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shirophantomvox · 4 years ago

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First Date With Hisoka

Hello anon! Thank you for this post! I’m sure many of us have wondered this for the longest and now your prayers will be answered.

For a while now, I have been thinking about his character and his way of living. I had this odd feeling that how Hisoka acts in public is much different than when he is alone. It seems like his “clown look” is a mask to cover up any feelings that he may have. Given that he doesn't like to talk about his past, the “clown look” is something he does to temporarily take his mind from his troubles. I got this idea by viewing the 1999 anime where he was in a restaurant with his hair down, in a suit, and seemed like he was all by himself. He is a loner and giving him company is the best thing you could do! I think (it’s Obvious) that Hisoka’s two looks are supposed to portray alter egos. His clown look is supposed to intimidate his victims while the other one is supposed to portray him as a normal human and draw people in. Sounds horrible right? It is. Forgive me if you see grammar errors. It's late and I don't have time to check it over!

Not knowing of him being a hunter, you agreed to go out with Hisoka for the first time. You’d met him at an escape room in your town. Both parties weren’t supposed to clash into each other but it happened. His charismatic attitude immediately caught your attention, nearly making you swoon in your Tinder date’s arm. After being home for 10 minutes, you hear a knock on your kitchen window. It is 3 am! Who could be there? It couldn’t be a robber because they’d never knock! You pulled back the drapes hesitantly not knowing what ominous creatures lurked beneath the shadows. The man’s golden eyes shined through the window, sending a chill down your spin. His smile was as wide as his face. It was the man from the escape room!

“Remember me,” he asked, a muffled voice sounded behind the closed window. “You passed out from pleasure.”

No one could forget that very moment. He practically asked you out through a closed window and promised to never stalk you again...sort of.

Headcanon 1: Hisoka is quite the gentleman. This is self-explanatory. Part of his personality involves a subtle attitude, smooth way of talking, and will persuade you to let down your guard because he can tell. Anytime you approach a door, he opens it for you just to beat you to the second door. While you are with him, you WILL NOT open any doors. He has seen other people let the door slam in their s/o’s face or allow them to open it themselves and views it as utter disrespect.

When you see him pulling out your chair before you sit down, you gasp. It is 2021; you’ve never seen anyone do that, only in movies from the 1950s!

If there is a puddle and it's too large for you to step over, he will lay his ripped up jacket in it for you to step on so you do not get your shoes wet.

Headcanon 2: He’ll pay for dinner.

“Feel free to order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”

“It’s on you?”

“Yes. My chest is available if you do not feel like using a plate.”

When he says that he’ll pay for dinner, he’ll play for dinner. You could order lobster, oysters, bread sticks, pasta, or the whole world! He has several debit and credit cards with no limits and will do anything to prove that he cares about his...toy.

Headcanon 3: He thinks of you as an expensive toy.

An expensive toy can be electronic devices. We use these devices to cure our boredom or even grow to love them because they help better our lives in some way.

While you two are enjoying appetizers, he’s gently stroking your hand; his sharp nails grazing your skin in such a satisfying manner.

Headcanon 4: He is much more touchy than he should be on a first date.

Hisoka’s personality isn’t different to anyone who knows him. To your surprise, his flirtations and forward behavior was expected. Instead of sitting across the table from you, he scooted down the booth, sat with 4 inches of you, and placed his left hand around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“Ah. This is much better. Now we can get to know each other better,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You're much shyer than you were in the escape room. Why is that?”

Trying to look him in the eye across the table was very intimidating. It’s odd. You didn’t feel that way when he asked you out through the closed window. The heat radiating from his body hit your face like a sack of rocks. As much as you wanted to respond to him, you couldn’t. On a normal day, you were the talkative and energetic one, but there is something about this unique gentleman that had you aghast.

“Kitten, please look me in the eye when I am speaking to you,” he said ever so smoothly, placing his index finger under your smooth chin, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet his. He gently caressed your cheek with the tip of his nail waiting for you to answer. “Well?”

You flushed. Hard. Harder than you have ever done! Your eyes shook in slight fear. This man’s husky presence brought a sense of dominance; it was as if a lion was standing over you ready to make a move. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he placed his index finger over your mouth.

“Hmmm…your cheeks seem to be a shade of pink. Something I hadn’t noticed before.”

The sound of his voice practically in your right ear melted your brain signaling your entire body to do the same. You appeared to be dumbfounded; staring blankly into his golden eyes. They were mesmerizing.

Everyone knows that you are not supposed to kiss on the first date but Hisoka Morrow does NOT follow anyone’s rules. He leans in close, puckering his lips and you follow. Just as your lips were 0.5 inches away from his, he pulled back causing you to nearly lean into him in a rather humiliating way. The waiter came with a bottle of Red wine and asked if you were ready to order.

Hisoka laughed at the epic fail he saw before him.

“You have to be quicker than that, dear.”

Headcanon 5: He asks a LOT of questions about you. Google might as well write their name on his forehead because he asks you a lot of questions.

He asked questions about your future, your talents, what job you want or have, what are your deepest, darkest fears, and anything he can use to exploit if he needs to. Yes, we all love soft Hisoka, but we have to realize that he is still manipulative at times for his own entertainment.

Of course he dodges questions about him.

Headcanon 6: He asks for a selfie to brag to lllumi. Illumi couldn’t care less about Hisoka’s happiness but he entertains the thought. Although Illumi claims he doesn’t need friends, he secretly loves the time they spend together.

“Smile big,” he says.

“Who’s going to see this,” you ask.

“Don’t worry. Only those on my private story will see this. You’re in good hands.”

Do you want to know who’s on his private story? The Phantom Troupe, The 10 Dons, and Zeno. Those people SHOULD NOT know who you are just yet.

Headcanon 7: His first date gifts are out of this world. Not only did he bring you flowers, he brought you a glass frame, expensive chocolate, and one of his crop-top shirts with his cologne on it.

“Why did you give me your shirt?”

“So you can dream of me everyday. Wear it to bed; you’ll be in heaven I guarantee it.”

Headcanon 8: Dress to impress. Mr. Morrow is known to be a fashion icon, but his dress clothes will blow you out of the water. His grayish-white suit makes his skin tone pop and more vibrant while not underneath light. His cologne was so heavily applied that you could smell it a mile away. He purposefully wore his tie crooked so you could fix it.

“Do you mind?” He pointed to his wrinkled tie.

“Not at all.” He smiled cheekily at your fingers as they fixed the clump of cloth on his neck. He was tempted to pull your fingers to his lips but didn’t.

“I’ll save that for next time,” he thought.

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

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fic: (how lovely i feel) not to have to pretend

Jamie has never met anyone quite like Dani Clayton--a matter that goes without saying on nearly every level. She’s never met someone quite so selfless, quite so brave, quite so prone to acting on behalf of others without even seeming to realize she’s doing it. More than that, she’s never known anyone else to be quite so self-possessed as Dani Clayton. No one but Dani has quite the same capacity for keeping a firm grasp on how they look to the outside world.

Jamie finds it remarkable even before they become a they at all--watching Dani stride around the manor grounds with her head held high, her shoulders thrown back, her fists clutched tight at her sides as though she is at all times in full control of her physicality. It is most remarkable because it simply isn’t true; almost before she knows the woman’s name, Jamie becomes familiar with the demons she’s holding at bay, the short breath and sharp sob she tries so hard to keep shelved. Dani to the naked eye is a woman clean and pressed and presented. Dani beneath the surface is roiling.

And still, even once Jamie knows there is something else lurking behind blue eyes and pretty smile, it can be hard to forget. Dani is so good at fabricating a version of herself for the world, a version fit for consumption, that she almost doesn’t seem to realize she’s doing it. Her clothes, though meager in number, are always clean and well-matched; her hair, be it tied up or tied back or teased high, is perfect. Dani is every inch the person Wingrave hired her to be: a young woman in control of her own body, a young teacher poised to guide her charges into the light of self-restraint.

And, if she should shudder at shadows--

If she should flinch from mirrors--

If she should, from time to time, catch herself staring at Jamie as though uncertain how they both got here--

Things happen. Things outside of Dani’s agency happen, and they seem to keep happening--death, and darkness, and decisions made by everyone around her--and still, Dani doesn’t bow. Dani’s head is up, Dani’s clothes are clean, Dani’s eyes are clear.

Even after the lake. Even after things go the most wrong anything ever has. Dani’s head is up. Dani’s clothes are clean. Dani’s eyes are...

Jamie sort of expects it all to change, after that. Expects Dani to change, after that. To lower her guard, or to build a wall to the sky, or something to show on a tangible level what she is carrying on her back. But Dani is still, despite it all--though her gaze is distant and her smile is brittle and she forgets from time to time what she’s doing or where she is--Dani. No one is the wiser. No one has the first idea she might not be in total control.

