

Kakashi gave him his best smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Pakkun huffed at him but said nothing more as he dived into the group of kids who were waiting for him. Their laughter and squealing made Kakashi’s eye twitch, but he kept the smile plastered to his face. And even with his mask on – which the kids had already repeatedly tried and failed to remove – they could tell it was a genuine smile, nonetheless.

This was his seclusion away from his ninja life. So, when Sakura came into the home one late Monday afternoon, Kakashi had a moment of panic – he’d gone out of his way to either avoid her or schedule their unavoidable interactions and he never would’ve believed that homeless shelter was a place she’d willingly visit. Sakura had her own demons regarding the war; her failed attempt at a relationship with Sasuke was the least of her concerns it seemed. She frequently woke from nightmares. And he’d heard she’d had some bad news regarding her fertility.

I’m such a stalker.

So, the reminder of innocence – the children who bore the brunt of the fallout of a war that should never have touched them – should be too much to bear, right?

She looked over at him and smiled her tired smile. He found himself instinctively smiling back. A tugging sensation began at his navel and twisted and heated up as it quickly travelled south.

Not now.

But then Kurenai caught her attention and that coil snapped.

Kurenai.

Kakashi contemplated mimicking Kurenai and trying to move on from his pathetic mindset. He could ask her out, or someone out, and forget all about the calming warmth and somehow simultaneous ferociousness that Sakura invoked in him. But he knew from experience that he would just mope. He would just use it as an excuse to internally ramble about his life mistakes and hate himself. He was still going to Obito’s so-called grave, after all. The man had murdered innocents and started a war but Kakashi still mourned him.

He wasn’t ready to move on, though. Not yet. And certainly not with anyone but Sakura. Or with her.

Kakashi sighed, rubbing his eye where the Sharingan used to be. And he was still moping.

.:.

The fundraiser was in full swing again; the familiar sight of shinobi from all nations done up in masquerade and dancing and drinking warmed even the most aloof and stubborn hearts among them. The Raikage had outdone himself with floating baubles and lanterns with music that played off the masked theme. He’d imported some band from across the Northern Sea to play until midnight. Like it was some Cinderella ball and the Raikage was looking for his own prince. Sakura smiled at that as she made her way through the streets of the village hidden in the cloud. It was her first actual visit to this part of the land of lightning and she was buzzed from the excitement of it all. Ino was off doing her thing – or doing some cloud ninja, who knew – and Sakura was content to lazily explore the village while keeping her eye out for her ex-sensei. He always made excuses to not directly participate in the festivities, but he was Hokage now. He needed to at least be here. She pitied the ninja who had to remain in their home village as a part of their skeleton crew during these festivities. They were mostly just lower levelled shinobi (and those who either didn’t want to travel or couldn’t) anyway. Ones that didn’t participate in the war were usually shafted to that position too. These festivities were mostly for the survivors. It sounded elitist, but Sakura wasn’t too worried about that. They deserved this. It took her an hour to realise she was being followed – she blamed the alcohol now swarming in her system. But like she couldn’t tell who he was, the baka. He never did fully appreciate her natural talents with genjutsu. She led him on a bit of a merry chase and allowed him to catch her near the temporary accommodations for foreign ninja but the moment his hands found her waist he manoeuvred her toward the nearest alley way. What was with him? Sakura could do little other than moan as he pressed her against the stone wall, face first. He worked on her clit as he grabbed her tits, seemingly not wanting to be tender, again. When he did let his guard down and be gentle with her, they headed into territory that neither was ready for. Okay. She could go with this. Sakura pushed her arse into him, rewarding him for his attentiveness to her body. “Yes, fuck, like that! Please!” He quickly dispensed of any more formalities and Kakashi undid his pants in record time before driving into her, squeezing his eyes shut to the hypocritical mantra in his head. He didn’t want this but so desperately did at the same time. Sakura didn’t bother keeping quiet, ignoring the occasional passer-by of the alleyway who was momentarily drawn by the sound of her cries. When they realised it wasn’t someone being attacked, they quickly scuttled off. She didn’t even care if any of them recognised her as the former Hokage's protégé. Sakura came hard at that thought and trembled as Kakashi rode out the last few strokes whispering naughty things in her ear. She didn’t want this to end here. It wasn’t her orgasm making her tremble as the thought occurred to her. She wanted to see ALL of him. She pushed him to pull out of her and then shakily spun around on the spot. Sakura sucked in a deep breath for courage and forced herself to sound calm as she asked, “my place or yours, next?” Her fingers were like fire as they caressed his arm. Kakashi could only pant in response, struggling to hold himself up as she put bad thoughts in his head. She waited patiently, clearly expecting a response. Did he dare to hope? Maybe she was just basking in her own afterglow and didn’t mean it. Because she had no idea who he was. But when he finally recovered enough to pull back and stare into those unfathomably beautiful, emerald eyes of hers he realised she was serious. She wanted to know who he was. There was no doubt he was the same man she’d been fucking annually, this whole time. And she was ready to really know him… maybe? Kakashi felt shame and fear rush through him. And fled .

He was such a coward. It was so easy to love and leave her. Much easier than admitting how he felt. And infinitely easier than removing his henge and accepting whatever recriminations she had for him.

“You still sulking?”

Gai couldn’t come and annoy him as often as he used to so Yamato had taken up that mantle. But at least he didn’t wax poetic about youth and all that crap. Not that Kakashi wasn’t feeling like he didn’t need a pick-me-up, but Yamato’s style was decidedly less annoying. When sober.

He decided to humour him, since masochism was the least he deserved after that last run-in with Sakura.

“Just about the naughty fun I had in Kumo last week.”

Yamato scoffed. “I don’t drink nearly enough to be hearing that.”

“You drink enough for the both of us.”

He wasn’t going to pull the I-missed-out-on-the-war-so-I-get-to-complain-more-than-you card. Yamato may have been captured but he didn’t watch his comrades die in front of him. Not this time, anyway. Kakashi had no idea how much of the experimentation Kabuto did on him that he remembered. Did it change his chakra? Did it leave him with nightmares? Did he have to buy new sheets for his bed every week because of how much he tore them up when he could actually get some semblance of sleep?

Did he remember nothing at all?

Kakashi would’ve liked to have slept through the war, if it was still a guarantee they’d have won. That Infinite Tsukuyomi might have been beyond stupid, but the lure of peace was enticing. Still, he bore his pain. Even if he did run from it from time to time.

From Sakura, you mean, old man.

He chuckled, surprising Yamato.

“Did you hit your head, Kakashi-senpai?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

He was Hokage now, after all.

“Some habits are worth not breaking.”

“Hm. If they annoy me, you mean.”

“That’s the spirit. Laugh at my expense, like you always do.”

Kakashi looked over at him and felt himself relax at the teasing look on the other man’s face. It was a welcomed respite that he knew he didn’t deserve. “Right.”

“By the way, Sakura’s looking for you. Might want to head on over to her place later to find out what about or risk the almighty wrath. See you later.”

Yamato left him to his thoughts then, not knowing how dark they’d turn in his absence.

As far as he could tell she wasn’t dating anyone, though he didn’t stalk her enough to know if she occasionally scratched the same itch that he scratched every year. He didn’t want to know if some other guy had been inside her.

Kakashi was well aware that the best way to combat this would be to confess to her and hope she didn’t pound him into the ground, but like he said: he was a coward. He was too used to seeing her as his student. Too used to the self-flagellation of only getting to hold her once every twelve months. He was too comfortable with the barely-see-each-other routine they had going that didn’t make his heart race. He didn’t even know how to begin that conversation with her.

And the Hokage shouldn’t be dallying with a former student.

Kakashi sighed again, running a hand along the graffiti on Obito’s memorial.

As the years droned on so did his monotonous excuses.

.:.

This time he let her pin him to the wall. Because she liked it. And because she could. He groaned into her mouth as she worked her hand over the bulge in his pants, her knees on either side of his left leg. Dry humping seemed to make him even harder, so she kept at him, working him into a tizzy. It was going to be even harder for her this time, if she didn’t slow down. But Sakura was the one in control, so she used her strength to keep him from flipping their positions and taking charge, kissing her way up his bare neck as she did so. When she bit his earlobe, he bucked against her and Sakura slid her hand back down to his pants. But this freed him up somewhat and the disguised Hokage grasped her hips and pressed so hard she knew come morning there’d be a bruise. “Let me show you how much you deserve to be fucked.” Old words that never failed to turn her on, regardless. The fucking part of this interlude was over and before she knew it, her back was against the wall again. So he’d only let her take over for the foreplay? Arsehole. Sakura was feeling petty as Kakashi lifted her left leg over his hip and pushed into her with no more preamble. She gripped his butt harder than necessary, scratched down his back knowing it was going to scar if she didn’t heal it soon, and bit his lip when he leant into kiss her so hard, she tasted blood. “Fuck.” And he liked it. “Fuck,” She echoed his sentiments and cried into his mouth as he took her in the familiar position. She focused on hurting him wherever she could and was rewarded with his groans and fast approaching orgasm. There was no way Sakura was letting this become a once-a-year thing anymore. She wanted this forever. She needed him. “Kakashi…” Did she just…? It didn’t matter, his orgasm was ripping through his body and he was helpless to focus on anything else. Her sudden need to cause him physical distress didn’t bother him – he already had too many scars, anyway. It was a form of masochism and he wondered, as he spilled into her and screamed his release, if she would be up to donning the master title if they ever took this to the bedroom. He could be a very good slave. Fantasies drifted away from him as reality sunk in and he pressed the full length of his body against hers, his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her unique scent. It never failed to do him in. But this, whatever it was, needed to either stop or become something more. Sakura was the first to move and adjust her clothing. He stood there, his dick hanging out and unabashed about it, and watched her tuck her knickers back into place. “I won’t wait much longer,” she said enigmatically before turning away from him. Did she realise she’d called out his name? Sakura sashayed away from him. He watched her hips as she went. And narrowed his eyes at her. Yes. She knew. .

Sakura pressed a hand to Bull’s head as the dog stared at her blankly. Kakashi’s ninken was warm to the touch, unlike the man in question. He’d been so cold with her, except for those nights. The annual celebrations had become her ritual too, not just his. One night to forget who she really was, who she was supposed to be. To put her troubles aside and just feel again.

But her time of mourning was over. Even if she did occasionally flit between this fact and her self-pitying thoughts in her head.

Kurenai watched her quietly. As the only person Sakura had confided in, regarding her feelings for Kakashi, she was also a very good listener. The older woman didn’t know they fucked once a year, but she knew more than anyone else.

Sakura removed her hand from Bull and returned it to the brush she’d been using.

“You should ask him out.”

“He deserves better.”

“Maybe you are that better,” Kurenai said, smiling at Sakura’s snort of derision. “Just because Sasuke didn’t have the good taste to like you back doesn’t mean you’re not good enough for anyone else.”

Sakura stilled, the hand brushing Bull now shaking slightly. Sasuke had done more than just not like her back, but Kurenai didn’t know that so she forced herself to keep brushing. The repetitive motion was cathartic, and she took a deep breath, finding herself calming as she inhaled the lingering scent of Kakashi that all his ninken had.

“This isn’t about Sasuke,” she said.

Kurenai sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She stood up. “Need anything, kiddo? I’m heading to the cafeteria.”

“No.”

“Mummy!”

Sakura watched as Mirai came running in and jumped at her mother. She paused in brushing Bull to smile and take in the wholesome moment of the two talking animatedly as they slowly made their way out of the room. She knew that she and Kakashi deserved their shot. She was just so used to waiting a whole year that Sakura sometimes forgot that he was waiting for her, too.

She smiled and returned to her chore. The dogs got weekly baths from Kakashi – one of the few things he wasn’t lazy about was his ninken – so they didn’t need the pinkette to fuss over them. But they seemed to enjoy it so she kept at it. It had been a whole year since she’d first walked into this place. She’d done it to have an excuse to spend more time near Kakashi. Even though the man in question wasn’t here right now, she still did it.

Avoiding this place for her own personal reasons were no longer necessary. She could move on.

“Next?” She asked, when done with Bull. He reluctantly moved away and Guruko bounded up to her, his tail wagging in anticipation.

It was over an hour before Kurenai returned, glowing with happiness while apologetic for how long she took. Sakura simply waved her concerns away. She’d finished the grooming herself and was content to sit back and watch as the kids played with Kakashi’s ninken. The dogs were so sweet to let them pull on their ears and snuggle, the way they did. The kids adored them.

Shiba started telling them a story about how he saved Kakashi from an evil ninja by biting his bum. It had the kids in giggle fits and the other ninken rolling their eyes. Sakura knew, because she’d been there, just how embellished this story was – though Shiba had indeed bitten a rogue ninja who was about to skewer Kakashi, it hadn’t been on his arse.

“Reminds me of the good old days,” Kurenai said, interrupting her thoughts and giving Sakura a cheeky smile. “Asuma and Kakashi would argue over who had the best stories and both of them always embellished.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, they were such polar opposites in so many ways.” Kurenai lost her smile and stared off into one of the adjoining rooms, where Sakura assumed Mirai was playing with the art supplies (she always did that instead of joining the time with the dogs, like she was trying to hog them; it was cute).

The older woman sighed. “One related to a Hokage and rejecting that connection, the other Hokage material who’d take the role readily, even though it never appealed to him.”

Sakura fingered the hem of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s still griping at Tsunade for being named the sixth Hokage.”

“Who was it that really put him forth for Hokage?” Kurenai asked, teasingly. Tsunade liked making fun of the now-Hokage for not liking his position but it was clear to everyone (except Kakashi, it seemed) that the blonde had had nothing to do with it.

Sakura looked away from her, her face tinging pink. It hadn’t been until his inauguration that she found out he hadn’t actually wanted the position. Why must he hide his feelings so much? “I did.”

.:.

He left her a message to meet him at his favourite drinking spot. It was a place with a similar look to it as Ichiraku, except it sold alcohol – to shinobi only. Her shishou also knew about it and Tsunade raved about the place – it was apparently a new stall set up in the last few months. It was called Shochu, or something like that. Sakura glanced up at the sign before ducking under the flap, half expecting to see Teuchi and Ayame; it was that similar to Ichiraku.

“Welcome!” The owner beamed at her; his eyes squinted closed as a genuine smile graced his battered face. “What’ll you have?”

She glanced at the menu. They also sold Onigiri sandwiches and Renkon chips which made her mouth water just looking at. Sakura decided to splurge, since she’d arrived on time and Kakashi was bound to be late, even to this.

She swallowed nervously. Whatever this was.

“A bowl of Renkon chips and Amazu sauce,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “No drinks, please.”

“Coming right up! Oh…”

Sakura frowned at him as the man’s eyes opened and widened. He grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“Uh…”

“The name’s Kohaku.” If possible, his grin only widened. “And you’re Sakura Haruno. The beautiful pink haired kunoichi with a dazzling smile.”

“Uh…” She felt her face warm.

“Lunch has been paid for,” he continued. “By a secret admirer.” He handed her a note. “He also said to open this only when you’re done eating. Oh, and I’m adding a sparkly to your order. You’ll need it.”

He winked at her and she palmed her face, embarrassed. Did Kakashi set this up? And why?

As Kohaku got started on her order, Sakura fingered the note, feeling Kakashi’s chakra embedded into it. Her heart was fluttering, and she squirmed in her seat. She hadn’t realised he had a romantic side. But why lunch here? And why alone?

“Sakura?”

Her head snapped around at the other patron, not realising until now that she wasn’t alone.

It was Yamato.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating.”

He grinned, holding up a beer. “Drinking.”

“Damn you, Kakashi,” she whispered.

Yamato frowned. “Yes, he said he was joining me for lunch this time. Even told me to tell you it’s his treat for all those times you paid.”

He burped loudly and Sakura realised he was already drunk.

Yamato seemed kind of bummed out, too. She also just noticed he had a few glasses of sake next to him, too; the beer had run out. Downing another glass before turning back to Sakura, he side-eyed her, like she was the one responsible for all his problems. “Are you just going to sit there sulking all day or is there something you need of me, senpai?”

“Senpai?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his vision clearly becoming impaired. He thought she was Kakashi, maybe? The wood style user was beyond drunk, it seemed. And in the middle of the day! She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he’d been like this since the war and she’d just not noticed. Shame filled her and she made a mental note to get the hospital psychiatrist to track him down.

Just to talk.

Or strap him down then talk, as he’s likely to be stubborn about it.

Yamato shook his head. “Oh, it’s not him. It’s you.” He patted the stool next to him. “Sit, I don’t bite my teammates.”

Sakura wasn’t convinced.

He sighed. “Lady Tsunade told me to kep… I mean keep an eye on Kakashi. He was supposed to be here drinking but in-instead I got you.” He patted the stool again. “Sit, blossom tree. Sit.”

He had to be harmless when drunk. Sighing, Sakura got off her stool and instead sat down next to him, grudgingly. “She mentions he’s over drinking.”

“No, he hasn’t. But I have.”

She sighed again. “That’s what I meant.”

Yamato just shrugged and loudly ordered a bottle of sake and another glass.

“I’m not drinking with you.”

Yamato swayed and shook his glass in her face. “Who said it was for you?”

She didn’t need this. “I’m going.”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no! I’ll behave!”

Sakura was half-way off her stool when Yamato grabbed her hands and pouted at her. She sat back down to avoid making things worse and he brightened up, humming and grinning when the sake bottle and glass arrived. He slid the glass to her and, unsurprised, she accepted as he poured her shishou’s favourite drink into it. But she didn’t drink.

They waited in silence and Sakura eagerly accepted her food when Kohaku handed it over, complete with a smile and twinkle of his very white teeth. Maybe he was related to Gai sensei?

Yamato watched her closely as she ate, then darted his eyes away when she glared at him. He kept throwing her weird looks but waited until she was done and had the bottle of bubbly in her hand before asking, “so, what’s got you looking f-for drinksies?”

“I was looking for…”

Him.

They’d been shagging on the alliance celebrations for five years now and she knew very well that he knew very well who she was the entire time. Talking with Kurenai about moving on and finally being able to put Sasuke behind her, she felt different. Like she was coming out of a black haze of morosity that had been engulfing her and Sakura was finally waking up. Giving into Kakashi every year and spending the rest of the twelve months pretending nothing happened had broken her more than she realised.

And now.

Now she wanted her life back. Kakashi was a loose end that needed to either be severed or restitched. She knew which one she would choose, so the resolution to this weird tryst would depend on what he wanted from her.

Why does my love life always have to be in the hands of others?

Yamato made a grumbling noise, breaking her thoughts and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch.

"What?"

He slammed the drink down on the counter and eyed her suspiciously. "I s-saaaaid, he has a fuck bu-buddy."

Sakura sighed, nursing her drink and wishing she didn’t have to deal with this; she didn’t really want to hear about how Kakashi had found himself a new piece of arse and how his friends were so happy for him. She knew very well that she was the piece of arse and didn’t want to know all the lewd things her sensei had told his friends.

And then it hit her.

She was just another fuck.

She was usable.

She was recyclable and replaceable.

She was disposable.

Sakura had never pictured Kakashi having a sex life – the man was so reserved; she’d begun to think his only lover was those Icha Icha books of Jiraiya’s. It was why she’d been surprised the aloof man had instigated their trysts. How often did he sleep around? She felt her stomach twist at that thought.

Am I just another toy? Is that why he’s been so reluctant to reveal himself? Is he ashamed?

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. This was ridiculous. A drunken comment from her former taichou didn’t determine her worth to Kakashi.

“Some of the guys thought he was gay or asexual for a long time,” Yamato went on, and the pinkette found herself frozen on the spot; her body rigid and the drink getting warm in her hand. “Not that there’d be anything wrong with th-that, you… you judgy… uh, thing.” He gave her the stink eye.

The wood style user balked for a moment, as though he was about to vomit in front of her, but then seemed to get a hold of himself, throwing back another shot and coughing loudly. “Uh… that smarts.” He wiped his mouth. “Where was I… oh yeah, turns out Kakashi-senpai has a fuck buddy.”

Yamato spun around on his stool and stopped after the second spin, peering closely at Sakura. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Hm.” She found her voice only to clamp her mouth shut.

“Well anyway,” Yamato went on, indicating to Kohaku.

But the older man shook his head. “You’ve tapped out.”

“Whaaa?!” Yamato grabbed his bottle and Kohaku swiped it out of his hand.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No more for you. I told you only three bottles.”

Yamato pouted but it got him nowhere. He turned on the stool, looking like he was going to stumble away, but he didn’t budge.

“Sakura?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why does Kakashi-senpai get to find someone special and I d-don’t?”

“Special?”

He nodded. “Wants to spend his life with her. ‘Fraid he won’t be able to.” He sighed and smacked his lips together. “I want that someone t-too.”

He groaned, turning back to the bar and flopping his head down on it. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

Sakura wasn’t paying attention to him now, sliding off her stool. "I have to go. Sorry!"

Yamato groaned; pushing his glass toward the bemused barkeep, he tapped it, silently demanding more even though Kohaku had just told him no. "Fine!" He yelled, waving his other hand at Sakura's retreating back. "Stick me with the bill like you always do, Kakashi-senpai!"

.:.

The note had very little to say, but it was his chakra that led her on. Sakura ran like the wind. This was a jutsu she’d never heard of and he was so teaching it to her later.

But right now, she needed answers from this adorably annoying man.

It didn’t take her long to realise it was leading her to his apartment.

“My place or yours, next?”

Her desire to get him into a bed had started so long ago. Was he finally relenting? She wanted more than the sex though, so if that was all he was really after…

Stop obsessing.

She slowed down as his apartment loomed in front of her and walked a natural pace up the stairs and to his door. She gasped as he opened the door and Sakura focused on the man in front of her; he looked tired by happy.

Did he really want this?

He smiled but said nothing, clearly waiting for her to start talking.

But Kakashi was averse to blunt confessions. And if she learnt anything from Sasuke she knew that emotionally stunted men – even if they were as emotionally needy as Kakashi – needed a lighter touch. Like a startled animal in the wild she needed to approach with caution.

Play it cool.

“So,” she drawled. “Shochu huh? Couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant?”

He huffed and stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t know, I’ve already eaten.” He raised an eyebrow and she ignored it, continuing. “What other reason could I have to enter your apartment at this time of day?”

He chuckled suddenly, startling her. “You’re not subtle, Sakura.”

She groaned and stormed in. He closed the door and turned to face her, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You sent me the note, Kakashi. The ball’s in your court.”

“Is it?”

She swallowed heavily. How could he look so calm about this? Okay, no more preamble bullshit. She wasn’t going to try (and clearly fail) to be subtle about this anymore. She stepped over to him, palming his chest and smirking as she felt his heart race under her fingertips.

“Sakura?”

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He smiled under his mask and didn’t pull away when she touched it gently.

“But I’d like to see where it takes us.”

Kakashi tugged on the edge of his mask without pulling it down. “I don’t know. You might not like what you see.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Then you won’t see all the good things, Sakura-chan.”

“Drop the chan.” Sakura inhaled deeply; the look on his face, from what she could see, was amusement. “And drop the mask.”

They’d danced around each other enough. She could feel the tension in his body as she pressed against him. He was as worried as she was, just hiding it better.

Indeed, Kakashi felt very little other than trepidation as Sakura demanded he let it go. For five years he’d hidden behind a masquerade to take what he wanted not knowing if it was what he needed. So, he talked a big game, but could he let go of the angst and self-loathing he was so well-known for?

He trembled as her grip became mildly painful. She was determined but scared, her eyes widening slightly as she stubbornly held his gaze. This was so much harder than whispering dirty words in her ear and fucking her warm, writhing body into a non-descript wall. This required courage.

But he needed to do this.

One step at a time.

And the first step was dropping his mask and kissing the woman he loved. Without shaking like some teenage virgin.

But once his face was bare, she took over.

Her mouth was on his and an instant later all the tension left his body. They pulled each other in, gently and lovingly caressing; there had been enough rough fucks, this wasn’t about that. This time they could take it slowly. And do more than just stand against walls. He steered her toward his bed as she started exploring his mouth and finally, he leant into the kiss with no self-pity or angst. Only with hope for the future.

…

#KakaSaku #kakasaku month 2021 #kakasaku month #my fanfiction #fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

ren-c-leyn · 4 years ago

Text

Follower Celebration Story: The Last Masquerade

As promised, here is the short story crafted from the words I received during the submission phase of this celebration. Here is the list of words I received:

Vermillion, blithesome, crowkeeper, whiffle, importunate, burgundy, pearlescent, ingot, bellow, labyrinthine, turquoise x 2, decadent, chair, makeshift, magnet, tug, masquerade, green, soft, couch, snuggle, chocolate, crimson, unsightly, envy, apprehended, and thwart.

Special thanks to @hyba, @whynotwriting, @writer-candy, @anonymouskudoswriteblr, @ashen-crest, and @starry-sky-stuff for submitting these words.

This was a particularly fun one to piece together, and it came together rather quickly after looking the submissions over.

Warnings: There is mention of people drinking wine, a strained family dynamic, but beyond that, I can’t really think of anything to worry about with this one. No one dies, no violence, ect.

Truth be told, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to come. Nothing in the world could have made me accept that invitation, except I didn’t have a choice. Events had aligned perfectly to thwart my plans to stay in the safety and comfort of my own home. Instead, I would be attending that party: a masquerade, yet another poorly masked, importunate attempt to match me again.

I shifted uncomfortably in the carriage, it felt as though an iron ingot had settled in my stomach. The rain fell a little faster, tapping impatiently as the wind began to whiffle past the windows. I stared out at the grounds of my aunt’s manor, the weather matching my gloom. No doubt they’d expect me to be bubbly and blithesome. As happy and charismatic as the turquoise mask long abandoned in the seat beside me.

The carriage rolled past Sam, the ancient crowkeeper. He stared back at me with dead eyes from beneath his makeshift hat as he continued to walk. Sometimes I wondered if he wasn’t a ghost or a ghoul, some creature of the night that still haunts the grounds. Certainly fit the role....

The carriage slowed, rounding the loop around the grand fountain before finally coming to a stop before the doors. I sighed, reaching for the mask. With a tug, I had it snugly secured. The door swung open and I was escorted to the double doors.

The greeting hall was as tacky as I remembered. The burgundy couch, the gold framed paintings, the dark wood floors with the pearlescent vase with wilting flowers trapped within it.... I swear, nothing ever changes.

Willow greeted me in her cheerful manner, chattering excitedly as we stepped into the dark green room from which the rest of the labyrinthine house branched off. She started talking about the flower gardens as we turned to the right. She had just gotten to how the roses were blooming late when we reached the end of the long hallway that led to the ballroom.

“Well, time to announce you.”

No, I wanted to protest. I desperately wanted to hear about the roses and lilies and anything and everything she wanted to talk about. Anything to keep those doors from opening. I tried to open my mouth, but my lips wouldn’t part, it felt as though a magnet were keeping them together.

She pushed the doors open and announced my name in what might as well have been a bellow. I did my best not to flinch, to cringe, to make an unsightly scene of this. It was hard, though. It was so frustratingly difficult to hold my head up and step forward with confidence into the decadent room that smelled thickly of fine wines and expensive chocolates.

A new servant passed by me with a tray of wines. I grabbed a random glass filled with vermilion and wove carefully through the crowd to get to the edge. It took a moment but I found an unoccupied chair to snuggle into and pretend I wasn’t there in. Unfortunately, the rest of the party had no intentions of playing along with me. Least of all my Aunt.

She pranced over to me, her long crimson dress fluttering around her wispy form. If Sam is a ghost, then she’s a vampire. Constantly sucking the life out of me....

“So good of you to come, Erin, darling. Did you have a safe trip?”

I glanced down to the long ignored hound trailing behind her with envy. Oh to be a soft dog that she didn’t even realize was right behind her.... Better yet, to be at home with her no where in sight. What I wouldn’t give....

I tapped my turquoise mask, an idea forming in my mind. She wouldn’t want me in sight, if being in sight hurt her reputation. A smile slowly spread across my face as I spun the tale in my mind. It didn’t really happen, but it didn’t really matter if it did. Just the rumor of scandal would be enough, and if it wasn’t, my dear friend the Duke would probably get a good laugh out of helping me convince everyone that it was. He had always loved a good joke.

I rose my voice a little as I answered. Not loud enough to be awkward or considered rude, but enough that the people around us could hear my tall tale.

“Well... it would have been, had I not been apprehended by the duke’s men. As it turns out, one does not defile his favorite statue and dress it in his bed clothes without receiving at least a slap on the wrist, even if they are a childhood friend.” I paused, a fairly weak scandal as far as they went. It only took a moment to come up with a statement both ambiguous and damning enough to really cause a stir. “I don’t think his wife was pleased with how I got said bed clothes. Which, thinking about it, might be the real reason I got that day in the dungeons and was suddenly released and immediately escorted out.”