No one except for Jamie. Dani lets Jamie see it all. Dani gives her the darkness, the shuddering terror, the long nights kept awake and the long days made giddy from lack of sleep. Dani gives her laughter, and blank stares, and everything in between. It is, Jamie recognizes, the greatest gift one person could give another: to offer up on the altar of trust the self, the whole self, for good and for ill. Jamie gets to see it all, though no one else has a clue.

Jamie doesn’t take it for granted.

***

This art of Dani, this secret language of reading between the lines, comes in handy on bad days, it’s true. There are times Jamie thinks it is fortunate she is so equipped with comprehension, so well-honed to Dani’s every mood. Early on, especially, it comes in handy more often than she could possibly have predicted.

Still. It isn’t always a matter of doom, with Dani. More often than not, this self-possessed air has nothing whatsoever to do with her beast in the jungle, her rising panic, her terror of looking too far ahead.

More often than not, her self-control reveals itself in a completely different sense.

It begins at the house, on a lovely day that starts with Jamie waking alone, Dani on her skin and all around her in every sense except now. It begins with Jamie pulling her clothes on in a rush, feeling slow and muddled and a little bit drunk with the memory of Dani’s hands trailing like phantoms along her body.

“You’re going?” Dani, in the doorway, a pink jumper and cascading hair and nervous little smile. Jamie, one boot in hand, her jeans still unzipped, feels herself grin too broadly to restrain.

“Thought you’d already gotten to business.”

Dani shakes her head. “I found Flora outside again. She says she’s all right, so I left her with Owen and Hannah in the kitchen. Wanted to make sure--”

She trails off, looking embarrassed. Jamie tips her head and waits.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up alone,” Dani says at last in a rush, her eyes wide and blue and so happy, Jamie can’t imagine her any other way. “I was afraid if I took too long, you’d--well, you’d leave, and I wouldn’t get a chance to--”

“Wouldn’t go far,” Jamie promises. It’s not a thing she’s ever been able to offer a woman before, not wearing yesterday’s clothes and feeling the gentle ache of last night’s pleasures winding through every muscle. She’s never in her life been able to look a woman in the eye the next morning and say as much, but she says it now. “I...I’d like to stay.”

It’s sunlight, the way Dani smiles, stepping all the way into the room. Her hand lingers on the doorknob, her fingers tapping an idle melody as she looks Jamie over as if searching for some kind of permission. When Jamie lets her boot drop to the floor, it seems to be all Dani is looking for.

They should go downstairs, some distant part of Jamie’s responsible nature grumbles--but the rest of her can’t be bothered. Not with the eager stride of Dani crossing the room, the click of the door coming to rest in its latch as thrilling as the day’s first kiss.

“They’re gonna know,” Jamie says, plucking at the front of her shirt. “That I--that we--”

“Yes,” Dani agrees. She’s standing within reach, rocking on her heels. Jamie, seated on the mattress, feels as though they are on opposite sides of glass, as though Dani in her clean clothes and nervous smile is today while Jamie in her rumpled t-shirt and mussed hair is last night. Dani could still walk away from last night, walk off into today, if she so chooses, and Jamie would be here. Stranded in the memory of Dani’s touch, ghost-light on her skin.

“Do...you wanna...” She extends one hand slowly, as though approaching a skittish animal, and Dani grabs for it like a lifeline. The space between shatters, Dani coming to her with all the graceless glee of taking a breath after too much time underwater.

She expects slow, gradual, even fearful--expects the shine of last night’s fire to have faded to something that might yet burn them both--but Dani’s knees are dimpling the mattress, Dani’s weight firm and steady in Jamie’s lap. Dani’s hands are on her face, as though she might have forgotten overnight what Jamie feels like and can’t stand a minute more without learning each arc and line all over again. Her thumbs sweep across cheekbone, along bridge of nose and arch of brow, her lips barely a breath away.

It’s tempting to close the gap, but Jamie forces herself to wait. Forces herself to mirror Dani’s hands, cradling, testing, exploring with the pads of her fingers in gentle motions. There’s something about this--about posing at the door of something grand, about standing here with toes just over the edge of the entryway, waiting to be invited in--that forms its own kind of gravity. Last night had been waiting for Dani to come to her, in every sense of the word. This moment, this morning, is a suspension.

Control, she thinks for the very first time. Control over time in this one perfect, near-impossible way. Control over space, as they hold just apart from one another, as Dani’s knees dig into the bedspread and Jamie’s thighs flex beneath her. Control in the most self-imposed sense of the word, lips an inch apart.

Dani kisses the corner of her mouth once, lightly. It is, Jamie thinks, a challenge--and one Jamie accepts without pause. The curve of Dani’s cheek is soft against her lips, a temptation all its own. Dani sighs, one hand sliding up the back of Jamie’s neck to rest at the base of her skull.

Another kiss, then, Jamie thinks with shivering anticipation. Just a small brush against the tip of Dani’s nose. Dani, in kind, presses one to her forehead, cradling the back of Jamie’s head, her lips lingering for a full beat. Jamie closes her eyes.

There is seduction in slow and easy, she thinks, and all the more so because it is not intentional. Dani is not trying to be anything at all except a woman who wants Jamie in this moment--a woman who holds to the back of her head, fingers trailing through messy curls, mouth drawing a slow path across forehead and temple, down one cheek and up the other. Each kiss is deliberate, gentle, Dani’s lips parting and sliding as though she could quite happily spend the entire morning doing nothing else.

“Is this...are you...” Dani seems unwilling to stop long enough to let her own thoughts unravel. Her nails scratch softly down Jamie’s neck, one hand coming to lay at the base of Jamie’s throat. “Do you want...”

Jamie is nodding, not much caring where that sentence might end. Want to stay here forever? Want to let Dani burn an entire day exploring her at this leisurely pace, her lips tracing the shell of Jamie’s ear, her breath dragging shivers down Jamie’s spine? Want to keep her hands right here on Dani’s waist, pushing pink cloth aside to rest on the soft skin beneath?

“We should be quick,” Dani breathes, though her kisses do not increase in velocity or pressure. Her hands are trailing down the backs of Jamie’s shoulders, palms sliding over shirt, fingers dragging back up again. Jamie is dimly aware of her own hands flexing, pushing Dani back, pulling Dani forward. Dani, smiling, does not fight her.

“This feels,” Jamie says, her voice still raw from lack of use, “like the opposite of quick.”

It feels, instead, like a promise. As Dani pushes beneath her jaw, easing her head back, laying an open kiss to the top of her throat, she wonders if this isn’t some sacred space they’ve built. A perfect, singular spot where nothing can touch them, no one can intercede, time itself is forced to stand still.

Dani, still kissing her way down even as she’s easing Jamie’s shirt up, hums against her skin. “Want me to speed up?”

“No,” Jamie says before she can stop herself, before she can even begin to interrogate the notion that Dani with this kind of control over herself--this kind of control over both of them--might be the thing she’s been needing for a long time. She feels Dani smile against her, feels the tip of Dani’s tongue flick lightly against her rushing pulse.

“Want me to...” She rises up, brushing her nose against Jamie’s, letting her lips linger in the softest kiss Jamie’s ever been gifted. Jamie is nodding, wild with the memory of how Dani had kissed her last night compared with how carefully Dani is kissing her now. On purpose, she realizes. On purpose, Dani is doing this. Testing every bound available to her. Testing Jamie’s resolve, and her desire, and her control.

Abruptly, Jamie closes a hand around the back of Dani’s head, urging her close, and all the seduction in the world can’t compare with how Dani breathes her in. With how Dani presses her down into the mattress, sitting tall astride her with hands buried in Jamie’s hair. Jamie lets them both fall backward, lets Dani sink into her with a soft moan, and thinks it is good to know Dani has this in her--the desire for slow and easy and calculated--just as it is good to know how quickly that dam can break open. How Dani can swing in a moment from teasing to throwing her whole self into a kiss like this, her hands sweeping down Jamie’s body, searching for the place where her zipper gapes open.

Dani, kissing like Jamie’s the only sustenance a world can offer, slides a hand down her jeans and presses her own hips behind the action. The shift from slow to sudden is immaculate, dizzying, and Jamie feels herself building almost before she can stop herself. She has never in her life been this awake, this present in her own body, as Dani rolls her fingers in tight circles, her quick-study smile hot against Jamie’s lips.

Control, gathered and broken in moments, and Jamie is making desperately muted sounds, turning her face against Dani’s shoulder in an effort to quiet herself, even as Dani is fighting tight denim, letting her fingers quicken their pace, letting her own body chase Jamie’s--

A knock sounds once, a quick rap of knuckles followed by a rather amused, “The children are beginning to worry, and I’m running out of excuses for you both.”

Jamie flinches from the sound, even as her body tries recklessly to follow the melody of Dani’s fingers. Dani freezes, her mouth gone rigid against Jamie’s skin.