Well, that did it. She looked utterly horrified, a gentleman to the left nearly choked on his white wine, and I heard an older lady to my left gasp while the young woman next to her started giggling. This so called news was going to spread like a wildfire.... I made sure to note that apologies were in order the next time I saw Lorraine and James. Surely they’d understand.... Surely they would.

It was the first party where she didn’t complain when I left early. The first time I had come to her manor and not been guilted and browbeaten into staying the night. The first time since I came in age that eligible bachelors and ladies hadn’t been thrown in front of me the entire time I was desperately clinging to my goblet of wine, searching for a graceful way out.

It was also the first time I had seen Sam smile. He took off his hat as I walked out to the carriage, a grin plastered across his weathered face. I grinned back at him and bowed before closing the door behind me.

It was probably going to be my last masquerade, but it was the first time I was coming home from this wretched place happy.

Short story taglist: (feel free to ask to be added or removed)

@nemowritesstuff , @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @kaylewiswrites, @tenacious-scripturient, @ofinkblotsandscript, @mischiefiswritten, @kespada, @inspiring-prompts, @greenwood-writes, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity, @wordshavings

#fiction #fantasy #short story #original story #my writing #a story by Ren #follower celebration story

18 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years ago

Note

sangyao 31 👀

modern AU

Whatever else might be wrong with the Jin, they certainly knew how to throw a party. This little masquerade they had thrown together for young Jin Ling’s birthday was truly extraordinary. The food was both abundant and of the highest quality, the room was illuminated by magical flying lanterns, and the band hired to play for the dancers was one just on the verge of becoming famous enough that in only a few months, everyone present at the party would gloat about having heard them in person.

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with other problems, Nie Huaisang would have been delighted to have secured an invitation to such an event. As it were though, the delicate canapés tasted like ash in his mouth, and the music was at best helping him spy on conversations -or hindering him by drowning some of them.

It didn’t help that the masks everyone wore muffled their voices. Of course the point of a masquerade was to wear masks, but many people were taking it too far, having covered their entire face into animal heads, after hearing that Jin Guangshan himself would be buying his mask from a trendy designer who had used that idea on his last runway. Huaisang supposed he couldn’t complain. He was after all doing the same, and using this be present as someone’s plus one. He doubted the Jins would have let him wander around so easily, if not for the rabbit head he was hiding under. They couldn’t have refused to let him in, not when he was there as Jiang Cheng’s date, but they would probably have tasked someone with following him.

Enjoying the freedom to walk among enemies, Huaisang observed carefully everyone wearing Jin colours, trying to recognise the one person he was looking for. He had never met the man in person, but he had found pictures and was sure he would recognise him if they ended up face to face. If he could just find him…

“My oh my, what an anxious bunny you are, hopping this way and that,” someone said nearby. “Do you need help with something?”

Huaisang had been about to open a small door from which he had seen waiters come and go for a while. After being ignored since he had arrived, he was so startled to be addressed that he jumped in surprise. He turned to see who was speaking to him, and discovered a man wearing a wolf mask, though of a lesser quality than that used by the Jin family and their more prominent guests. There was no doubt that the man was at least somewhat tied to the Jins, though, or he wouldn’t have dared to wear a peony on his breast.

“Bunnies are made for hopping,” Huaisang retorted boldly, his heart fluttering in his chest while he tried to recover from the surprise. “Please mister wolf, don’t attack this little rabbit, he’s just trying to make his way to the restroom, but this place is too easy to get lost in.”

“Guard dog, not wolf,” the other man sighed, pointing at his mask. “So don’t you worry, I have been well trained to leave bunnies alone. I must however tell you that this isn’t the direction of the restroom. But I can tell you where they are, or else…” he hesitated, and even through the mask, Huaisang felt the man look him over. “If this little rabbit is scared to get lost, I can be his guide for a moment?”

Huaisang hesitated. On one hand, he really didn’t want to be hindered by company. On the other hand, he could probably turn this to his advantage, if he tried.

“Aren’t you busy?” Huaisang asked, letting his voice shift to something a little whinier, flirty almost. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, mister guard dog. If you really are that. You look and sound more like a wolf to me.”

The other man only barely hesitated before glancing at the crowd around and leaning toward Huaisang.

“You’d better hope I am a dog and not a wolf. Don’t you know what wolves do to little rabbits?”

In spite of himself, Huaisang shivered, which the other man surely noticed. It wasn’t his fault though. Mister wolf’s voice was just very nice, and in spite of being roughly Huaisang’s size, the man had a presence to him that made him seem more than he was.

“Mister wolf, if you say this then I’ll be scared of following you anywhere!” Huaisang gasped with overacted fear. “After all, aren’t you threatening to eat me now?”

The man glanced behind again, then stepped closer, tilting his head to the side.

“Little bunny, who’s to say you won’t enjoy being eaten?”

Again Huaisang shivered, though this time he didn’t even try to stop himself. This too he could play to his advantage anyway.

“Mister wolf, why don’t you help me to the restroom instead of making such scary threats?” he whined, leaning forward to playfully tap on the wolf’s nose. “This poor little bunny is scared to go alone when there are such dangerous predators around that might harm it.”

Mister wolf chuckled, and nodded.

“Just give me a second to warn that I’ll be gone a moment, and then you’ll have all my attention for a bit, little bunny.”

Huaisang watched as the man went to find the head of the catering team, a middle aged woman wearing the same uninspired domino mask as all the waiters. Mister wolf told her a few words, then quickly returned to Huaisang’s side and started leading him through the crowded room.

“Are you actually working for the Jins?” Huaisang asked, dropping the flirting voice for a bit.

Mister wolf hesitated, but nodded.

“I am. I’m sorry if you thought you were chatting with someone important. I’m actually just an employee.”

There was surprising bitterness to his voice, which Huaisang decided not to remark on, though he might use it later, once the man was a little more relaxed.

“That’s no problem at all. I just don’t want to get you in trouble, mister wolf. You might have better things to do than take care of this little bunny.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just working for them, but not at such a low level that I can’t disappear for a little bit, as long as they know where to find me.”

“And do you often disappear with little bunnies during parties, mister wolf?” Huaisang asked in a low voice, pressing himself against the man’s side while pretending to avoid coming too close to another guest.

“Normally not,” the man admitted. “But since this little bunny seems so eager to meet his fate, who am I to deny it? Ah, this way,” he encouraged, taking the chance to put his hand on Huaisang’s back to guide him.

He did not remove it even when they reached a long, straight corridor, and there was no need for guidance anymore. Huaisang didn’t complain. Even if he hadn’t come here for fun, even if he didn’t know what the man looked like, it was rather nice to be flirted with. He hadn’t had time for it in a while, and he had quite missed it.

They reached the toilet quickly enough. Once there, Huaisang removed his mask, for the pleasure of breathing some fresh air… and also to show mister wolf what he’d been flirting with, in case he stopped being interested. He thought the man startled upon seeing his face, but of course he couldn’t exactly read his expression at the moment.

“Oh, you’re quite pretty,” mister wolf said. “But I don’t think you’re on the list of guests?”

“I’m someone’s last minute plus one,” Huaisang explained, dropping his mask on the side of the lavatory’s counter and bending over to splash some water on his face, angling his body so his ass would be slightly on display without quite being vulgar. “And what, are you saying you know who all the guests are, mister wolf? That doesn’t sound possible.”

“And yet it’s true,” mister wolf chuckled, fiddling with the ties of his own mask to remove it. “It’s part of my job.”

Huaisang had been watching him in the mirror, and almost stopped breathing upon discovering the handsome face of that man. He quickly splashed more cold water on his face, then turned around and leaned back against the counter in an inviting manner.

“So you’re someone a little important then, mister wolf?” he teased, running one hand in his hair to put it back in place after the mask and the water had messed it up. “Ah, I hope I’m not in trouble, since I’m apparently not supposed to be here. Are you going to punish me, mister wolf?”

The other man’s smile turned predatory, though his eyes were not without warmth as he stared a second at Huaisang’s face.

“I don’t know, little bunny, it depends on you,” he said in a low voice.

“Really? How so?” Huaisang asked, batting his eyes innocently, leaning more languorously against the lavatory in silent invitation.

Mister wolf took that invitation, crossing the distance between them and pressing himself against Huaisang. His arms found their way around Huaisang’s waist, who in return threw his own around mister wolf’s neck who smiled at him.

“Do you want to be punished, little bunny?” mister wolf growled.

Instead of answering, Huaisang laughed and pressed their lips together, quickly opening his mouth to let mister wolf devour him.

It hadn’t been his plan at all, but he was glad to have met this handsome wolf.

And now that he’d found him, Huaisang only needed to figure out how he would kill his brother’s murderer without getting caught.

#sangyao #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #I don't know why nhs knows jgy's face but not his voice #let's assume they've never met in person for whatever reason #Anonymous

38 notes · View notes

clansayeed · 4 years ago

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 9: The Arrival

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby, @tayab12, @saratustra4, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @thepotatobleh,

*join the Tag List here!

⥼ Summary ⥽

It's the night of Vlad's masquerade ball, the most prestigious social event a vampire can attend. An entire ballroom full of faces and names every vampire in Europe knows... and apparently Nadya is going to upstage them all.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

A pretty big chunk of their plan relies on the staff of the Tepes Estate being just as snobbish and uppity as the man they serve.

So thankfully at least something is both easily predictable and surprisingly convenient.

Staff all around, and none of them pay the pair of them much mind. Beyond the fact that they get told by more than one footman that “guests really shouldn’t be back in the staff corridors” and receive multiple warnings about how “the Count has ensured all guests for the evening, (said while looking down the biggest snooty nose in all of Prague no less) no matter their prestige, will receive adequate time to sup on the serving staff,” and that they “really shouldn’t be allowing an undisclosed human on the premises but will look the other way this time,” Nadya and Cadence are pretty much left to their own devices.

Which means scurrying out of sight before any lone particularly loyal member of the Tepes household decides to go narc and everything ends up exploding in their faces anyway.

Because there’s no way on earth these full-face masques of theirs are providing any damage cover should their plans go KABOOM!

Nadya casts another look up at Cadence as they come across their umpteenth fork in the road. Watching him decide between right or left is starting to feel as nerve-wracking as actually choosing which direction they ought to go.

“You’re sure you know where we are?” You’re sure you know we’re going the right way?

“I’m starting to feel like you have less than zero faith in me, Nadya.” He probably thinks the glance down her way is a reassuring one. But the masque over his face is almost too neutral. It’s just a mask but it feels like it’s trying too hard, you know?

“That’s not it at all. This place is just…” A lot.

He barely remembers to reach back and take her by the hand before he chooses left in a hurry. Who knows how much time they’ve wasted just trying to find their way through this seemingly endless castle.

“It takes me a moment to recall the map Serafine showed me before we left, but I’m… ninety percent sure I know exactly where we are.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“Is trying to keep an ear out for party noises. So if you’ll zip it, thank you.”

Admittedly Nadya would have a lot more faith in this plan if it wasn’t just the pair of them, proven stumbling disasters that they are, relying on the apparently flawless memory of a man who literally introduces himself as ‘the one with amnesia.’ She understands the rationale behind it, just as she understands the rationale behind everybody else going through the front door like an entourage of normal party-goers. They have three prestigious faces and what Jax and Lily lack in clout they make up for in being practically invisible as nobodies to this upper echelon of attendees.

But shoving the two bigwigs of their gang — well, the most recognizable face in any room of vampires and the obviously human girl losing her freakin’ mind amid a cluster of the heartbeat-less undead — through the staff entrance with nothing more than simple masks to disguise them and trusting them not to mess up finding their way among the rest in time for some famed big reveal they still don’t know the full-on details of…?

Well if they live through this long enough to chronicle this part of their journey, nobody is ever allowed to even so much as imply via metaphor that Nadya never trusted her friends wholly and completely.

Actually if they’re talking about chronicling stuff, better they leave these more vague and improvised parts of their master quest to the footnotes. That way they can pretend they knew what they were doing the whole time.

For example Nadya isn’t gonna let anyone write down that she got so wrapped up in her thoughts about what may or may not get written down that she walked face-first into a brick wall.

OW.

Not a brick wall, actually.

Cadence turns around and catches Nadya’s mask just before it falls and shatters on the ground. Thank you vampire super-speed.

“Are you okay?” He asks, wide-eyed and worried, hesitant to give her back her disguise to take stock of how she really looks.

That’s such a loaded question though, so Nadya ignores it and rubs the redness on her forehead instead.

“Why’d you stop?”

The vampire takes a moment to look up and down either end of the corridor and even around the next corner. When he’s satisfied they’re alone he pries his own mask off with a groan; practically peeling his flattened hair from where its been stuck to his forehead the moment he put the darn thing on.

“Because,” with pursed lips he blows his fringe out of his eyes, “I’ve been talking this entire time… and even when I ramble you usually have some two cents or other to pitch in.”

That’s fair. Nadya takes back her mask with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“That much is obvious. Care to share?”

“Not really. Care to keep going?” Not like they’re exactly full of free time, here.

He sweeps his arm in an after you motion, but keeps pace with Nadya’s shorter stride. “I can hear the string quartet by now. We’re close, but they haven’t begun the announcements Serafine told me to wait for.” So maybe they have a bit of free time. Got it.

Only now she can’t stop thinking about what will be on the other side of the big grand ballroom doors.

And Nadya without her set of note cards to at least help her through her dumb speech all because her dumb dress has no dumb pockets.

“You know I still don’t get why they wouldn’t budge about you not being discovered.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Cadence says with a shrug; and actually now that he points it out…

“No, I don’t.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know exactly why she says it that way, either. It’s not the first time they’ve had this talk. Probably won’t be the last either.

His sigh sags from his shoulders to his fingertips. “‘Surprise warmonger back from the dead’ might accidentally eclipse ‘reincarnation of the vampire Goddess.’ Can’t have that, now can we.”

“Cadence.”

“Nadya.”

They turn another corner in complete silence. Nadya’s ears strain to hear this quartet of his but nope, not close enough for her poor human ears quite yet.

Finally Cadence seems to decide on something. Gathering himself up all the way to his full height while fiddling with the porcelain in his grasp. “Actually… Serafine and Kamilah gave me the option. When they talked about prestige all this week it was largely assuming I might be able to pretend just enough to add to their collective fame. But they gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to try.”

“And you said no.”

“Of course I said no. I don’t envy you, Nadya. You have to do this regardless of whether or not you want to. But for the first time it feels like I’m not in that position, and I want to take full advantage of it.”

His face falls, voice going somber. “Surely you can see why.”

She can. She did, in the flesh, and while he’d been useful at the time she can still close her eyes and remember how easily Cynbel had threatened Jax, hurt Adrian and Serafine; how callous he’d been with her life even though she’d agreed with him at the time… Not to mention all the implied things that come with Serafine, always calm and cool and collected, losing her freakin’ marbles every time he ended up a part of the conversation.

He continues. “I don’t think I could have pretended to be him if my life depended on it. And if you think about it, your life does depend on it in a way. I couldn’t risk you like that. Not after how kind you’ve been to me.”

Her fingers brush over his arm. Cadence either takes it the wrong way or chooses to give a purpose to something so small; he bends his elbow and lets her arm slide into his like a proper escort to a proper ball.

“A lot of people’s lives depend on me pretending to…” Nadya can’t quite say it though, so she swallows it down. “I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do when we get there.”

“Understandably.”

“Seriously,” offering him a wry and dry smile, “that’s all the advice you’ve got?”

He mulls it over for a good and proper think. The effort is more than appreciated even if it doesn’t actually yield results. At least this way she gets to vent it out before messing up royally when the time comes.

Cadence stops first — their linked arms jerk her back and to turn and face him. “I wouldn’t call it advice, per se,” gee—great, “but maybe we both suck at pretending because we ought to be accepting, instead. Accepting who we… were. Possibly, in your case. That way we still have the chance to move on.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but Nadya can’t help the way her nose scrunches up slightly.

“I don’t think that applies to this case, Cade.”

“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.” And that makes the pair of them laugh, no matter how weakly. Something neither of them knew they needed, nor how badly they needed it.

It doesn’t last long… but it doesn’t need to.

“You’ll figure it out when the time comes Nadya. You usually do.”

Usually.

In wordless agreement she and Cadence don their pretend masques with mutual reluctance. At least he doesn’t have to breathe in his. But it’s easier this time to see what his face really says beneath that neutral doll-like expression.

She smiles at him in return. Like many things these days they can’t quite see it, but the feeling is there.

When they get close enough that Nadya’s ears no longer strain to catch the occasional tittering laughter or melodramatic voice, Cadence diverts them yet again. This time for a staircase he just so happens to catch sight of out of the corner of his eye.

He keeps her close; closer than before. Practically hovering over her like a shadow less than a step behind her the whole way up. She pauses when he pauses, she waits when he waits, and trusts him enough to know her faith isn’t misplaced but some explanation would be swell any time he’s feeling his usual chatty self.

Crouched close to the ground (which is a feat for him, for her not so much) Cadence crooks a finger at Nadya to join him in inching steps along the carpet towards the railing overlooking the main foyer below.

Nadya is, understandably, hesitant. “What if someone sees us?” What if someone smells me, hears me, all-of-the-aboves me?

“Same principle as before.”

“Keep close and your blood will cover me up?”

He nods. Not like she really has any other choice. Well, that and the more snatches of conversation she plucks from thin air the more curious she is.

And when has her curiosity ever not won out?

Cadence’s cloak comes heavy around her other shoulder and all but smothers her. She grabs the edge and pulls it tight while making sure not to jostle it from his shoulders. For some reason she can’t shake the feeling like she’s hiding behind a curtain with her feet sticking out underneath.

But they’re here, so they might as well take advantage of it. So Nadya joins him in peering through the stone balusters to the hustle and bustle happening below.

The foyer had been beautiful already during her visit with Serafine and Jax the other night — Nadya would even go so far as to assume it was nearly completed. That assumption would have been vastly incorrect.

It’s not her contacts; she’s not seeing double. Every bauble and ribbon and glittering glassy gem brought along the entire family. There’s practically no surface without something shiny added in some form or another, and in many cases that shiny thing has a shiny thing has a shiny thing of its own on top.

On their own the decorations probably look gaudy and too-much. But when you fill the room with graceful vampires all dolled up in unique fashions and splendors everything else is lost in the background. Tasteful would probably have ended up the equivalent of a fifty-buck Party Town Supply budget. So at least the Count knows his audience.

She should be looking for their friends… and she is. But Nadya tells herself it’s being a good and thorough secret agent to observe all the other guests along the way. Two birds and all that. But it’s not easy to just sweep her eyes over the assembled masses in search of a few key faces. Not when each masque is a face all its own.

You’d think there are only so many combinations of colors, designs, and styles to make before they start getting repetitive. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. She gets it now, seeing everything and everyone from way up high and afar like this. The importance of not just the masque itself, but having the right kind of masque above everything else.

Masquerade balls are about hiding and blending in; being just another face in the crowd.

Les Visages de la Gloire is the exact opposite. And even that feels like the most watered-down way to put it she can think of.

A gentle weight falls on Nadya’s back and she shudders a gasp. When had she stopped breathing? Not for fear of being caught, but at the beauty of it all that could only be described as—literally—breathtaking.

Faceless in their full face-coverings and headdresses each more ostentatious than the last; not important enough to show who they are but still in competition with each other — still with deeds to announce and reputations to uphold. Half-masks covering the left side, the right side, the top of one and the bottom of another and all of them made uniquely for a single soul and nobody else.

Some vampires have masques that match their costumes. Others clash in a way that can’t be anything other than on purpose. Even from a distance Nadya can see the difference between carefully crafted metalwork and porcelain painted with glossy lacquer; can compare wood carvings with rich varnish and contrast that with the vast rainbow of matte colors on terracotta. Most are adorned with embellishments and jewels heavy enough to make her neck hurt just by looking at them.

Nearly all take full advantage of the fact their wearers won’t end up suffocating on the other side.

And I’m supposed to show them all up without so much as a sheer ribbon over my eyes? Yeah, Nadya’s confidence takes a knife to the gut just thinking about it.

“Over there.”

Not like Cadence’s finger isn’t pointing down to a massive crowd or anything, but that’s exactly the point — forgive the pun.

Though they can’t quite see double doors leading inside the castle from the exterior from their hiding spot, the sudden hush that falls over the idle crowd offers up an equally dramatic entrance.

It’s the kind of arrival that would be filmed in slow-motion. The kind that pans up from the purposeful echo of each expensive step; dragging over the exquisite details of their costumes in one long smooth glide all the way to the big reveal. And what a reveal it is.

Kamilah’s spindly masque may be made of steel but it curls over her sharp features with all the grace of a silken thread. It’s a face covering by only the thinnest margin of definition, with too many gaps in the framework to even pretend to conceal her identity. But after taking in the rest of the crowd… it’s obvious she’s the kind of face — the kind of presence — that simply can’t go unrecognized.

Everything about Kamilah, from her posture to her raised chin to her not-at-all-faked aura of superiority, demands recognition.

On the surface she’s the woman that Nadya knows; that she trusts and cares about so so much. But look beneath, something all too easy to do — like sweeping aside a mist, it’s impossible to miss how she’s so much more.

The Bloodqueen has arrived. And the entire foyer is speechless before her.

Without even moving a muscle the closest groups stagger back several more steps. Dozens of them nearly tripping over themselves and each other in their haste.

It’s no surprise that the space is quickly taken up by the two figures flanking Kamilah’s sides.

Serafine’s masque isn’t so much a mask as it is a scrap of lace just wide enough to earn the collective approval. As if anyone here doesn’t already know who she is regardless. But that’s how she can pull the look off if Nadya is remembering her explanation right.

No one would dare partake in Les Visages without knowing—without introduction—the woman who started it all.

Some final vestiges of their psychic connection tugs Nadya towards her; not physically so much as emotionally. Even without seeing Serafine’s features up close there’s a bittersweet ache in her chest that’s definitely not Nadya’s own.

The vampiress can offer up all the scarlet-lipped smiles she wishes. They are all hollow and fake. The simple act of being here causes Serafine nothing but distress.

And then there was Adrian.

Who, in comparison to Kamilah and Serafine, makes the women nearest him seem positively giddy and gleeful to be here tonight.

He wears his tailored costume perfectly; that wasn’t in doubt. It’s the masque that leaves him stony-faced. Gold rich and dark that catches every little flame on the chandelier over his head that covers his eyes but can’t hide the tension wracking his jaw.

He and Kamilah both wear near-identical rich crimson garnets inlaid just beneath their masque’s right eye. Shared stones for a shared Maker. But along his edges are thin metal spires, short but wicked sharp, that vary from the same gold, to steel, to a coppery hue.

A second glance confirms Nadya’s suspicions; Adrian isn’t the only one with those kinds of embellishments along the edges of their masques. Scouring a few of them from the crowd, the way they carry themselves and mirror Adrian’s ramrod-straight posture answers a question she didn’t know she needed to ask.

If the garnet labels him and Kamilah both as Turned by Gaius, then the spikes are the mark of the soldier. Any soldier; but one worth recognition for their service.

Which is everything Adrian doesn’t want. Everything he had worried over, and was working now towards overcoming in the wake of his past.

Nadya ducks her head hastily to catch her tear before it falls. Thankfully she’s quick enough. If only she could wipe away the reason for it just as easily.

Pull yourself together, girl, she scolds, and it’s just enough to do the trick and pull Nadya’s focus back to everything around them. All the stillness and nothingness and the way a room full of the undead hold their collective unnecessary breath waiting for what will happen next.

Which is exactly the kind of attention-grabbing showstopper the three of them are supposed to be. All eyes turned on the prestigious trio they are together, and away from Nadya and Cadence one floor above.

All focus on who they are, why they’ve come, what they will do; and away from the practically invisible dynamic duo that slips through the crowd towards the closed ballroom doors.

Behind her, Cadence lets out an impressed little “hah” when he finally manages to pick Lily and Jax out of the crowd. “I completely missed them. Did you see them sneak in?”

“No,” answers Nadya, but that’s actually a good thing. That was the whole point.

Without a word Kamilah takes one step forward. Her aura of command acts like an invisible shield that parts the rest; holding them at a respectable distance.

But the sudden shifting of the mass of faces and their masques gets dangerous when it turns right in their direction. If even one wandering eye looks up, they’re done for!

Without a word the vampire pulls Nadya backwards, letting the force of his bulk pull them out of eyesight in the nick of time. That was a little close, huh.

Nadya doesn’t get the chance to thank him though.

The moment she opens her mouth a loud echoing clang rings out below them, followed by the distinct shuffle of something heavy being dragged achingly close to the foyer’s marble floors.

Neither of them needs to risk sneaking a look.

Right on time. The ballroom doors have finally opened, allowing the first wave of prestige to spill forth out to the grand dance floor.

And though the shuffling of boots and sharp tapping of heels fills the vacuum of stunned silence as the attendees start to move, it’s not nearly enough noise to drown out the sudden and familiar exuberant laughter of delight that echoes across every polished surface below. The kind of laughter designed to be projected across adoring crowds; and carefully rehearsed to always seem full of intriguing promise.

What Nadya wouldn’t give to borrow a little of Vlad Tepes’ seemingly endless confidence for her own performance… looming ever-closer and starting to pick up real steam.

“Remember my lovelies! Faceless and no-names, see yourselves inside. New blood and the lucky virginal attendees right beside them!”

Her full-body shiver of discomfort is more than warranted. But Nadya only wishes she could be surprised at his… unsettling word choice.

“I’m suddenly very glad to be up here.”

She snorts at the wide-eyed stare looking out from Cadence’s mask. “You and me both.”

“Yes yes darling, oh you look a treat. And you there — you must tell me the story behind that engraving later, you simply must.” It’s really to their luck and benefit that the Count likes hearing himself talk so much. They can stay far away from the railing and still keep tabs on what gauge of prestige is next to be welcomed into the bal masqué proper.

They just have to wait until everyone—Vlad included—is inside. Everyone but the most prestigious of the lot of them. And when all eyes are (once again) on the Bloodqueen herself… they’ll have no choice but to witness Nadya’s arrival.

Having Kamilah by her side might just give her the kick in the metaphorical pants to do this thing. Not the literal though. There’s no way this practically bleach-white linen getup will survive a boot print, and especially not to the rear end.

Down below there’s a momentary lull; all but shattered by Vlad’s returning laughter now pitched higher than before.

“Why there you are, Serafine! Here I worried I had somehow lost track of your arrival in the excitement.”

His words are followed by two unmistakably wet noises; which Nadya prays are just over-dramatic kisses to her cheeks.

“Surely you jest,” she teases good-naturedly; said with all the humor of someone whose smile can’t possibly reach her eyes, “I see before me you follow the old traditions quite well. Showing the prestigious their due, their arrival witnessed by all who look to them in admiration.”

“Well of course! It makes for the grandest of entrances.”

“Ah, yes,” the elder vampiress croons, “and as the illustrious host yours would be the last, non?”

“Don’t worry darling — I would never claim credit for your centuries of contribution to our dwindling community.”

“Meaning?”

Somehow Nadya just knows Vlad throws his hair back unnecessarily as he laughs again.

“You can enter just before me, of course.”

“Then when, may I ask, might you suggest my blood-kin Adrian and I make our entrance known, old friend?”

Unlike Serafine, who at least pretends to smile while enduring the torture of his conversation, Kamilah’s question is cold and clipped. It rings with all the disinterest of the Kamilah that Nadya had met so long ago — and she’d place good money on the single raised eyebrow hiked high enough to be seen over her masque, too.

But if anyone could render Vlad speechless…

Nadya struggles to hear something, anything, until she catches the faint rustle of stiff and expensive fabric moving with haste. Vlad’s gesture of greeting, no doubt.

Just like she has no doubt that Kamilah and Adrian don’t humor him as long as Serafine has. It certainly explains the flustered, hasty way his next words tumble from his tongue with practically no filter.

“All the best surprises are the ones that sweep one off his feet. My humble gathering of our kind—nay, our family—from the nearest branch to the farthest root is made absolutely resplendent by the honor of your presence!

“Your Majesty, mon cherie —” —a beat, his attention likely shifting to Adrian— “— and Sergeant Adrian Raines, just when I had resigned myself to an evening of only the old and antiquated in renown. Here you stand before me, as handsome as the day we first met.”

Nadya quickly schools her bewildered expression — too long and it might get stuck that way. But that is flirtation if she’s ever heard it. Not good flirtation, but nevertheless.

“Vlad, as… lively… as ever.” Adrian just barely recovers, but now she’s dying to know what he had almost said instead. “Hard to believe it’s been nearly seventy-five years since last we met. Time… flies so quickly.”