“Miss Clayton,” Hannah says in that same too-entertained voice. “Flora in particular is being very persistent.”

“Out in just a sec,” Dani calls back, her voice stunningly level. Jamie raises her eyebrows, opening her mouth to add something, and Dani gives her a smile, gives her a series of hard strokes with confident fingers. Jamie chokes, jerks under her, the unexpected combination of that gesture with Dani’s grin pushing her over the edge.

“I suppose Jamie will be needing a plate,” Hannah goes on, oblivious. Jamie’s hand is over her own mouth, clapped into place just in time for her lips to part around a silent groan. Dani, hand sliding free as though it had never been busy at all, laughs.

“No getting anything past you.”

“Well, it’s hard to deny the reality of the truck out front,” Hannah says wryly. Dani is out of bed, wiping her hand discreetly on the bedspread, straightening her clothes and brushing back her hair in a flurry of distinct motions.

Jamie, shirtless and panting into her own hand as she comes back to earth, gapes at her. Dani reaches down, catches her by the wrist.

“Come on,” she says, cheerful as anything. “Breakfast.”

***

It’s an art form, Dani’s ability to keep together regardless of the situation. A truly mesmerizing art form which Jamie, try as she might, cannot for her life replicate.

“How,” she asks one day, Bly Manor two years behind them. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Dani asks innocently.

Innocently--as though she hadn’t just been pressed against the table, her skirt a mess, her blouse gaping open. As though Jamie hadn’t been holding her there, hands firm on Dani’s thighs, pressing her open. As though it hadn’t been a brief eternity of Dani rocking into her fingers, both arms wrapped tight around Jamie’s shoulders, her voice a low echo against Jamie’s ear as she’d begged Jamie to move faster, to give her more, to bring her to the edge before lunch break could end.

And now, not a minute after Jamie had curled deep and felt her shudder, not a minute after she’d bitten down on Jamie’s shoulder to keep quiet, Dani is buttoned, pressed into place, utterly presentable in every way.

“That,” Jamie says, gesticulating wildly to cover the whole of Dani in a single motion. “How does your hair do that?”

“It’s just hair,” Dani says mildly, smoothing it carefully down with her palms. It stays in place as though never been mussed at all, as if Jamie hadn’t just grabbed a handful and used it to yank Dani into a kiss.

Jamie’s hair, on the other hand, feels like it’s sticking up in twelve places. Her clothes, which hadn’t even been unbuttoned, unzipped, removed in the least, feel in dire need of an ironing. Her mouth feels swollen, her skin flushed, and Dani is still sticky on her fingers.

“You look,” she says dumbly, “like you didn’t just--I mean, you did come, yeah? I didn’t hallucinate that?”

“Hell of a nice hallucination, if so,” Dani says with a laugh, and kisses her one more time--a long, glorious kiss, one of those stop-time kisses Dani seems to come to so naturally. When she steps back, Jamie fumbles for the table, blinking away stars. “Shame there wasn’t enough time to return the favor.”

“I look like you ravaged me six ways to Sunday,” Jamie points out in a faint voice. Dani looks pleased.

“Six ways, huh? Sounds like fun. We should discuss that later.”

Jamie opens her mouth, but Dani is already ducking out of the back room, striding to flip the sign back to open and greet the customers who have gathered on the sidewalk to wait.

“You look ill, dear,” one of the old women tells Jamie, who has staggered to the counter with considerable effort. “Flushed. Not running a fever, I hope.”

“Warm day,” Jamie says, fully aware that it is late November. Dani tips her a grin, a thumbs up, her entire demeanor perfectly arranged. Jamie shakes her head. “Warm. In the back, I mean. Humid. For. Plants.”

The woman gives her a puzzled frown. “Best take care of this one,” she calls to Dani. “She needs someone to look after her, I can tell.”

“Hey--”

“I always do,” Dani assures her, never breaking her smile.

***

Honestly, it’s almost eerie. Dani’s capacity for control seems to have no bounds, no push too far to reel back from. Jamie has actually started to try, curious if there’s a way to turn Dani from neat-and-orderly to flustered in public settings. It becomes something of a personal challenge.

She finds herself pressing up against Dani in the shop after-hours, letting her hands roam around Dani’s ribs, up her breasts, down the front of her blouse. Dani gamely lets her head fall back onto Jamie’s shoulder as deft fingers work open her buttons, allowing herself to rock back as Jamie’s hands knead at the front of her bra, as Jamie’s fingers pinch and stroke.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, if you think we’re ever going to finish inventory.”

“Danger can be good,” Jamie points out, pushing aside Dani’s collar and sucking sharply. The skin is glistening, reddening, her tongue stroking away the tease of her bite, and Dani tips her head to allow better access.

“It’s like you don’t even want to go home.”

“You keep counting,” Jamie suggests. “I’ll keep doing this. Everybody wins.”

“And if someone--” Dani groans as Jamie slides her fingers beneath the cup of her bra. “If someone calls?”

“Well,” Jamie says politely, pressing herself harder against Dani, pinning her to the table. “They’ll just have to wait, won’t they?”

It’s a fine plan, she thinks with self-congratulatory pleasure. A fine plan, letting her free hand wander down to pull at Dani’s belt, feeling Dani slowly unwind the day’s tension into her hands as she leans back, breathes deeply, gasps.

A fine plan, and if the phone should--

It rings, right on cue, and Jamie waits for Dani to push her away. Is certain that this--Dani rolling her hips into Jamie’s waiting fingers, Dani abandoning inventory altogether for Jamie’s considerably more interesting plan--will take precedence over any self-imposed need to look presentable Dani might have.

“Let it go,” she suggests, even as Dani’s hand is drifting. “Let it go and let me--”

“Keep going,” Dani says in a low voice, and then the phone is to her ear, and she is saying, “Good evening, Leafling, Dani Clayton speaking” as though nothing is happening. As though she isn’t leaning her head on Jamie’s shoulder, Jamie kissing her neck as quietly as possible. As though Jamie’s hand is not working magic between her legs, Jamie grinding herself against her back in that way she knows makes Dani’s breath quicken.

Dani’s voice is never anything less than polite as she walks some faceless stranger through the finer elements of a birthday arrangement, though her hips are matching Jamie’s increasing rhythm, her skin flushed pink beneath Jamie’s lips. She turns her head, watching Jamie with dark eyes, tongue pulling her own lip between her teeth as she says, “Yes, yes, that sounds--that sounds beautiful. Would you--”

Jamie grins, pulling her hand free. Dani makes a thin noise of disapproval, easily passed off as a cough over the phone--and then, a startled sound as Jamie grasps her hips and presses her over the table, leaning across her back.

“You could still hang up,” she points out in a bare whisper against Dani’s unoccupied ear, even as she’s pulling Dani’s jeans down. Easing Dani’s legs apart. Pushing her harder down against the table, kissing the back of her neck, slipping a hand between her spread legs from behind.

“Yes,” Dani says, perfectly calmly into the phone, “yes, we do--we do two-for-one deals through the weekend, would you like--”

Jamie laughs. She’s fighting a losing battle, it’s clear; though Dani’s skin hums beneath her hands, Dani slick across her fingers as she tugs down underwear and returns to her efforts, Dani never shows a sign of it in her voice. If she is rocking harder against Jamie’s hand, if she’s gripping the table with white-knuckled desperation right until the end of the call, it does nothing to diminish the easy charm of her additional, “All right! Sounds wonderful, we’ll get that squared away for you by Monday. Have a lovely evening. Yeah. Yes. Bye now.”

She slams the receiver down, bows her head, cries out as Jamie gives a particularly hard thrust in celebration. Jamie is laughing into the back of her shoulder, her wrist aching as she slides free and shakes her head.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I am a professional,” Dani gasps. “And you were doing a really, really good job.”

***

Dani doesn’t give up control in public, not for anything. It isn’t even intentional, Jamie has come to realize. The product of her upbringing, probably; the expectation of too many years, too many people telling her to stand up straight, keep her clothes neat and her smile orderly. Dani is presentation and poise, even in her darkest moments.

Except for this.

Except for being here.

Dani at home is truly at home. In pajamas, in wrinkled t-shirts, her hair a mess, her face devoid of makeup, she is perfectly at ease. Perfectly imperfect. At home, with Jamie, she allows herself to fall apart in every way a woman can.

She laughs more at the apartment, and with greater reckless zeal. Rarely does Jamie hear this breathless tint to her laughter outside; rarely does Jamie see her collapse into herself with giggles, cackling so hard, she nearly knocks herself off the couch.

She cries harder at the apartment, and with no interest in doing so prettily. Rarely does Jamie see her face blotchy and miserable outside; rarely does Jamie hear her gasp and choke and whine as sobs wrack her body.