“Oh pish posh,” replies the Count, “you wouldn’t know it but for the calendars. My memory of those chiseled features of yours obviously needed a refresh.”

He’s barely finished speaking when he gasps, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Speaking of memory! You’ll have to forgive my fright. As you all know surely, my recollection skills are of world-renown. Yet the sight of you all almost thrust me spiraling into self-doubt.

“And not without good reason! As I could have sworn you — the both of you, that is to say — had… cast aside your former titles.”

It’s just like before. Everything that pops into his head said without a filter all the way up until what he’s saying isn’t as vapid as it was at the start.

It must be so easy to write Vlad Tepes off at first glance. Just look at the public opinion of the guy. Nadya had, she’s humble enough to admit it. But the hard truth is that he is Vlad Tepes; he is Count Dracula.

But whether he’s all the things the myths and legends claim or not it can’t go ignored that he knows what he’s doing (even if it doesn’t seem like it). He knows how to play a crowd, how to stroke an ego. He’s a master of misdirection.

Has nobody pitched a Vegas residency to this guy yet? Seriously?

But if he thinks he’s going to out-wit someone like Kamilah he must have those leather pants on just a little too tight.

She doesn’t address his comment. Brushing it aside proves a much more important point.

“Shall Adrian and I wait patiently here while you and Serafine follow through, then?”

Vlad must be used to playing the ‘host with the most’ card, because he hesitates. But Kamilah wasn’t asking — she was just being polite.

“Yes,” he finally agrees, though surprisingly less strained than Nadya would have expected. “I would not dare nor dream of presuming your prestige. Nor would I separate the grand entrance of the progeny of our King.

“The three of you will have a most celebratory announcement, I give you my word.”

Did she hear that right?

Serafine offers a gentle tittering laugh. “I see no reason why you and I should not enter together, ma puce.”

“We shall.”

Vlad’s words die to the sound of heavy heels across the foyer floor. Too many steps to be one of her friends; but certainly more than enough for them to bring a person across the length of the room to where they are gathered.

Of course something is going wrong. They should have anticipated something going wrong. They had, her brain reminds her, and probably thinks its being helpful by doing so.

She dares to inch just close enough to catch a glimpse down below and spoiler alert — it isn’t helpful at all.

With his head held high, Marc Antony makes a bold statement in taking Kamilah’s hand without it being offered. Then he goes a step further with a half-bow and a kiss pressed to the back — or the ghost of one. He barely manages it before she yanks it from his grasp — in surprise, in anger, that’s not the part that matters.

With everyone fixated on the two oldest vampires in the room, Adrian dares to steal a glance of warning up to the railing. Wide-eyed and with pursed lips, the message when he gives the tiniest shake of his head is clear.

Nadya retreats, practically crab-walking backwards.

Cadence tries to help her sudden shaking panic with an arm over her shoulders. It’s the thought that counts.

“What,” he asks worriedly, “who is it?”

“Antony,” Nadya exhales, and the man goes rigid beside her. “It’s Marc Antony.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #playchoices #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #adrian raines #serafine dupont #jax matsuo #lily spencer #marc antony #oc: cadence smith #vlad tepes #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: new chapter #oblv: bound by destiny ii #; my fics

21 notes · View notes

sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

Text

codename: agent k

✯ pairing: spy!kuroo x reader

✯ genre: flangst

✯ tw: guns, mentions of assassination and organized crime.

✯ summary: you’re a spy trying to capture a mysterious person by the identity of “agent k.” who would’ve thought you’d be catching feelings instead?

✯ inspired by: 特務J (Agent J) - jolin tsai, goodnight n go - ariana grande, my oh my - camilla cabello

✯ nnyeyeahahldalsalsa i feel like a british royal after writing this omggg. and hey, crossover pt. 2! worked really hard on this, so i hope you like it!

Venice, 22:16 CET (GMT+2)

The stench of the rich was never as pungent as this moment right now. Wine glasses caught the twinkling shine of the diamond chandelier above as the people below mingled with one another. Ornate masks decorated with all manner of feathers and rhinestones obscured the identities of the rich elite atendees.

You had to give it to the organizer, the party was sort of fun. You would have definitely joined in, if you hadn’t had a job to do. By the grace of the government’s connections, you had managed to score an invitation. Not without intention of course. You weren’t here to get drunk and bathe in jewels, no.

The Fukurodani Syndicate was a group of organized crime groups that converged into one, taking the name of the original syndicate. They consisted of Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Karasuno. With new leads coming in over the course of several months, the government had reason to believe that one of the leaders of the Syndicate would be here. His name was Agent K, and he would be your target tonight.

“Ah! Marie!” a voice called out from behind you. You did a double take. But you remembered that you were not (Y/N), you were a woman named Marie Sourice.

The invitation you had obtained was addressed to a French businesswoman named Marie Sourice. The real Marie would have no clue that she was invited to the event, much less that someone had gone in her stead.

So you turned around and smiled graciously. The organizer of the event was a stout old man that had a taste for the Venetian arts of mask making. Thus the masquerade theme. Despite all the obscured identities, the man was easily recognizable through his booming voice and his name tag that read “Giovanni.”

“Giovanni!” you called out, doing your best to match a French accent. Giovanni gave you two kisses on the cheek.

“’Ow ‘ave you been, my old friend?” you asked. Giovanni replied with a bubble of laughter and something that couldn’t register in your ear because you were transfixed with the tall figure next to him.

“Meet the son of a good friend of mine.” The figure came to a halt right next to Giovanni. “His name is—”

“Mr. Bakugou Katsuki.” The figure’s voice was deep with a ringing timbre that would suit an opera singer. You eyed his wild black hair. Was this Agent K? Agent K was never really one to disguise himself in any of his little encounters. But the mask and the lavish clothes made it hard to tell. Something warm landed on your hand. This man was kissing your hand.

“Mademoiselle,” he said. Mysterious ebullience danced in his eyes. Perhaps there was more emotion in his face, but his bejeweled mask hid it all. Secrets danced in between the garnets like they did in a sinning man’s heart.

“He works in the IT industry,” Giovanni said. “Who knows, maybe you two could strike up a deal, grow your companies,” he cupped his hands around his lips, “light a new flame.” Giovanni’s show whispering was awkward at best. You flashed both of them a reluctant smile.

Giovanni took a look at his sparkling golden watch that did not go with that mask of his. “Look at the time! My other guests shall be arriving soon.” He turned over to Bakugou.

“Shall I leave you two alone? The music will start at twelve o’clock. I assure you, no Cinderellas will be here.”

“Of course, sir,” Bakugou said.

This man is Agent K, a voice speaks in the back of your mind. But the others tamper it down as reason takes over. Agent K was a fast worker, and any objective of his should be in the process of being fulfilled, or is already fulfilled by now. Was this man just having fun with you? Or was he part of a larger plan?

But time only confirmed your suspicions. He talked exactly like Agent K, he moved exactly like Agent K, he even smelled like Agent K. The same poison that laced Agent K’s words dripped off the ones from this man.

“Miss Sourice?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Bakugou?”

“Have you ever experienced a first love?”

“I—” You catch yourself as you are about to answer. “Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?” Amusement crawls up his face, but there are hints of longing, and perhaps... mourning?

“It was... unlike anything you could ever imagine.”

Your job as a spy was to lie, lie, lie all the way through. But your words dripped in pure candor as old memories came flooding back.

Tokyo, 13:00 JST (GMT+9) 9 years prior

The air was rich with the scent of chocolate and sugar. He set his bag down near the couch and followed the source of the scent to the kitchen. You were stooped over the counter. A tray was set over to the side filled with chocolate covered strawberries drizzled in more chocolate.

“Are you going to eat that?” he asks. He swoops in for the catch, to find himself firmly rebuffed by a swat on the wrist.

“Hands. Off! I. Put. My. Blood. Sweat. And. Tears. Into—” Each word is followed by a fist on his back. He shields his body with his arms from the raining torrent of ruthless punches.

“Ow! Ow! Stop it, you violent woman!” You don’t stop. With each playful punch, you corner him over to the couch, where he collapses in defeat. You sit down next to him and take off your apron.

“You started it!” you said.

“Didn’t I earn it?” Before you know it, he’s suddenly on top of you. His warm breath, mixed with the heating inside the house. draws sweat from your skin. He cocks his head to the side, as if challenging you. Your shoulders rise up from the couch at the provocation, but he pushes them back down to the soft leather ever so easily.

“Miss Second Place,” he whispers, lips oh so close to your ears. You gasp at the reminder of your devastating defeat to him last week during finals. That’s enough. You raise your hips up from under him. But he’s faster and stronger than you. As your knee rises up to kick him, he shoves them down with immense force. He reasserts his position above you.

“Besides, it’s Valentine’s tomorrow,” he says. You sigh. Even if you gave him just one, there would be no guarantee that he would stop at just one.

“One. Just one.” you say. He pulls himself off of you and sashays over to the kitchen. Keeping an eye on him is pointless, but you do have to finish decorating the rest of the strawberries anyways. He makes it a point to exaggerate his gestures and facial expressions. You want to slap him all the same.

He notices your irritated face. “I wasn’t going to give any of them to you,” you say.

“Oh? Then who are they for?”

“People that are not you.” He lets out a groan and puts a hand over his heart.

“I��m hurt,” he complains. You roll your eyes as he buckles to the ground in pain, holding his crotch.

Osaka, 21:00 JST (GMT+9) 8 years prior

The dingy motel’s lights blinked from inside your room. Water dripped down onto the tiled floors as you closed the door. The roar of the torrents of rain enveloped Osaka. Which is what led you to take shelter in this motel for the night.

It seemed a little shady, since the only room you both had been able to get was one with a small queen bed. And that was ok, actually. There was a whimsical feeling about running through the streets in heavy rain, troubles washed away like dirt on the road. What you weren’t keen on was the person that you would be sharing that bed with.

“I call dibs!” he shouted. He dropped his luggage to the ground as you collapsed on the couch. Your wet hair was splayed out on the couch, turning it soggy. Sighing, you got up and decided to make yourself comfortable.

He didn’t take long to shower. Steam came out of the bathroom, shrouding the shirtless figure that walked out of it. A soft white towel rested around his neck, and another sat on his hips.

Six years of volleyball could do wonders to a man’s body. Muscles cultivated from the sport finally found their place in the limelight of your eyes. You could feel your mouth water a bit. A sheen of sweat started forming on your temples.

He saw your reflection in the mirror in front of the bed. “Like what you see?” he asked.

You scoff and roll your eyes as you continue taking your stuff out of the luggage. The bed groans under his weight as he sits down.

“I’ve seen you shirtless a lot of times before,” you said. At least that was true. You think back to bathing together as kids, putting gauze on his chest when he got into a fight. “I’m okay with it, why shouldn’t I be? It doesn’t gross me out.”

There is a loud bang, and now your body is sandwiched between the wall and his body, still dripping with water from the shower. He doesn’t smell any different than usual, but your nose cannot help but pick up the soft tangs that make up his scent. Sweat. Grilled salted mackerel pike that he loved so much. The orange flavored hotel soap.

Common sense is screaming for you to keep your eyes on his, but the wonder that is his body after puberty lures you in deeply. His smoldering gaze locks you in place in between his arms.

“Do you not see me as a man?”

The question is short, but it encapsulates everything going on between you two. “Am i still the kid that pushed you off your bike back in 2nd grade? You still see me as a kid?”

Did you? A small inkling inside of you said yes — the same part that would cry when pushed over the edge and still couldn’t fend for herself. He would forever be the bumbling kid that knew no better to that part of you. The other voice said the opposite. You could only stare blankly at him as your heartbeat got faster every second.

“Would you like for me to see you as a man?” you asked. He cocked his head to the side.

“Yes.” No one dared move an inch. The atmosphere was Pandora’s box, ready to be opened and the evil inside unleashed.

He lowered his head so that his lips were on the same level as yours. His breath tickled your nose. “May I?” he asked.

Without giving him an answer, you pressed your lips onto his.

Venice, 23:34 CET (GMT+2)

“Shall we dance?” he asks.

He’s cunning, not even giving you anytime to think. He’s pinched you in between the incoming stream of guests. Either you’re forced to carry out this twisted dance with him, or risk losing all your leads on him.

“Why of course, I love to dance!” You swear your brain is on autopilot right now. His hands are suddenly on your waist and shoulder. The music starts.

The light of the chandelier reflects red figures on his face from the garnets on his mask. His smile and eyes are the only windows to his mind, and even those are kept shut with a lock of mischievousness.

The conductor raises his baton. Like a well-oiled machine, the dance floor becomes alive. It’s a dizzying array of whisks, twists, and turns. Fortunately, this Kozume man has enough grace to keep both of you on your feet.

“And who is this acquaintance, lucky enough to grace the heart of a man like you?”

“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

That was all it took for you to confirm everything about this man. It was Agent K in the flesh, no doubt. He flashes you a smile from under his mask. To the sane person, it would simply look like a normal smile, but after years of running after Agent K.... you were sure that debonair smile belonged to him.

Making you feel like you have him cornered, then disappearing again. It’s a reiterating game of cat and mouse. You swore to yourself that you would end it tonight.

The music’s tempo changes. You’re suddenly thrust into the arms of another man in a mask. Agent K is just a few feet away from you, a new woman in his grasp. He shoots you a glance before continuing his dance.

But the trills of a flute breaks the silence, and he’s disappeared from the room. Classic Agent K. The woman that was his dance partner also looks around in confusion, but she is quickly distracted by what seems to be her third bottle of wine of the night. You swear you spot Agent K’s garnet encrusted mask on the other side of the room. But the cellos play their euphony again, and Agent K is gone.

You mutter a few apologies to your dance partner and stalk off. Agent K’s coattails flap in the wind as he turns a corner. His footsteps reverb against the wooden walls. They turn silent as he treads over the velvet carpets.

No one is in vicinity by now. The cheerful chatter was left behind in the ballroom, as your target leads you up a winding staircase. Whistling noises come from several flights above you. He knows you are here.

Paintings on the wall stare at you accusingly. Their eyes on you only accentuate the adrenaline that is building up in your bloodstream. You pay them no mind and fix your eyes on Agent K’s ascending figure.

The creak of a door alerts you to his sudden movement. Is he escaping into a room? But a gust of cold wind and the sounds of the city welcome you to the rooftop of the building.

The only source of light was a dingy bulb covered by moth eggs. You could barely make out his figure in the dark, but his spiky black hair meant that that was definitely Agent K.

No one was on the rooftop at this time of night. It was just you and him then. This was your chance.