She dances at home. Dani isn’t much of a dancer, it turns out, but there’s something magnificent about watching her move to the radio as she cleans the kitchen, as she smoke a cigarette and puts dishes away to the tune of Top 40 hits.

She sings, too. Never in public, never where she thinks she can be judged, but at home, Dani is always singing. Her voice is pretty and unrestrained, no training at all as she scrambles for notes Jamie would put her own eye out trying to reach. There is something simple and marvelous about days when Jamie comes home late, a pizza in hand, to hear Dani belting in the shower.

She is at her best when she is free, Jamie thinks. When the control is set aside because she no longer needs it, no matter how good she is at keeping a hand on the wheel.

She is at her best at home, with Jamie, here. With candles lit and dinner ordered in, with Jamie in her finest clothes for the express purpose of offering cheap wine in discount glasses.

“It’s just a day, Jamie,” Dani says, but she’s grinning. Just a day for most people, maybe, but this marks three years of time in America. Three years with Dani’s beast silent and Dani’s love loud. A day, sure, but it means the world when you put it that way.

“It’s silly,” Dani says, though she’s wearing a dress that makes Jamie wonder how she even got into it without help, and her lips are painted as though she isn’t fully aware Jamie will be ruining them as soon as dinner is over.

“It’s nice,” Jamie counters. Dani raises her wine to her lips, nodding.

“It is. Thank you.”

“For what?” Italian food ordered in from the best local place is not, exactly, high-class. Jamie with a dishtowel over one arm, playing at fancy as she tops off Dani’s glass, is not exactly high-class, either.

Jamie in general is not exactly high-class--and she has not for even a second thought that mattered. Not to Dani. Not ever.

“Thank you for...all of it.” Dani gestures to encompass Jamie, the apartment, the world. “For not getting sick of it.”

“Never,” Jamie promises, and pretends she doesn't see the tears in Dani’s eyes as she bends her head to kiss her.

It’s true that Dani thinks she could get tired of it all, that Dani thinks she could at any point be ready to walk away. It will get worse with time, but for now, it’s easy to convince her to step back from the weight of that line of thinking. Easy to take her hands, bring them to Jamie’s lips, walk with her backwards away from the fear of not being good enough. Of not being whole enough. Of letting the polish slip so much that Jamie might one day flinch from what’s waiting beneath.

Jamie doesn’t know how to make it clear how little she cares for the polish and the poise, how little she needs the artifice Dani is so good at putting on for everyone else. Dani, who has made a life out of professional, responsible, put-together. Dani, who needs people to see the woman who does not step back from shadows, who is stronger than she knows.

And still, the best moments are these: Dani with her dress pooling at her feet, stepping out with an almost shy giddiness as she moves into Jamie’s arms. Dani, her cheeks flushed, the pink trailing down her neck, splashed across her chest as she leans back onto the bed. Dani, her makeup smudged, her lipstick stained into Jamie’s skin, her hair utterly unkempt as Jamie slides her hands in and pulls her close.

Dani on her back on the rumpled sheets, her breath coming in quick jabs as Jamie moves between bent knees. Dani, soaked through and crying out, her hips twisting as Jamie coaxes her along, each roll and swipe of her tongue a promise that this is what she’s been looking for. Dani in control is exquisite in a certain way--Dani bent over the table at work, Dani keeping composure even as Jamie buries herself deep, makes the world hot and heady and surprising. But Dani like this--Dani as no one else is allowed to see her, Dani shifting beneath her and pushing hard against her mouth with her hands winding in the sheets--is something else entirely.

She wants to feel Dani lose control, wants to feel Dani surrender to this allowance she gives herself only when alone with Jamie. Three years now, and it’s still such a special occasion, Dani letting herself unbind all those ties holding her steady.

“You don’t have to be anyone with me,” Jamie has whispered on more than one occasion. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Not,” Dani has said every time, a distance in her eyes Jamie wishes she could banish. “Not with you. Never with you.”

For everyone else goes unsaid. For everyone else, I have to. Jamie understands. Jamie can’t imagine what she’s been through, what she still goes through on days when the demons have sharpened their claws and come to call.

She pulls at Dani now, easing her up on her knees, guiding her back down onto Jamie’s lap. Hands at Dani’s hips, she urges her to rock, to slide a hand around Jamie’s neck and press her forehead into slick skin and give herself up to Jamie’s hand between them. It’s satisfying, how Dani sighs and arches, how Dani hisses when Jamie sucks a fresh mark into her neck. It’s satisfying, Dani’s hair plastered with sweat, her mouth a red smear as she kisses Jamie hard, her hips bucking as she rides plunging fingers.

Undone, thinks Jamie with an unbidden sense of pride. It’s the one thing Dani refuses to be most of the time, the one thing Dani seems to fear anyone thinking of her as. Undone. Untethered. Incapable of holding firm.

Here, in this bed, Jamie’s name on her lips, Jamie’s mouth on her skin, Jamie coaxing her toward a break, is the only time she allows it. The only time her discipline slips. Here, pushing Jamie down, holding her with a hand firm against her sternum, gazing down at her with lidded eyes as she bucks, writhes, comes with a long cry, is the only time she truly lets go.

It’s an art, the way Dani holds herself in front of others. An art, making sure no one can ever see what lurks behind her smile--be it demon or defense against a cruel world. It is, as art is meant to be, gorgeous to behold, fascinating in its clarity.

But this: Dani allowing herself to slide up the bed, to lower herself down over Jamie’s mouth, gripping the headboard with one hand and Jamie’s hair with the other, is something else entirely. Dani, allowing herself the slow climb, the roll of hips as her knees press into the pillow, as Jamie spreads her with tongue and hot want, is truly herself in these moments. Not haunted. Not poised. She is only taut muscle, trembling limb, breathy exuberance. She is only Jamie’s, the only way Jamie would ever ask her to be.

Three years down, who knows how many more to come, and there will be shadows. There will be things they cannot carry into the dark, and days neither feels strong enough to walk the road ahead. There will be times Dani’s control will feel like the only thing keeping her hand in Jamie’s, the only thing keeping her from abandoning this life they’ve built for the ease of terror. And there will be times like these--times in bedrooms and hotel rooms, times with Dani nodding off against her as a movie plays, times where Dani leans back and lets Jamie look beneath the bed for monsters. Times where she will walk with eyes closed into whatever garden Jamie leads her.

And on those days, she will look exactly as she does the morning after: Jamie’s shirt buttoned badly over bare skin, a mark peeking out from beneath the collar, her eyes tired and her hair wrecked. She will stumble out of the bedroom in search of coffee, find herself distracted by Jamie on the couch with slow kisses that feel like a challenge. There will be no rap at the door, no intrusion on the space built so carefully between them, and Jamie will feel as though there is nothing so close to equilibrium as Dani folded with her in the quiet of their living room, her fingers in Jamie’s hair, her lips tracing Jamie’s cheeks.

There is no version of Dani Clayton Jamie does not adore. No version of her--brave, frightened, miserable, thrilled--Jamie cannot love. She learned it early, and she learned it well: there is nothing Dani can be she isn’t uniquely designed to crave.

Still. This version, the one who sits astride her on the couch with hands cupping the back of her head, tilting Jamie backward until she meets laughing eyes. This version, bare-legged and moving in with slow deliberation as she bends and teases Jamie’s lips apart with soft curl of tongue. This version, sleepy and happy and warm as she molds her body to fit every curve of Jamie’s.

This one, this version of Dani shared with no one else, is a triumph. The truest art. Worthy only of Jamie’s unending gratitude.

She kisses, and allows herself to be kissed, and thinks there is no place Dani is better suited than right here.

#fanfiction #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #damie #control one-shots #here: an olive branch to make up for the last one #really I always intended this to be finished today #just turned out I needed a quick ficlet to warm up

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Flawless (7)

Con Artist AU. masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, PTSD, violence, sex

Before we get started here, you all need to know that Flawless will be going on a mini-hiatus. This chapter is the end of my original outline, and I need to spend some time planning out the next plot arc before I write the next chapter.

(Also, shoutout to the lovely humans who translated the line in French. Y’all are the real MVPs.)

Anyway, this is it. The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The heist. It feels so surreal to finally write it. As always, thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. ❤

*****

In the shadow of its brightly illuminated landmarks, Paris hummed to the tune of debauchery.

Paparazzi gathered around the Louvre’s glass pyramid, waiting to capture a clear picture of a celebrity guest entering the afterparty. Riley shielded her face with her clutch as she walked in, careful to remain unidentifiable in the barrage of photos. The gold buttons on her emerald jacket-dress caught the warm light emanating from the pyramid and the bright camera flashes. She was well dressed, but not enough to stand out. Tonight, Riley needed to blend in.

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure the loose curls covered her earpiece. For the sake of stealth, the team’s comms were skin color, but they were Nikki and Cage’s skin color, not Riley’s.

Riley was half-tempted to throw her comms into one of the fountains out of spite.

She was the last of the Five Eyes to arrive. They staggered their arrivals to avoid being associated with one another, as a precaution. Pulse thrumming in anticipation, Riley bounced on her toes slightly as she waited in line to check in. The Louvre security team meticulously checked each guest’s ID against the guest list; there would be no party crashers tonight.

It had been all too easy for Riley to add the Five Eyes’ cover identities to the guest list a week ago. Now, she handed the stone-faced security guard a drivers’ license bearing her face and the name “Danika Jackson.” Returning her ID with a nod, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Riley to enter the party.

Everyone is responsible for their own entrance and exit. That was her new rule. She got everyone’s names added to the guest list, but her assistance ended there. If someone ran into trouble, it was on them to bail themselves out.

Riley had learned that rule from her mentor when she first dipped her toes into the world of two-faced schemes and nimble-fingered cons, but she never truly understood it—or saw the need to enforce it—until she felt the bite of handcuffs digging into her wrists.

It was a mistake she’d never make again.

Riley strolled through the hallway bearing massive Italian paintings, slowly making her way to the room containing the most overrated painting of all time—and the rendezvous point.

The Mona Lisa room was empty aside from a blonde woman in a beaded, blood-red cocktail dress standing much too close to the glass-encased painting. Riley stood to the woman’s right and studied the painting as well. It was underwhelming.

“You’d think the most beautiful woman in art would be wearing a prettier dress,” Nikki remarked.

Riley snorted, crossing her arms. “Says the woman who just bought a four-thousand-dollar cheetah print pantsuit.”

Nikki feigned offence. “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull it off. Anyway, quiz time. What year did da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?”

“1503,” Riley answered easily. “And the woman’s name is Lisa del Giocondo.” Nikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s that look for?”

“I didn’t think you actually listen when I talk about art.”

Riley offered her friend a small smile. “I’m always listening to you.” The sound of heels clicking down the hall made them pause. When the coast was clear, Riley murmured, “Is everyone in position?”

“Yeah. Desi and Sam should be inside already, and Jill checked in a few guests in front of me.”

“How did that go?”

“Easy peasy.” Nikki glanced at Riley and softened her tone. “Are we sure Jill is ready for this?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Don’t forget, it was your idea to recruit her.”

Nikki turned back to the Mona Lisa. “You know, you really do suck at pep talks.”

“Oh shut up.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want control room duty?”

Nikki spared her a sideways glance. “I’ll do it. You did it last time.” Her second sentence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the job gone horribly wrong. And a reminder of all the things they still hadn’t talked about.

Riley brushed it aside. They could talk after they were each forty million dollars richer.

Pulling a flash drive hidden inside an old lipstick tube out of her clutch, Riley instructed, “Plug this in, and it’ll do half the work for you.”

“Thanks.” Nikki put the tube in her own purse. “See you on the other side.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki parroted, and Riley strode down the hall toward the party.

She followed the pulsing music and the stream of guests to a room in the far corner of the museum, passing the employee door Nikki would sneak into along the way. Crossing the threshold, she couldn’t conceal her gasp. Riley had seen plenty of opulent rooms over the years, but the Galerie d’Apollon was something else entirely. Gold moulding framed the dozens of paintings covering the walls and the arched ceiling. Display cases containing the French Crown Jewels formed a line down the middle of the rectangular room. Despite the party’s couture dress code, the bedazzled guests looked entirely underdressed compared to the grandeur of the gallery.

She only let herself be awestruck for a few seconds before getting to work, marking the exits and security cameras. Riley didn’t like how deep the gallery was in the museum—and how far she would have to walk to make a clean escape with the jewels.

She would be the one walking out with them. No one else. Riley had made that crystal clear during the team planning meeting a few days ago.

Draped in black fabric, the case containing the designer jewelry sat in the middle of the gallery. A security guard stood by it, no doubt to ward off nosey guests wanting a sneak peek.

A wave of nausea passed through her, reminding Riley that the closest thing to a substantial meal she’d eaten all day was the two pastries she ate a few hours ago. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, heading for the snack table. Jill was already there, gorging herself on bread and cheese. Eyes wide, the blonde froze as Riley sidled next to her, evidently thinking she was in trouble.

But Riley simply reached for a piece of bread and asked, “Which cheese is the best?”

Exhaling audibly, Jill pointed a manicured, light blue nail. “That one.” Riley tried it. Jill was right; it was delicious.

“You ready, Blondie?” Riley asked, lowering her voice. “There’s no job unless you get this right.”

Jill rolled her shoulders back, snarking, “No pressure or anything.” There was a bite to her words, one Riley noticed only came out when someone, namely her, pushed the blonde a little too far.

“Sorry,” Riley said, and she meant it. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. Commit.”

Jill merely nodded, swallowing another piece of cheese.

Riley wandered off, not wanting to stay with Jill too long. With her back to a wall, she scanned the room in search of Desi and Cage. When she didn’t see them on her first sweep, Riley furrowed her brow. Where the hell were they?

A bright laugh carried across the room—Cage. There you are, Riley thought. She spied her teammate enjoying the spotlight in the center of a group of models all cooing over Cage’s pale pink dress. It suited Cage, with its billowy sleeves and flowy skirt that hit just below her knees. Cage giggled again, putting her hand on a woman’s shoulder a little too boldly for the gesture to be casual.

Predictably, Desi wasn’t far away, staring daggers at her shameless flirt of a girlfriend.

Riley unmuted her comms. “Easy there, Des. It’s just an act.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she snapped. Even from a distance, Riley could see Desi’s tight grip on her champagne flute.

Riley cooed, “So jealous.”

The woman wrapped a proprietary arm around Cage, clearly welcome to the blonde’s advances, and Cage beamed at her.

It was enough to push Desi over the edge. “Don’t forget whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight, Samantha,” she snarled. “And I don’t remember agreeing to share.”

Cage excused herself from the group. “My love, did it ever occur to you that I’m making you jealous on purpose? Because we both know—”

Nikki cut her off, rescuing the team from whatever filthy thing was about to come out of Cage’s mouth. “Don’t be gross, you two.” Riley stifled a laugh. She and Nikki had been subjected to many things they didn’t want to hear over the years. This would hardly faze her now.

Focus. They needed to focus.

Riley finally spotted the sharp-eyed assistant she noticed at the runway show. Always two steps behind the designer, the young woman obediently trailed him as he floated from group to group. The assistant finished her drink, setting it on the tray of a passing waiter, and strode toward the main hallway in this wing of the museum.

“I think she’s going to the bathroom,” Jill said. “Do I follow her?”

Snagging a drink of her own, Riley answered, “No. Bump into her when she comes back.” She watched Jill make her way toward the far side of the gallery, ready to intercept the assistant and steal her keys.

Everything was going to plan. Jill just had to steal the keys, and then all they had to do was hurry up and wait for the big reveal. Eight o’clock, Riley was told upon arrival. The designer would commence his speech at eight, then reveal his masterpiece to the world.

Riley checked her watch. Thirty more minutes.

She knew she’d been standing in this spot for too long already, but Riley was loath to give up the relative safety of having a wall at her back. The twinge of fear she’d felt earlier at the runway show came raging to the surface, rooting her stiletto-clad feet in place. Leaving the wall meant having people in her blind spot. No one’s going to hurt me, Riley promised herself. This is a party, not a prison.

Her legs felt like lead weights, but Riley forced herself to re-enter the crowd, one agonizing stride at a time. She made it as far as the nearest display case before she had to stop, and her eyes landed on a tiara resting in the center of the display. Countless tiny diamonds formed flowery swoops and swirls, with a handful of emeralds scattered between them, filling what would otherwise be empty spaces. In the center, the diamonds framed a large, round emerald, mimicking the shape of a flower.

It was exactly what Riley would have stolen had the Five Eyes agreed to rob the Louvre itself, rather than this party. Maybe she’d come back for it, one day.

Using the case as a pseudo-wall, Riley took a deep breath and re-scanned the room in search of Jill. Unsurprisingly, Jill was exactly where Riley had last seen her.

She kept an eye on the recruit, knowing Desi and Cage were doing the same. Riley was impressed; Jill had quickly figured out how to linger without being obvious she was waiting for something. Jill mindlessly pushed up her glasses—the only visible sign of her nerves—and the movement drew Riley’s attention.

But not to Jill.

To another blond head, far behind her. One Riley desperately hoped to never see again.

“We have a problem,” Desi said.

“I saw.”

Nikki’s ex-boyfriend stalked into the gallery, a taller, older man at his heels like a shadow—the same men who chased Riley, Nikki, and Jill through the taco shop a few weeks ago.

Fuck.

Ducking her head to avoid being spotted, Riley hissed, “Nik, get your ass to the control room and lock the door behind you. We’ve got company.”