The original plan was to slip something in his drink, but you knew from experience that he would never fall for that. You glance at the city, sound asleep below. Traffic lights blink here and there. The perfect opportunity. A simple push from this height would do it.

“So we meet again,” he said. You take the high heels off your feet and stalk over towards him. He’s leaning over the railing, head on the edge like he’s tired but still wants to enjoy the scenery. He makes no sudden moves of attack. You assume the same position, cupping your head in your hands.

“What does Bokuto want from me this time?” Bokuto was one of the leaders of the Fukurodani Syndicate, and a childhood friend of Agent K. The one that created it all. And the one you would have to take out after you took Agent K out.

“Must we burden our enemies every time we meet?” Agent K turned around to meet your eyes. His fingers ran over the smooth stone of the railing. “That crazy owl doesn’t want anything this time. He just wants me to get to you before Ushiwaka or Oikawa do.”

You raised an eyebrow before rolling your eyes. “Pssh. Hurry up and kill me.” To emphasize your point, you put your hands up in mock surrender.

Agent K smirked before moving closer to you. The lock of hair in your eyes, brought there by the wind, was moved to the side by his gloved fingers. The garnet mask that was the only barrier between a huge lead and potential failure stood tantalizingly before you. You had half a heart to tear it off his face. No. You needed to draw this out.

“Not before I indulge in a conversation with the subject of my affections.” Classic Agent K. Agent of Mischief both in and out of the bedroom, they said. You tilted your head to the side.

“Quite the suave man, aren’t you?”

His laughter was a boyish chuckle that did wonders to his usually intimidating face. He had a dimple on his left side, you noticed. What fun were you having, fraternizing with the enemy. But you couldn’t seem to pull away from him.

“I do enjoy thinking of my self as such, my lady,” he replied. You folded your hands over your chest.

“How many women have snuggled their way into your bed with that silver tongue of yours?”

It was an open secret that he was a ladies man, the rumors only being more and more obvious as he was spotted at the many red light districts he was spotted at.

“None.” Well that was new. He could be lying, though.

“Then... how many women do you intend to court with your smooth words?”

“Just one, sweetheart.” The words rolled off his tongue like they were made to be said by him, and only him.

“And who might that be?”

“You. Miss (Y/N) (L/N)” You scoff. No way were you about to be put on that long list of women. You walked closer to him.

“As if. When you manage to kill me, and thwart the—” Agent K was chuckling as you rambled on, trying to prolong the interaction. He put a finger over your lips.

“That is merely a misbegotten attempt to humiliate the both of us. Does it really look like that from the sidelines?”

What? This was Agent K. Known for his ability in twisting, turning, and confusing the hell out of his enemies. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Humiliate? I— what else would it be?”

“Well,” he peeled his mask back, “being sent out to eliminate your first love isn’t quite a job for the lily-livered, isn’t it?”

Under the mask, there was the familiar mischievous smile, the observant eyes, and the same smirk from years ago. He discarded the garnet mask over the railing.

“Kuroo?” The sheer shock at his revelation was enough to send you stumbling back. “You’re... Agent K?”

"I wouldn’t be anyone else, darling.”

Hands reach out from behind you to find something to hold on to. The knot in your stomach has only gotten tighter and tighter since this whole ordeal started. You don’t know how to process the feelings racing through your heart right now. How could he? Leave you all those years, then come back to you like this? How dare he? But the sounds of the party are coming closer and closer to the rooftop, and a police siren is wailing down below. Kuroo notices it too.

“I do hope that we can meet again, under, ah,” he adjusted his gloves, “more appropriate circumstances.”

“Until then,” he said. He inched his body closer to yours. The scent of old wine and cologne clung to his body. Kuroo pressed his lips onto your forehead. “goodnight, little angel.”

He tips his lanky body ever so close to the edge of the building, before succumbing to the effects of gravity. Strangely enough, you find yourself reaching out to him. His name on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out.

The wind whips through his hair as he falls through the night air. Then suddenly, he’s not there anymore. The roar of a helicopter from above indicates Kuroo’s savior has come. Kuroo’s suit clad figure hangs from a dangling ladder below the aircraft. He catches your eye for a moment. A gallant smile graces his lips, but it strikes you as rather...disingenuous.

Kuroo climbs up the ladder and disappears inside the helicopter. The blinking lights fade into the stars above as the wind leaves your lungs. Damn you, Kuroo, you curse in your mind. The fresh air does little to clear the haze in your mind at the situation that just unfolded. Several minutes pass by, with you trying to take deep breaths. You pick up your discarded mask and put it back on. As you leave the roof, you swear his cologne still lingers in your nose.

289 notes · View notes

waywardodysseys · 5 years ago

Text

Masquerade - Oneshot

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x female reader

Warnings: just a jealous Agent Whiskey

Requested?: Yes by @fuckmeharryhart - You're an agent along with Agent Whiskey and you're attending a gala for a mission. Whiskey gets jealous over all the looks you pull from guys and gals how does he handle his jealousy? Btw you're a wonderful writer and get characters just right like wow way to go ^^

Author’s note: this does contain spoilers for Kingsman: The Golden Circle towards the end

~ ~ ~

Ginger walks into the room you’re using to dress for the evening. You are helping Whiskey on a mission at a black-tie formal event at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

“You look gorgeous,” Ginger whispers as she approaches you from behind, while you look in the floor length mirror.

You laugh nervously, “I haven’t dressed this fancy in ages.”

Ginger smiles at you in the reflection of the mirror, “you’ll be fine. Jack’s to meet you there,” she pauses as she hands you a small coms bud, “I’ll be on the coms. Jack has one too.”

“Yeah, Jack,” you utter.

You’ve been with the Statesman for two years, working alongside Tequila yet when Champ had called you to ask a favor to help Whiskey you couldn’t deny your boss.

“I need someone primarily to go with Whiskey, just to keep him under control.” Champ had mentioned to you days prior.

“And there’s no one else?” You had asked, knowing Whiskey’s reputation. Great agent, charming personality, flirty twenty-four seven.

Champ had informed you no one else was available to accompany him and that this mission was not a one-man job. Therefore, reluctantly agreeing to join Whiskey.

“Good. It’s in New York City. I will let him know he’ll have backup,” Champ had smiled through the hologram call.

You had then boarded a plane for N.Y.C. and now here you are dressed in a frilly rose-gold colored ballgown, about to place a mask on your face, and head out for a night out on the town, which technically wasn’t true but it’s how you felt since you hadn’t dressed up for anything in years.

“You’ll be fine,” Ginger remarks as she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope so.” You state as you place the coms bud in your ear and leave.

-------

The limo drops you off and you begin walking the red carpet of the Met Gala. Masks donning people’s faces since this year’s theme was “Masquerade.” Multitudes of celebrities were decked out in fancy and shimmering costumes along with their own masks – most looked custom made to match their outfits. Photogs and interviewers lined the stairs to the entrance of the Met, waiting for their chance at speaking with the celebrities who were handpicked to attend this special event.

A tall and lanky gentleman approaches you with a black studded Venetian mask, dressed in a tailored tux complete with bow tie. You smell his cologne as you take note of the thin mustache on his upper lip.

“Jack,” you whisper.

“Darlin’,” Jack drawls in his Southern accent.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You two had arrived separately; you were hoping to find him among the bountiful crowd quickly, not get lost in the sea of people.

Jack takes in your dress along with the black lace laser cut Venetian mask adorning your face, “lookin’ beautiful,” he holds his arm out, “shall we?”

You smile politely, “of course.”

Jack escorts you further into the Met and deeper into the party.

When you think of a masquerade your first thought is from the musical The Phantom of Opera. People dancing choreographed dances in big ballgowns. Music filling the air, people intoxicating themselves with rich champagne and hors d’oeuvres. You also thought about secret couples coming to the event, while others were unaware of them, and enjoying a night where they could be together because of the masks.

The vibrant scene unfolds before the two of you as your eyes take in the extravagant decorations – two and three tiered chandeliers along with ribbons of string in various colors hanging from the ceiling, circular tables with white tablecloths and candelabras, other tables packed with towers of food for consumption. Music flows through the area as people mingle with one another.

“The mark has arrived,” Ginger’s soft voice remarks through the coms buds.

Her voice pulls you out of your trance. You remove your hand from the crook of Jack’s arm and begin walking through the throng of people.

Jack watches you disappear into the crowd then makes his way around the horde of people. He swipes a couple decadent chocolate covered strawberries and eats the treat slowly. He savors the taste as his eyes travel through the crowd. He finds perch on a set of stairs, so he’s able to keep an eye on you and the mark.

He watches as you smile and blush when gentlemen approach you. He also takes in how some of the ladies look at you as you walk by. Jack knows you are a beautiful creature, even without all the makeup and the fancy clothes. Something stirs deep inside of Jack. Is it infatuation? Is it, perhaps, jealously?

When he had heard you were accompanying him his heart leapt. He had been sweet on you since you had begun working for Statesman, was upset when Champ partnered you with Tequila instead of him. He pinned after you for two years and he finally got to work with you. And now, other men were asking you to dance instead of him. He reminded himself you two were here for a job first and foremost.

Jack grasps the bannister as he watches a man take your hand and escorts you to the dance floor. He tightens the grip as jealousy makes his blood boil. He wishes he were the one dancing with you. Wishes his hand was on your lower back, wishes it was his hand your hand was holding as he led you across the dance floor. He wanted to know what your body felt like against his, he wanted to feel your soft skin against his. Jack wanted more than a dance, he wanted all of you.

“You okay Jack?” Ginger’s crisp voice questions.

Jack groans, “I’m fine Ginger.”

“Y/N can’t hear us Jack. Your heartrate is elevated along with your blood pressure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jack huffs, “where’s the mark? All these goddamn masks! It’s frustrating!” Along with seeing you dance with a man who isn’t him.

“Our source indicated he’d be wearing a suit with coattails along with a gold Venetian mask with what looks like a harp in the middle then a horse on each side of the harp. He has a red and black rose boutonniere pinned to his suit jacket,” Ginger replies.

Jack’s eyes scan over the crowd. He doesn’t see the mark on the first sweep, but then his eyes travel back to you. “Fuck,” Jack mutters under his breath.

“What?” Ginger asks sharply.

The mark is dancing with Y/N, Jack thinks as he tries to formulate a plan is his mind.

After several beats, Ginger pipes back up, “Jack! What is it?”

“I got this handled Ginger,” Jack sighs heavily, “no worries. I promise.” At least he’ll try to promise himself he has this handled.

Jack slowly makes his way down the staircase. His deep brown eyes remaining on you as you dance with the mark. He takes in your eyes holding the other man’s gaze. His mind racing with questions.

Does she know its him? Does she know she’s dancing with the mark? Is she safe, Jack snorts softly, of course she’s safe, you’re here cowboy.

Jack hears your soft laugh as he approaches you dancing with the gentleman. He sees your eyes catch him, sees the slight shake of your head.

She knows, Jack thinks as he stands frozen. His mind scrambling with thoughts of recusing her and hopefully her thanking him later tonight back at his apartment.

Jack balls his hands into fists. Anger and jealously sweeping throughout his body. He’s been trained to rescue those in help, those in need. And you needed him, you needed his help. “Fuck,” Jack curses under his breath and continues walking towards to you and the mark.

“Excuse me,” Jack drawls sweetly as he taps on the gentleman’s shoulder.

You look at Jack in shock and surprise. You had given a shake of your head, fending him off. You knew the man you were dancing with was the mark. You had clearly heard Ginger in your coms bud giving you a description of the mark a minute before you made sure to walk into his eyesight.

“The lady and I are dancing here,” the mark states. He doesn’t remove his hands from your body.

“You’ve been dancing with her long enough,” Jack hisses quietly. He’s holding himself back from punching the gentleman. “I think it’s time to let someone else have a dance with the beautiful lady.”

The mark stands tall, confident. “The lady hasn’t complained—”

Jack steps forward, nearly getting in the man’s face. “She is tiring of you sir.”

You watch as Jack and the mark stand thisclose and face on another. You never had to deal with Tequila being this…jealous? Was Jack jealous of a man dancing with you? Or was it the fact it was the mark dancing with you and not some civilian?

You clear your throat, “gentlemen. I can handle myself. Thank you very much.” You smile weakly at them as they both turn and look at you. “Besides everything has been taken care of.”

Jack raises a brow. He knows what you are referring to – the tracker. The mark on the other hand just shakes his head.

“Obviously this gentleman wants to dance with you mi lady,” the mark slightly bows then moves on, “maybe a dance for after dinner?”

You smile politely, give a curt nod, “maybe.”

The mark nods in return then excuses himself and walks away.

Your eyes on him as the mark retreats. You move your eyes sharply to Jack, “I had everything under control Jack,” you emphasize his name with a hiss, “I didn’t need you coming to my rescue.”

“I, uh,” Jack stutters, “I just thought you needed help. Not rescuing.” But he did want to rescue you.

“Help. Rescue,” you shrug, “basically mean the same thing,” you sigh heavily at his silence, “Ginger informed me of his description seconds before he approached me and asked for a dance. I was shocked but thankful I didn’t have to seek him out.”

Jack frowns, “she described him to me then I saw him with you. I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.” No, you got jealous. “But you did place the tracker on him?”

You nod, “yes. Don’t worry. Ginger said it’s activated. We’ll finally get him Jack. And the Statesman will be able to get more information on Poppy.”

The Statesman had been gathering information on Poppy Adams for months now, concerned she was going to release a drug to the world’s population. The mark you had placed the tracker on was dating the woman, and hopefully keeping tabs on him would lead the Statesman to Poppy’s lair because she’s hidden away from the world.

Jack moves his eyes up and down your body. He has the opening to ask for your hand. He holds his out, “will you dance with me?”

Your heart skips a beat as you look down at Jack’s outstretched hand. He did help me, your mind thinks as you gnaw absentmindedly on your bottom lip, what the hell. You smile, “yes.”

Jack smiles brightly, keeps the moan inside of him as he feels your soft hand in his. Your hand is small in his brawny one as he pulls you close with his other hand and places it on your lower back. His body filling with warmth as he’s able to feel you against him.

After minutes twirling around in silence to the music and moving around other couples on the dance floor, Jack finds his voice, “you should be my partner.”

What, you think as his mind draws you away from the music and concentrating on moving your feet in the right direction. You hum lightly trying to absorb Jack’s words. “I am Tequila’s partner Jack.”