“Already here. Accessing system controls as we speak. Whoever designed the security system in this place should be fired, because this is ridiculously simple. I should’ve left it in French just to keep it interesting.” A pause. "Who's here? Wait. No. Let me guess. Interpol? The mob? That bitchy designer I once robbed point-blank?"

"Your ex."

"Oh."

"You didn't tell him about our dream job, did you?" The words came out a little too accusatory, but Riley didn't care. She needed to know.

"No! Of course I didn't. He— Look, I don't know why he's here, and we can figure that out later. Right now, you need to keep him busy. He's smart, Riles. Maybe even smarter than you. Be careful."

Riley scoffed. "Smarter than me? We'll see about that."

"I'm serious, Riley."

But Riley ignored her, instead giving instructions of her own. "Cage, you watch Jill. Des—"

"I've got the big one." Classic Desi, never letting her finish a sentence and yet always knowing what she was going to say. The habit was obnoxious at first, but over time Riley learned to appreciate it. "See the bulge on his left side? He keeps touching it." Desi said. "He's armed."

“He’s what?” Jill exclaimed.

Chuckling, Desi said, “Now look at my left side. We match.” A small, terrified squeak was the only response. “Well, what did you think I meant when I told you I’m the team’s exfil specialist?”

“Not that!”

“And Nik’s ex?” Riley asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Seems clean.”

“He is,” Nikki confirmed. “Mac hates guns.”

“You know,” Riley said, studying the larger of the two men, “The other one kind of looks like a guy who dated my mom once.”

“Really?” Desi asked. “Think he’s the same guy?”

Riley took a closer look. He was tall, with broad, muscled shoulders and a buzzed haircut, and considering how often he fidgeted with his tie, he didn’t get dressed up often. He smiled at a passing waitress. He had an open, friendly smile, which totally contrasted with the systematic way he scanned the room. “Nah.”

Jill squawked, “Wait! Are we really still going through with this? Didn’t it just get a whole lot harder?”

“You say harder, I say more fun,” Cage said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.”

Jill, it seemed, wasn’t so easily reassured. “Am I the only one who sees this is a trap?”

“It’s only a trap when you don’t know about it. When you do, it’s a challenge,” Riley said.

“But what if the plan goes wrong? Then what?”

At the same time, all four women answered, “Improvise.”

Riley muted her comms as she approached Nikki’s ex; Jill didn’t need the added distraction. Help her, Riley pleaded with the universe. You owe me.

Pushing her concerns about Jill to the back of her mind, Riley studied her target. There was a champagne flute in the spy’s hand, but he didn’t drink it—not even a sip—and his methodical gaze swept the room, no doubt making note of each guest and who they interacted with.

He was cute, she had to admit. Definitely Nikki’s type.

Purposefully not watching where she was going, Riley collided with him, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink onto her shoes. She pretended to stumble, and his free hand caught her waist, ensuring Riley stayed upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Pardon me.”

His hand left her side. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you?”

Don’t lie. Evade. Her former mentor taught her that.

Riley smirked. “I bet you use that line on every beautiful woman you stumble into.”

“Only when I’m too blown away to say something original.” He winked.

Maybe this would be easier than Riley anticipated. “Care to wander the museum with me while you practice your next line?”

“Normally I would, but I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not looking to start anything new.”

So much for that plan.

His honesty, however, was surprising.

“Not even a little fun?” she goaded, but Nikki’s ex declined once more before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd.

At least Desi had better luck keeping the other spy occupied. She had him cornered, her body carefully angled to prevent him from seeing the slight bulge from the gun hidden in her dress. The plunging neckline had two purposes—easy access to the gun holstered at her side while providing a distracting view of her chest and intricate tattoos. It was just enough to snag wandering eyes and keep them focused on the front of her body, rather than the side. To the spy’s credit, his eyes remained pointedly fixed on Desi’s face.

“Got the keys,” Jill announced. Perfect timing.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work, Blondie.”

Now, all they had to do was wait.

*****

While the designer yammered some pretentious bullshit about fine jewelry as the centerpiece of fashion and art, Riley slowly pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathering for the reveal. A few feet away, Cage did the same. Across from them—closest to the still-covered jewelry display case—Desi and Jill took their places. None of them were particularly interested by the designer’s speech, but Nikki would be hanging on every word if she were here.

The designer rambled on, explaining how particular pieces among the French Crown Jewels influenced the designs of his own work. It was awfully arrogant, Riley thought, comparing his own work to such timeless pieces. The longer he spoke, the more Riley disliked him and didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for robbing him.

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Nikki’s ex and his partner seemed content to remain out of the way. For all Riley cared, they could stay there all night.

The gallery lights flickered once. A few guests glanced up nervously, but the majority remained transfixed on the designer.

Nikki’s voice crackled through the comms. “Everyone ready? Nod once if you are.” Riley nodded. One by one, so did everyone else. “Alrighty then. Lights out in five…”

Riley counted the number of paces between her and Cage—six.

“Four…”

Paces from Cage to the jewelry case—eight.

“Three…”

Paces from the case back to her original position—ten.

Two…

Closing her eyes, Riley waited.

“One.”

Several women shrieked when the lights went out.

Riley opened her eyes, and before they’d even adjusted to the dark, she strode toward Cage. Six steps. She collided with Cage, dropping her purse on the ground and taking Cage’s identical one, containing replicas of the necklace and earrings.

Cage shouted that someone stole her purse, causing a scene. She’d chatted and flirted with enough people throughout the night for her voice to be easily recognized, and a murmur broke out among the agitated crowd, creating just enough background noise to cover the sound of Riley’s heels clicking on the floor.

Eight steps to the back side of the jewelry display. Riley could just make out Jill and Desi unlocking the case with the assistant’s keys. She braced for an alarm to sound, but there was nothing. Atta girl, Nikki.

Riley opened the purse. Carefully, Desi replaced the real jewels with the fakes, depositing the real ones inside Cage’s purse.

Jill locked the case and replaced the cover, and Riley returned to her original position among the crowd. The designer and his assistant remained oblivious to what transpired behind them, even as Jill slipped the keys back into the assistant’s dress pocket.

“Lights on in three,” Nikki warned.

Emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh white light over the murmuring crowd. A man angrily questioned what happened, followed by a chorus of “Yeah, what he said!”s in a variety of languages. The assistant urged the crowd to remain calm, promising everything would be sorted out shortly.

Riley looked over her shoulder, searching for Nikki’s ex. He was nowhere to be found. She narrowed her eyes, but with two hundred million dollars worth of jewelry in her hand, Riley decided she didn’t particularly care.

The woman Cage flirted with the longest stepped forward, picking up the purse Riley had tossed near Cage’s feet. “Isn’t this your purse?” she asked Cage.

Riley’s teammate feigned embarrassment, gracefully reclaiming the purse. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.”

Just as an outraged Cage exclaimed the purse was empty, Riley melted into the dispersing crowd, slowly making her way toward the museum’s exit. That was the plan. She’d leave first, and once she escaped with the jewels, everyone else would exit as well.

Riley retraced her steps, heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the museum’s endless long hallways. She didn’t look at any of the art as she passed, not even a single glance. Art had always been more Nikki’s thing than hers.

Weaving her way back to the exit, Riley prayed Nikki hadn’t missed any of the cameras. She was supposed to loop them all, allowing Riley to leave the museum unseen. But with each additional camera—some obvious, some not—Riley’s anxiety rose.

Nikki knows what she’s doing, Riley reminded herself. She won’t let anything happen to me.

Two years ago, that reassurance would’ve been enough.

Now, her distrusting brain shot back, Are you sure?

Riley didn’t dignify it with a response.

Passing the museum’s security checkpoint, Riley smiled at a bored-looking security guard. “Vous partez déjà?” he asked.

Riley hoped the security guard asked why she was leaving so soon. She never did get around to brushing up on her French. “Oui, I have a flight to catch.” Not a lie, although the flight wouldn’t take off until early tomorrow morning.

The crisp night breeze prickled Riley’s bare skin. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. For the first time that night, Riley finally felt her body start to relax. The vast, empty plaza felt so much safer than the packed gallery. Still not safe enough to let her guard down, but safer. Riley slipped her hand into the purse, fingers closing around an earring. It was surprisingly heavy in her palm.

Another flawless job. The Five Eyes were back in business.

She was halfway across the plaza when Nikki started cursing, but Riley didn’t slow. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. The job was done. No turning back now.

There was a distinct male voice in the background, but Riley couldn’t make out what he said.

“What do you mean, ‘I had a feeling you’d be here’?” Nikki demanded. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mac, and I know you didn’t track me here on your own.”

Her ex’s voice was nothing more than a low, indiscernible rumble.

“What?” Nikki whispered, her voice breaking mid-word.

As much as Riley wanted to know what he said, she kept walking. But that didn’t stop the others from hissing Nikki’s name, demanding to know what was going on.

Nikki yelped, and then the male voice purred, loud and clear, “I know you’re listening, Riley. Why don’t we go on that little walk now?”

With a cold laugh, Riley said, “In your fucking dreams.” How did he know her name? As far as she knew, Nikki never mentioned her.

Still, she kept walking. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. No matter what.

Riley muted her comms, and Nikki’s piercing shriek filled her ear. A muffled grunt followed.

Then nothing.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

“Riley, you need to come back,” Jill pleaded. “Nikki needs help.”

She didn’t answer, clenching her jaw with the effort to keep silent. An airplane flew overhead, and Riley tracked its path across the sky. Every step brought Riley closer to her own flight home—and the freedom that entailed. Turning around now would only put that in jeopardy.

But every step also took her away from her best friend. The woman she once believed she’d do anything for.

Jill was overreacting, Riley reasoned. Nikki was more than capable of getting herself out of a bind. Riley lost track of the number of impossible situations she and Nikki had found themselves in over the years, and they always found a way to escape.

“Sam is getting Jill out,” Desi said, slightly out of breath. “Riles, I don’t think I can get Nikki out on my own. Jill is right. You need to come back.”

Riley faltered. If Desi thought there was a problem, then something must’ve gone really, really wrong.

Maybe Jill wasn’t overreacting after all.

“Des—” Cage started. “They opened the case.”

“So?”

“They know the jewels are fake. If Riley comes back, it won’t just be Nikki going to prison.”

Prison.

Riley didn’t think she was breathing. Heart thudding wildly, her stomach tied itself into knots, and her clothes became damp with sweat. The sense of safety she’d felt earlier was gone, and Riley fought the urge to run. Every little noise—traffic, pedestrian chatter, a siren in the distance—was coming for her, ready to drag her into some dark hole she’d never emerge from.

Nothing was logical anymore, like the part of her brain capable of rational thought had gone to sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to wake up, but it was no use.

Run, while you still have the chance, her body screamed.

Everyone is responsible for their own exit, her brain repeated.

She needed to turn around. Nikki couldn’t go to prison.

Two years ago, Riley had gone to prison in Nikki’s stead. She let herself be arrested to protect her friends. Her family.

If Nikki went to prison now, then Riley’s sacrifice would be in vain.

But Riley’s body refused to turn around. Her worst memories from prison flashed before her eyes—ones Riley desperately wanted to forget—like a cougar crouching in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment she was at her weakest to pounce.

She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t go through that again.

She wouldn’t survive it twice.

“Riles,” Nikki pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?”

Run, that voice in her head said. Don’t look back.

Her steps were slower now, less sure. But Riley didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

“I need you.”

Save yourself, girl.

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered, but her comms were still muted. With a shaking hand, Riley unmuted them one last time.

It’s better this way, the voice promised. You’ll see.

It was all too easy to slip into the brutal, emotionless persona she’d built while in prison, the process having become instinct. It was necessary then, to keep her safe and alive. Now, it did the same, preventing Riley from making a mistake every cell in her body knew she wouldn’t come back from.

In a cold, unflinching voice, Riley said, “Everyone is responsible for their own exit.”

She threw her earpiece into a nearby fountain, and the click of her stilettos echoed in the night.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @losingitovermacriley / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @holbytlanna /

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #riley davis #nikki carpenter #desiree nguyen #samantha cage #jill morgan #angus macgyver #jack dalton #<- look who's back

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years ago

Note

Hmmm how we feeling about Rhoam forcing Huni to wear a chastity belt because the bitch is such a massive fucking whore?

I love the give and take we have. You give me Rhoam smut, I give you...Rhoam smutt- point is i love trading shit with people. Let's go!

"You crossed a LINE last night."

"You got your nut, why are you STILL complaining?"

He turned to Huni, who had just risen up from bed. He was flipping through the breakfast menu, thinking of maybe sausage and eggs, when Rhoam snatched it from him, forcing Huni to look at him.

"Because you embarrassed me. My reputation is one of the few things I'll take to my grave, ergo, it is VERY important to me."

He grabbed a hold of his hair, ignoring his cries as he forced his gaze up at him.

"Hey hey hey you JACKASS!"

Rhoam pulled something from underneath his bed. It was made of metal, leather, and a touch of gold in the front, in the shape of the Hyrule royal crest. Huni wasn’t a genius, but he knew he was looking at a whore's worst nightmare; a chastity belt. Rhoam gestured at the belt.

"You're going to sit there and let me put it on you."

"Like HELL I am! So I hit on Daruk and let everyone know you’re a horny old fuck! You're making a big deal of this!"

"You will put it on, or I WILL punish you far more harshly."

Huni stuck his tongue out at him. What's the WORST his old ass could think of?

"Oh yeah?! Like WHAT?"

His grip grew tighter as he pulled him closer to his face.

"You will get a HUGE dock in your allowance. You can kiss your personal chefs, your shower hands, and even your play room goodbye. You can say goodbye to your fancy clothes, your fancy shoes, your jewelry. And, if that isn't enough, I will keep your data pad, and keep you in the maids quarters until further notice. I. Am not. Playing. Huni."

Whoa. Tone like that, glare like that, he WAS serious. Huni could kiss all this nice stuff goodbye if he didn't give old beard bastard what he wanted. He nodded meekly.

"I...okay. I understand."

"Good."

Rhoam let go of his hair, then proceeded to put it on Huni. It fit snug on his body. Uncomfortable enough to notice, but not enough for it to be unbearable. He clicked his tongue.

"Ugh. It's hideous. Can't believe you got it for me."

"It belongs in the family. Don't consider yourself special."

"Wait you just. HAVE this?"

"For emergencies."

Huni threw his hands in the air.

"What-an EMERGENCY? A chastity emergency?"

"Yes, because you can't keep your damn legs shut, like a proper spouse."

"A proper w-"

Huni wanted to ask what the hell he meant, when he heard that click. Rhoam had just locked it, making a show of holding the key in his hand.

"This is the very thing that keeps you for me, and me alone. When you EARN it, you may have the key back. Until then, it stays with me."

Rhoam put the chain around his neck, and Huni scoffed.

"You really think this is gonna work."

"I do. A whore can only hold their pride for so long."

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

Huni was having an awful, terrible night. He had just gotten back from dinner, but his body wasn't sated with food. An entire month in this stupid thing, and things were getting to him. Guards couldn't rub his pussy, he couldn’t touch himself, humping did nothing- it was bullshit. What was even worse? Rhoam didn't care. All he did was taunt him by wearing that stupid key around his neck, and fucking maids.

"You're a SLUT, Jessica, get the fuck out of my hallway."

He saw her just the other night, bouncing on his cock like it was a pogo stick. Every maid would LOVE to take his place, and would be his fleshlight if they had to in order to get it. Especially fucking Jessica, putting her blonde hair in a bun and constantly not wearing underwear. Fucking slut. He made his way to Rhoam's room. He was currently in his bath, and that was when he saw it. The key, just hung on the bed post.

"He wouldn't mind. Just for a few minutes, then I'll put it back on."

Huni reached for it, only to suddenly have Rhoam's grip around his wrist. He was in his bathrobe, still wet.

"Ah, but I would, my dear."

He plucked the key from where it hung, before putting it around his neck, and walking towards his mirror, looking at himself as he started to dry his hair. Huni stomped his foot on the floor.

"Oh my god it's no fair, you get to fuck JESSICA's bitch ass, I can't even finger myself!!"

"Jessica has nice legs. Yours won't open, and you have no one to blame but yourself."

Huni damn near wanted to slap his shit in.

"FINE. What do you want for the fucking key?"

"You must earn it."

"Quit the cryptic shit, what do you want?"

Rhoam moved away from the mirror, and laid in bed, putting his hands behind his head.

"Reach into the dresser for my oil. And massage me. Maybe, if you do it nicely, better than Amber does, you'll be on your path to the key."

"Amber-HOW MANY MAIDS ARE YOU FUCKING?!"

"The list of maids I'm NOT fucking would be shorter. Now, get to it."

Huni grumbled to himself, hopping into bed. He un did Rhoam's robe, and grumbled at the sight of his cock. Apparently this thing was just SO important, HIS junk had to be kept in a cage. Fucking asshole. He oiled up his hands, before grabbing onto his cock. Fucking hell. He forgot how...thick he was.

"Don't forget the testicles, love."

"Don't fucking use that. Say balls. Normal people say balls."

"You're cute when you're angry."

Huni swore under his breath, before using his other hand to massage his balls. They were huge, old, covered in plenty of snow white pubic hair. He massaged them in his hands, enough to make Rhoam close his eyes, and sigh in content. He was enjoying this.

"Your old man balls are big and fucking gross. I hate it."

"And my penis?"