Jack sighs, “but it’s Tequila,” he says the agent’s name with disdain, “I’m sure being stuck in Kentucky isn’t thrilling. The city is thrilling Y/N. I could show you around the town.” And my place.

“I don’t get into bed with my partners Jack,” you retort. You smile and continue as he looks at you in disbelief, “if you want something with me, I cannot work as your partner.”

Jack let’s your words sink in. I have a chance. “So, maybe I have a chance?”

You laugh lightly, keeping in the back of your mind you know he’s a charmer and a flirt. You are going to take this one step at a time. “Maybe Jack. But it’s one chance. Just. One.”

Tags: @random066, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @pascalisthepunkest, @caitlincat-95, @pedrosdoll, @knight-of-heart44, @arrowswithwifi, @bonkybaaarnes, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @longitud-de-onda, @readsalot73, @earl-01, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @halefirewarrior, @ezraslittlebirdie, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @stardust-and-starlight

#masquerade oneshot #requested #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

149 notes · View notes

moth-and-raven · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I’m not sure when we made it to bed, but I wake up the next morning to Julian’s breath on my neck. He has me tucked into the curve of his body, holding me close with one of his hands resting on the flesh of my belly.

I don’t want to disturb him, but blinks himself awake almost as soon as I shift.

“Good morning, darling,” he says softly, his voice still rough with sleep.

I roll over in his arms and kiss him; his unshaven cheek bristles against my lips. “Good morning,” I echo. “Um, how did we get here?”

Julian chuckles. “I’m glad you don’t remember. I woke up, oh, a good few hours after dinner and it broke my heart to see you still sitting on the floor, asleep against the chair. Like you didn’t want to let me go, even for a moment.”

I kiss him again, more soundly. “I didn’t. I don’t.”

He pulls his hand from between us to cup my cheek. “What a lucky man I am, to have someone like you.”

After all this, everything that’s happened, it still feels impossible. Every event that’s lined up just so, every ounce of serendipity, has led us to each other. And now we’ve conquered the biggest barrier to being together. Julian is a free man. The other details seem inconsequential.

Before I can tell him that, I startle at a knock on the door, followed by Portia’s teasing voice from behind the solid oak.

“Wake up, lovebirds!” she calls. “Or if you’re already awake, stop doing whatever you’re doing so I don’t scar myself forever by coming in!”

She doesn’t wait to open the door, though, and only laughs to see us scramble out of the bed.

“Feeling better today, Ilya?” she asks, looking him over.

“Much. Amazing what a solid meal and some sleep can do.”

Portia rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure I’ve been telling you that for years, and Mazelinka years before that. And yet you always seem to forget it.”

“Nonsense!” he says indignantly. “I tell my patients all the time—”

“For you, dumbass.”

“Ah… right.”

She laughs and shakes her head. Someday, maybe, we’ll get through to him that he deserves the same kind of care he shows to others.

“Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that Asra’s waiting for you,” Portia says to me. “We didn’t even have to go out looking; he was at the palace gates this morning. Did you talk to him somehow?”

I blink, stunned. I didn’t reach him, or even try. But he’s always been mysterious like that, showing up exactly when he’s needed. “No, I haven’t talked to him since before I came up here, the first time.”

My own words sink like stones in my stomach. He doesn’t know about any of this, all that’s happened in the handful of days since he slipped out the back door of the shop.

Julian interjects, coughing weakly. “Aha. Well, then. This will be, erm, some sort of reunion, won’t it?” He’s pale and fidgety, brushing his hair back from his forehead and letting the auburn curls fall over his eyes again and again. “Can’t say I’m overly excited for it.”

That makes sense. It’s been years since they last saw each other, and those weren’t the best of times. And apparently Julian stole from him on his way out, too. But it’ll be okay. I tell him so as I take his hand.

Even through his reluctance, he smiles at me. It lights up his eyes, both gray and red, and I can’t help but smile with him.

Portia lets the feeling hang for a moment, then pipes up again. “Nadia’s with him already. They’re in the big salon, with breakfast. C’mon!”

She leads the way down the stately palace halls, chatting with us. Nadia wants to announce Julian’s innocence at the start of the Masquerade, she says. It’s its own form of justice served, I suppose, clearing his name rather than solving the mystery of the Count’s murder. I’m certainly not complaining.

As we reach the door of the salon, Julian stops, letting Portia go on ahead. His palms have only gotten slicker the closer we get. He looks down at me, biting his lip, and sighs heavily.

“Erm, darling, I have to, ah. Asra. He and I had an, erm… He might not be overly pleased to see me.”

“What?” I’ve never known Asra to be on anyone’s bad side. “How come?”

“We, ah, didn’t part on the best of terms. The mark, the curse, it’s… well, it’s my fault. I—”

He doesn’t finish the thought before Portia turns back, exasperated, and grabs the loose fabric of his shirt to push him into the room. I have no choice but to follow, mind astir with prickles of unease. She shuts the door behind me.

This salon is brighter, much more colorful than Nadia’s personal suite. Rugs and curtains add splashes of orange and purple and red, met with sprays of blue forget-me-nots and tall white lilies nestled in glass vases. Nadia sits resplendent in a shimmering golden robe, her hair flowing like water over her shoulders. She’s laughing as we walk in, hiding it behind her hand. Opposite her, Asra sits cross-legged on an ottoman with Faust curled around his forearm to drink tea from his cup.

“Reyja!” Asra says, beaming at me. “You did a little more than take care of yourself, didn’t you?”

I smile back. Despite our differences, Asra is my oldest friend. He knows me, at least as well as I let him, and it’s nice to see him again. “How was your trip?”

He waves the question away. “Not that exciting. Nothing like what you’ve done. Nadia’s filled me in on everything.” His lilac eyes darken, and for the first time he shifts his attention to Julian. “And everyone.”

The room falls silent, chill in the morning sun.

“Erm, hello, Asra.”

“Julian.”

“Aha, long time no see?”

“Could’ve been longer.”

“Ah.” Julian scrambles for something to say. “H-how’ve you been?”

Asra takes a deep breath and drops his smouldering gaze. Immediately, the sunlight slanting through the windows feels warm again. “You’re right,” he offers. “It has been a long time. And it’s felt like a long time, too.”

That isn’t really an answer. But with Nadia here, and even with me, it’s probably the best Julian’s going to get. Something happened between the two of them; even if Julian hadn’t said as much, it hangs in the air like smoke. And now is not the time to discuss it.

“Good morning to you both,” Nadia says, cutting through the awkward silence. “I trust you slept soundly, for this morning brings new challenges.”

We both nod, eager to move on.

“Excellent. Indeed, as Asra said, I have shared with him all you told me. I must admit I was surprised to hear that he, too, was at the palace around the same time.”

Asra shrugs. “I had to help.”

Nadia smiles at him. “I’m sure your talents were put to good use. If nothing else, Reyja’s training proves you to be a strong and skillful magician.”

“Ha, thanks.”

“But I’m afraid I have reached the end of my knowledge,” she continues. “Though I understand there is more to the story.”

Julian clears his throat and gives my hand one last reassuring squeeze before dropping it and stepping into the middle of the room. "Yes. While sifting through everything else, Reyja and I came across some more pieces of the puzzle. Now, erm, I don't want to step on any toes, but—"

Nadia interrupts with another gentle smile. "You have my permission to speak freely, Doctor."

He lets out a noisy breath. "Thank you, Countess. Erm, Nadia. But you might not want to hear it."

"Perhaps not. But it must be said nevertheless."

"You aren't wrong." Julian squares his shoulders and turns away, pacing across the ornate damask rug. He stops abruptly in front of the windows and wheels around, lip raised in a fierce snarl. "There’s a snake in your midst," he declares.

Asra snorts. "Who, Faust?"

"No! Quaestor Valdemar. It’s very possible that they’re the one responsible for Lucio’s — I’m sorry, Count Lucio’s — murder,” he says. “I admit that this evidence isn’t the most solid, and what I would give to have the answers! But, erm, bear with me. We, Reyja and I, we spoke to an old friend of mine, who was here back then as well. Maybe you remember him, Asra? Skylar Trevelyan?”

Asra shrugs again, noncommittal.

“Ah. Well, at any rate, he, erm, reminded me that it was Valdemar who infected me with the Plague, and Valdemar who had been—” He stops, stuttering. “You both know all this, don’t you?”

“I would like to hear it from you, Doctor,” Nadia says kindly.

He flashes a grateful smile. “Skylar also reminded me that I, ah, wasn’t at my best back then. Especially towards the end. I suppose, to put it plainly, I was losing my mind. Those rumors, at least, were somewhat true.” He laughs harshly. “But I’ll flatter myself by saying that that was mostly the Plague’s doing. The Plague, and magic.”

Asra and Nadia respond together, with varying degrees of credulity. “Magic?”

“Magic,” Julian confirms. “Dreams, and tarot, and this.”

He drops to one knee and, before anyone can stop him, slides a thin blade from his boot and slashes it across his forearm. I barely stifle a scream as I scramble out of my chair to his side. I know he’ll be fine, but—

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Asra says, only mildly alarmed. Faust has repositioned herself around his shoulders and flicks her tongue as if to punctuate his remark.

Julian laughs and holds out his bleeding arm. As we watch, the cut shrinks, sealing itself in the light of the mark on his throat. Within seconds it’s gone, leaving behind only ribbons of blood smeared across his pale skin. “Nothing’s wrong with me, Asra.”

“No more than usual, I guess.”

“It certainly comes in handy.”

Asra rolls his eyes. “I’m sure. Trust you to make a bargain-mark kinky.”

“A what?”

Asra sighs and refolds his legs. “That sigil. It’s the mark of a deal struck. Someone gave it to you…” He closes his eyes and sends a tendril of his own magic out, washing over Julian in search of answers. He finds them quickly. “The Hanged Man? How did you—? Oh. I get it.”

Julian pulls his sleeve down again and busies himself tucking it back into his glove, avoiding Asra’s accusing gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“But, erm. I did.”

Asra stares daggers into Julian. “No shit,” he spits after a moment. “Okay, Nadia, here’s what he’s telling us, since he won’t just say it: he used an ancient ritual to contact an ageless being from a magical realm, and while they were chatting, he gave him something important enough to merit superhuman abilities in return. And now, unless I’m pulling this out of my ass, the good doctor wants whatever he gave him back.”

“What?” Julian snaps his head up. “I never said—”

“You want to talk to the Hanged Man again, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“He’s not going to give away anything for free,” Asra says. “If you want answers, it’ll cost you.”

“Oh. I see.”

“You really don’t.”

All four of us sit quietly for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, Nadia picks up her tea cup and breaks the silence. “This mark is what allowed you to heal so quickly from the torture instigated by Quaestor Valdemar,” she says to Julian.

It isn’t a question, but he answers anyway. “Yes, it is. I can share its power, too.”

He glances at me and smiles. Nadia follows his gaze, understanding.

“What do you hope to learn from this Hanged Man?” she asks.

“What Valdemar was planning, three years ago. Why they’re still after it now. Where they’ve gone, maybe. And why there’s still evidence of the Plague leaking through the palace, putting the people I care about in danger.” His mismatched eyes linger on my face, tracing my features. He can’t resist reaching for me, trailing a finger along my cheekbone.

“Do you have a plan?”

He drops his hand, and with it his smile. “I do,” he says quietly.

I haven’t said a word since we walked in, but I can’t let him go through with this. “It isn’t possible,” I say, more to him than Nadia.

“Oh?” Nadia cocks her head.

Before I can elaborate, Asra laughs raucously and falls back against the sofa. “Let me guess,” he says, words molten with contempt. “Is there some martyrdom involved?”

“Asra—” Julian’s voice is stuck between warning and whining.

“For fuck’s sake, Julian, you haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Of course I—!”

Asra sits up again, slowly, and runs his hand through his fine white hair. “Makes sense, why you’d want to,” he says reluctantly. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. And why you’d decide that there was only one way to do it.”

“The book—”

“Was written for magicians, who would already know that there are other ways to contact the Arcana.”

“Oh.”

“I know the ritual. I can send you into the Hanged Man’s realm. Without killing you, even.”

Julian hesitates, glancing between me and Asra. “Alone?” he asks softly. I can’t tell if he wants the response to be yes or no.

Asra sighs. “Ideally. But honestly, I’m not sure I like that idea.” His eyes meet mine, from the other side of the room. “What if Reyja went?”

I hadn’t considered the possibility. I have magical skills, and more of a connection to Asra than Julian does, regardless of what happened between them. It might work.

“Instead of me?” Julian shakes his head and, almost automatically, reaches for my hand again, pulling me closer. “No. I won’t put her in danger.”

“Look, I’m just laying out the options. If shit goes wrong, there will be two lives at risk instead of one, and it takes a huge amount of magical energy to do what I’m suggesting.”

“So I have to face this alone.”

“Still on that kick, huh? No, that isn’t what I said. I can send you both, I just need some time to prepare. And a quiet place, preferably near water?”

Nadia, still seated in her cozy armchair, nods. “Valdemar’s threat is still present. If this stops it, I will do what I can to assist. You shall have all you require, and I’ll personally see to it that no one disturbs you.”

“Thanks.” As he stands and guides Faust back into her usual spot in his shirt, Asra eyes me closely, lingering especially on Julian’s hand in mine. “Don’t make this ‘represent’ anything, Julian,” he says. “And Reyja… actually, nevermind. It’s not time yet. I can tell.”

What’s that supposed to mean? He’s doing it again already, deciding for me what I can and can’t know. He did the same thing during my apprenticeship. It does inspire me to do better, and more, I suppose, just to prove him wrong. If Julian and I are going to the arcane realms, I’ll make sure we’re safe, no matter how dangerous Asra thinks they are. I’m not the same person he left standing in the shop that night. If nothing else, now I have someone to fight for.

------

We part ways with both Asra and Nadia at the base of the stairs. They’re heading out to the fountain in the garden to set up the ritual, which Asra said he’d start preparations on as soon as he finished his noon salat. Nadia recommended that Julian and I take advantage of the last few minutes of downtime we have before we go, and I was quick to agree.

Julian looks over his shoulder almost guiltily after I shut the door of my room.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, erm… I was trying to tell you, warn you, I suppose, before we went in, that Asra and I— It didn’t last. Clearly. Ha, really, the only feelings I retained are embarrassment and dismay, over my own actions.”

“Oh.” I have no experience with bitter exes. “What happened?”

I realize too late that that’s a very personal question, but Julian just shrugs. “Our involvement was almost purely physical. I needed… someone. Something. A, ahem, a firm hand.”

I swallow the image of Julian on his knees, submitting to Asra the same way I had pictured him submitting to me. “Did you get that, at least?”

“Oho, that and more, my darling.” He steps closer to me and reaches out to mesh our fingers. “But I took it too far. He wanted to end it and I, erm, didn’t. I’m ashamed of the lengths I went to hang onto him.”

“And that’s why—?”

“More or less. I think. It was all such a mess. I don’t blame him for, for responding like that. Holding a grudge. For all I know, I made it worse during the time I can’t remember.” Julian shakes his head.

“I mean, it’s good that you… aren’t like that anymore? Right?”

He chuckles. “I hope I’m not.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

We stand together for a moment, then, biting my lip, I pull him closer to the bed. He follows gratefully, sinking down and letting me lean against him. His lips are soft on my cheek, his breath softer.

“Asra was one of the only people I could remember from my time in the palace,” he says. “That’s why I was searching for him when I found you. I had hoped he would know something.”

“I guess he did.”

“But I wouldn’t have known which questions to ask without you, my dear.”

Strange how it all fits together. “Did Asra live at the shop back then?”

“Yes. I believe it was left to him many years ago.”

I frown. “I wonder why he moved out, instead of making me leave.”

“For both of our sakes, I’m glad he didn’t. How would I have found you then, hm?”

That almost chills me. I don’t want to think about a world in which we never met. “We would’ve found each other somewhere,” I say quietly.

Julian lays back, settling me into the crook of his arm. “Yes,” he agrees. “But I’m grateful we didn’t have to wait any longer. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He’s said that before. He said it the night we spent at Mazelinka’s house, and when we were in the library. And he’ll say it again, I’m sure.

I wonder, briefly, painfully, how many people he’s lost to “something happening,” that would make him so eager to repeat such a sentiment.

“I won’t either.”

“What’s that?”

I snuggle closer to him and tilt my head back to look him in the eye. “I won’t let anything happen to you, either. You… mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too, my dear. More than, erm, more than I could possibly say.” He blinks, letting the smile that had been floating at the corners of his mouth blossom. “Not that I won’t try, though.”

But he doesn’t have to say anything. Not right now. It’s enough, for the moment, to lay here with him, our hearts beating in tandem.

I doze off to the steady sound of his breath and awaken only after the sunlight has moved down the wall, to Asra stepping into the room without knocking. He looks haggard, already worn out by the work he’s done to set the stage for our adventure.

He pushes his hair back from his forehead and sighs. “It’s time.”

—————

Skylar belongs to @ollifree.

prev || next

#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak #reyja north #moth & raven

8 notes · View notes

snowdice · 4 years ago

Text

Folds in Paper (Chapter 2: Green Light)[Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Janus/Patton, Remus & Roman, eventual Logan/Virgil (maybe more)

Characters:

Main: Janus, Patton, Remus

Appear: Remy, Emile, Virgil, Logan, Roman

Summary: Janus, a disillusioned senior agent working for the Time Preservation Initiative, struggles to find meaning in a world where time travel could change everything about your life’s history in less than a moment. When time distortions start popping up, threatening the timeline and the fabric of reality as he knows it, it becomes a race against the clock to fix the damage before everything unravels. And the problem with time travel… you never how long you have before the clock strikes 12 and your time is up.

With a partner who has more mysteries in his past than Janus had anticipated and an enigmatic free agent time traveler mucking about time always with a clever pun or a time appropriate pet name on his lips, Janus will need to figure out what went wrong with time, and more importantly, how to fix it.

Notes: Time travel AU, mystery, enemies to lovers, alcohol

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – to-morrow we will run farther, stretch out our arms farther…” (F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gastby)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the first saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before, before looking through the next things on his list. A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece of time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travelers that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace. It was a fairly low stakes mission.

He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slid copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out mission, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. You’re set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask, on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side, there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

#sanders sides #janus sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #moceit #analogical #(eventually)#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #emile sanders #folds in paper #folds in time universe #adriana writes

38 notes · View notes

adarafaelbarba · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x Nora Johannessen (OC)

Fandom: Law and Order SVU

Warning: Fluff. Teasing. Mutual Pining.

A/N: This is a test fic to see what y’all think of my OC idea! ❤️

«Detective Carisi. Have you got a moment?» Nora asked, looking at the taller man as he stood outside the 16th precinct in Manhattan. «Ms. Johannessen, yes of course. What can I do for you?» He asked. God he looked handsome, she couldn’t deny it. It was just something about that suit he was wearing that made him even more irresistible. «Lars, Ivar, leave us for a bit will you?» she said, looking to the two Embassy body guards that followed her. When they didn’t move she turned to them again, «Gentlemen?» Nodding their heads they stepped back, but she knew they would still follow her.

«Ms. Johannessen?» Turning to Sonny again you gave him a small smile. «Yes, sorry. I wanted to see if you were free on Saturday. The Mayor of New York is holding an end of the year sort of ball, and well, I don’t want to go alone again», She murmured, trying not to sound nervous.

It had always been an attraction towards the detective. As long as she had known him. «The Mayor—You want me, to go with you to the Mayor’s ball?» He sounded more surprised than she expected him to be. «Y—yes. Sorry was I too forward?» As a Norwegian it was almost unheard of that she was this forward, but then again, she knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was him, so damn being reserved. «No, I uh, a little surprising. I’ve never been to a party that grand before», he noted, scratching the back of his head. «It’s a black tie type of event. Oh, and a mask.» Sonny looked at her in wonder. «A masquerade?» Nodding her head this time, she smiled softly at him.

«At least think about it Detective. Call me when you have your answer», she said, turning to the two bodyguards she had with her. «I’m looking forward to your response Detective Carisi.» And with that she left.

…

Sonny was still in mixed state of shock and wonder at her request when he walked back into the bullpen after his interaction with the gorgeous blonde. She had asked him to go with her to the Mayor’s ball. Why would she want to go with him in the first place? Surely she had other, better candidates than him. «Hey Carisi! Are you listening?» Fin asked, looking at the other man. «Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?» He looked at his colleague, frowning. «I was telling you we have a lead. We got to go!» Nodding his head, Sonny grabbed what he needed and followed Fin out the building.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her offer, about her. She was stunning, sure, he would be an idiot not to see that. Sonny had noticed that the day they met, when they were introduced to each other by a mutual friend. Your friend had jokingly told her he’d call her if he needed a booty call, in which Nora had just looked at the guy and said «In your dreams Will!» This comment had Sonny in stitches.

She wasn’t dating anyone, that much he knew, it wasn’t likely that she would invite him if she had someone else. But for a long time after meeting the blonde woman, he thought she was dating Will, which was why he didn’t try wooing her.

It wasn’t until Sonny plucked up the courage to ask his friend, that he found out they had never been a thing, and all that it was between them, was meaningless banter. That was when he knew, he had to ask her. It just, it was never the right time, that’s what he told himself anyways.

They were both busy people. There was always a case pulling Sonny’s attention away, although he always found himself thinking about her. And she was always busy with diplomatic stuff, being the secretary to the Norwegian Ambassador seemed a taxing job.

Never did Sonny think Nora would be the one to ask him out. He was completely shocked. But he knew, this was his chance, and there was no way he would miss out on it.

He was about to text her when Fin nudged his shoulder and told him they were there.

…

Nora had never been inside Sonny’s work. But she had found herself with some free time on her hands and had decided to stop by with some coffee and some sweets from home to cheer him up. She knew how hectic his day was, and how much he loved coffee and sweets, so what better way to brighten someones day.

Getting to the right floor she stepped out of the elevator, suddenly feeling lost. She had told her bodyguards to wait outside, stating that she was safe in there. It wasn’t like she needed them, at least not according to her, but her boss had told her to always have at least one of them with her when leaving the embassy, so she didn’t fight it.

«Can I help you?» A blonde haired woman asked, looking at Nora. «I’m looking for Detective Carisi», Nora replied, suddenly feeling self conscious about her appearance. «He should be done in interrogation soon», she noted, «I’m Amanda Rollins, his partner.» The woman, now known as Amanda said, offering her hand. «Nice to meet you, I’m Nora Johannessen, a friend of his», Nora responded, smiling as she shook Amanda’s hand.

«Ms. Johannessen?» Sonny sounded surprised to see her there, and why wouldn’t he? She had never been there before. «Detective Carisi», she replied, holding up the coffee and treat bag. «Figured I’d surprise you», she added, smiling. «A life savor! Thank you!» That smile was killer, not that she would complain of course. «No problem, I had some sweets from back home and I figured you’d like to try them», she commented, shrugging slightly.

Putting the cup and the bag down, he pulled her in for a hug without thinking much. Nora could feel her heart skip a beat, but none the less she melted into the hug, wrapping her arms around his middle.

It seemed like none of them wanted it to end, but when she pulled away he was smiling softly down at her. She worried she would ruin the moment, but she couldn’t wait to hear his answer, so she would have to ask him, «Have you thought about my invite?» He nodded this time. «I would love to go with you», he murmured, giving her one of his famous crooked smiles, «When do you need me to pick you up?» he asked. «6pm on Saturday outside the Embassy?» He nodded again, «I’ll be there.» And with that they pulled completely apart, Nora taking a few steps back. «I’ll see you then. Bye detective.» He gave her another smile, «Bye.»

Sonny couldn’t help but smile to himself. No more of him waiting around for the right time. «What was that all about?» Amanda asked him, looking at her partner. «Oh, uh, she invited me to the Mayor’s ball on Saturday», he said, smiling slightly. Just a few more days to wait and he would finally get his chance. «You, going to the Mayor’s ball?!» Normally he would scowl at her comments, but he wouldn’t let her spoil his mood this time.

…

Nerves were creeping up as Nora waited for Sonny to arrive the following Saturday. «Ms. Johannessen, are you sure we shouldn’t go with you? At least let one of us drive so you and Mr. Carisi can have a good evening», Ivar, one of her bodyguards, said, looking at her. «I’ll be perfectly safe with Detective Carisi», she murmured, looking out the window onto the road.

She worried that he might be late, that work kept him busy. But surely he would have let her know if he’d be late, right?

Sighing, she kept her eyes on the driveway, silently praying that he would be there. «I’m sure he’ll be here soon», Lars, the other body guard, noted. «I’m sure he will», she murmured, her heart skipping a few beats as a car pulled up.

And sure enough, Sonny got out of the car, wearing a black tux. Nora waited where she had been standing, not wanting to seem too eager. But Ivar and Lars went to the door immediately and she felt like scolding them for it, but they were just making sure she was safe. «Ma’am? Mr. Carisi is here», Ivar noted, «Thank you Ivar, and it’s Detective Carisi», She responded, walking over to where they stood in the doorway.

«Ms. Johannessen», Sonny murmured, feeling a lump getting stuck in his throat as he looked at her. «Detective Carisi», she replied, her eyes equally glued to her. «Are you ready?» he asked, holding his hand out. «I am. Let’s go.» He carefully led her down the stairs and to the car where she could see someone at the drivers seat. «I got us a driver for the evening.» He blushed as he said that. «That’s so sweet», she murmured, smiling again at him as he held the door open.

…

The place was already packed when they got there. «Your Majesty! So good to have you here!» The Mayor commented, bowing to Nora. «Mayor De Blasio. None of that please, I’m simply here as a member of the Embassy», she mused, shaking his hand. «Alright.» He nodded, then looked to Sonny, «And who’s this?» He asked.

«Detective Dominick Carisi Jr., call me Sonny.» She had to laugh at his insistence of being called Sonny. «Detective huh? What precinct?» De Blasio asked. «16th precinct in Manhattan sir. Special Victims Unit.» She didn’t hide the wide smile on her lips as the two men spoke.

When they finally managed to get away from the mayor, Sonny turned to her. «Your Majesty?» He asked, his face, from what the mask wasn’t covering, filled with wonder. She was about to answer when someone approached them, offering drinks from a tray. Taking two champagne flutes, Nora offered one to Sonny before they clinked them carefully together.

She wanted to tell him, but how would he react? It wasn’t a big deal, she wasn’t directly in line for the throne, her brother was, and then his four children before her. That was one of the reasons she worked in America. She wanted to work for her country overseas without having to join the armed forces. It made her feel independent from her family. Sure, she loved them dearly, but the royal duties were not for her, she only did what she had to, and nothing more.

Sonny noticed how silent she was and figured she didn’t want to talk about it. «Do you want to dance?» Sonny asked, looking at her again. «I’d love to», she murmured in response, finishing her champagne before placing it on a nearby table.

Leading her out to the middle of the dance floor he placed his left hand around her waist while taking her left hand in his right.

Nora felt herself in seventh heaven just from the warmth Sonny’s body projected and how close he was to her. She felt silly for not telling him, but she was scared of what people would think, not even just people, but what he would think. Few people know about her being a princess, and she liked to keep it that way.

Looking up at Sonny, she could see him studying her closely. «What?» she asked softly. «Have I told you, you look stunning?» He asked, smiling as he looked at her. «You might have mentioned it», she mused, squeezing his shoulder. Sonny let out a chuckle at that and spun them around, making Nora squeal with delight. She had never felt so alive before. So full of glee. And so, in love.

As one song ended and the next one started, Nora could feel herself draw closer to Sonny, her smile growing wider. «Can I kiss you?» She asked, her voice just above a whisper. «Yes.» He sounded breathless as he agreed.

With heels she got closer to his height so she didn’t have to reach far to kiss him. It was like fireworks going off in her head as their lips locked together.

Her hands went into his hair as they stood there, forgetting about the world around them.

It wasn’t until their lungs were screaming for air that they pulled away. «I’ve wanted to do that for a while», he murmured, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. «Me too», she replied in a hushed voice, her heart beating so fast in her chest. «Would you like me to kiss you again?» he asked, feeling brave. «Yes.» Nora almost leaped into his arms this time making Sonny laugh in response.

«I will kiss you as much as you’d like doll», he murmured, swaying with her. «I don’t ever want you to stop Sonny», she replied, her smile never leaving her face.

taglist: @inmylifeilovedthemall @itsjustmyfantasyroom @beccabarba @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @kriegsverlobte @meri-dawn @rafaheadcanons @rafivadafreddy @sweetcannolicarisi @mrsrafaelbarba @storiesofsvu @dianilaws @delia26 @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @caked-crusader @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy

#sonny carisi #detective carisi #detective sonny carisi #detective dominick carisi jr #detective dominick carisi #dominick sonny carisi jr #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi one shot #sonny carisi x oc

14 notes · View notes