"Again with the fucking- I hate it too. I just started and you're throbbing in my hand."

"Your hands are soft. And you just did your nails. I like it when you have them long like that."

He really did. His cock had hardened, adding precum to the mess on Huni's hands.

"I do them for me, not for you asshole. Now fucking cum."

"So impatient. You aren't even doing it like you want me to finish. Faster. And grip my-"

Huni knew what his ass wanted. His hand picked up the pace on his cock, his hand tightened against his balls. Rhoam sat there, panting and gripping onto the sheets below. Letting out a loud, gross moan, he came, right all over Huni's hands. It was a messy amount of cum, getting anywhere and everywhere. Huni winced at the mess, but he knew his pussy craved it. His pussy missed the idea of being filled again.

"There. Now can I have the stupid fucking key?"

"Not...quite, my dear."

Rhoam pulled him back by his hair, and before Huni knew it, Rhoam's weight was on top of him, keping him down as he rammed his cum covered cock in his throat. He tried to push his fatass off of him, but as he laid there, head being forced in place by Rhoam's hands, cock slamming into his throat, he realized he was helpless.

"That's it. You're going to EARN your pussy again, aren’t you?"

Cum leaked down his mouth and onto his face, being only smeared by Rhoam's fast, aggressive thrusts. Huni couldn't fucking breath under all this pile of old man. Thankfully, Rhoam didn't last long. Stuffing himself fully into his mouth (until his fat balls pressed against his throat), before dumping another load into his mouth. Thick, hot, salty. Rhoam Findlay pulled away, letting poor Huni breathe. Rhoam chuckled, lightly smacking his cheek.

"Say thank you."

"T...thank you."

He coughed, spitting out so much cum onto the floor.

"You seem upset, dear."

"Just. Give me the FUCKING key."

"Tell me what for. Use your words like a big boy."

Huni swore under his breath, SO tempted to grab Rhoam's ass, just to get a rise out of him.

"So...so you can stuff my pussy with your gross, old man cock. So you can put all that cum inside me, because daddy likes putting his cum inside of me."

"Hmmm...."

Rhoam removed the key from his neck, dangling it in front of Huni. He reached out for it, only to have Rhoam laugh as he plucked it away.

"Oh, you thought it was THAT easy, Huni? You do this a couple times a week for me. No, you need to EARN this little key back. So, we're going to do something...dirty."

"The fuck are you-"

Rhoam held onto Huni's head as he sat right onto Huni's face. His little whore tongue felt good in his ass.

"That's it my dear. Taste me, nice and properly. You have MUCH, MUCH work to do~"

#asks #lemon #huni #rhoam #listen #I'd eat that ass #men deserve to have thier ass ate

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ootori-sibs · 4 years ago

Text

The Ootori princess

Chapter 7: That dream

Kyoya was very pleased that his friends liked his new room, and he had been happy to show them around the rest of the garden. After they'd seen everything Kyoya was aware of, they sat in the garden, drinking lemonade and eating sugar cookies. It was different from how they usually hung out, there wasn't any purpose to this, they had no goal in mind. They were relaxed… it was new to Kyoya to be so calm and still with the hosts, with his friends.

It was Kyoya's first time in the back garden, and it was very pretty; there were a couple of big flower patches, some lovely looking fruit trees, and a little vegetable patch tucked away in the corner. The thing that surprised Kyoya, however, was the chickens, Yuuichi hadn't told him there were chickens. This was amazing, he had a hen on his lap at that moment, he wasn't petting it but he wished to know its name. The other hosts definitely enjoyed the presence of the chickens as well, playing with them happily. Kyoya liked the garden, it was very nice. There was a lot of sun- the mansion was angled in such a way to catch the sun.

It wasn't Kyoya's fault, he closed his eyes for just a second. He hadn't expected to find himself in a flowerfield, with chickens running about among the undergrowth. It was a lovely scene, with the sun shining brightly down on him, not burning but simply warming him. Kyoya felt so incredibly free; the flowers and grass brushing against his bare skin felt great, he almost wanted to twirl- and there was no one around to see him, so he did.

He rushed around amongst the flowers, the chickens quick on his heels. It felt amazing, everything felt so amazing. It was almost like the welling in his chest when someone told him they were proud of him, but so much better. There wasn't even any lense flare in his glasses for once- which was an incredibly rare occurrence for Kyoya. He simply ran and ran and ran- never seeming to get tired for some unknown reason.

Until he did see a lense flare.

It didn't come from his glasses, no, it came from something in the distance. So Kyoya ran towards it naturally, the chickens began to make louder and louder squawks, clearly just as excited as Kyoya- although for what he could not say.

He finally reached the object that had been calling to him, it was a large, floor length mirror, somehow suspended in midair. It was gold and extremely intricate- though that wasn't what made Kyoya stop in her tracks.

She was wearing a sundress, a lovely white one with a gold belt of a soft and shiny fabric, her hair was so long it reached her shoulders, held out of her eyes with an alice band. The dress was short and flowing, rippling in a breeze that was evidently there now. The girls nails were painted white, they matched her dress nicely, as well as the little white dolly shoes. There was something about the girls face; her lips were a light violet colour and her eyelashes so pleasantly done, her eyebrows were smaller and perfectly neat, she was positively glowing.

There was something in her eyes too, something that Kyoya never had- Kyoya couldn't tell you what it was, in her eyes, but the girl seemed to know- Kyoya wanted to ask her. She was so radiant, so beautiful. She was the kind of girl everyone would fall in love with, she was the kind of girl people would want to be around, she was everything Kyoya failed to be.

...and he loved her.

Kyoya must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, the sun was in a different position and the hosts were all happily talking to Yuuichi. Wow, he must have been asleep for a long time if Yuuichi was home already. Yuuichi seemed to notice Kyoya was awake and smiled, "did you just leave your poor friends to entertain themselves while you took a nap? Honestly Kyoya, I can't leave you alone for five minutes can I?" He was clearly joking, hands on his hips and he was smiling, but Kyoya felt a jolt of panic hit him as he realised he had done just that.

He sat up straight, scaring away the poor hen that had been resting on his lap, adjusting his glasses, he hung his head in shame, "ah, my apologies. In my defense, someone should have woken me."

"Senpai are you mad?" Hikaru blurted out, looking at him in kind of annoyed shock, "have you seen what you're like when you've just woken up?? We'd rather not die thank you very much."

Kyoya supposed he had to concede that Hikaru had a point, he wasn't the best person when he just woke up. Yuuichi went back inside- presumably to make dinner, whilst everyone else resumed whatever they had been up to. Kyoya didn't get any time to process anything that was happening when Tamaki sat opposite him at the table, smiling, "so what was your dream about?"

Kyoya's dream? Well- oh… what was that about?? Kyoya barely remembered anything from his dream, only… that girl. Kyoya had a sinking feeling he knew what that dream had been about. "I, uh, well I don't really remember," he lied to Tamaki, hoping the king would drop it.

“Aw, shame,” he smiled, taking a sip of lemonade through the straw, “dreams are very important, my mother used to say that they could show a window into the soul!” He beamed, unaware of how his words made Kyoya’s skin crawl… surely it’s just more of Tamaki’s nonsense, the dream was senseless imagery- nothing to dwell on… right?

He just nodded, “a real shame.” He and the hosts headed inside, finding their way to the living room. Yuuichi was letting them play his video games, so they all positioned themselves around the sofa as Tamaki and the twins grabbed the only three controllers. They were just playing some dumb racing game, Kyoya wasn’t really paying attention but it was fun to see the boys get so competitive. He just leant back and relaxed with his drink, picking the feathers from his trousers as he was watching them play.

But he couldn’t relax, he couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. He could only remember one thing; his reflection, that damned girl. Tamaki had said dreams were important but Kyoya didn’t really want it to be. He’d had the nagging feeling that something was wrong for a while now, he realised, it had only been amplified by Haruhi coming out. Kyoya remembered all the times he had worn a dress for a club theme, all of two times; the first had been when they dressed in drag for Tamaki’s dumb scheme to keep Haruhi, then the second time was when he dressed as the black queen for the wonderland theme- he remembered Tamaki helping him with the corset, he remembered the feeling of the skirt before the frame was put in- it was wonderful. Kyoya hated to think about how he’d looked in the mirror, with his hair extensions and his wonderful makeup, he had adored the way he’d looked, it had made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He had tried on the dress yesterday- the green one. It had made him feel the same way; that warm and almost glowing feeling- it had terrified him to his core.

He was half tempted to ask Haruhi to explain the gender thing again, but he knew that it wouldn’t help- it would just panic him further. Kyoya knew what the issue was, he’d known it for a while he thought- every time he wore something even remotely feminine, the way how heart swelled and he felt a strange sense of belonging; like everything about him was screaming out that yes, this was him, this was who he was supposed to be. Kyoya was terrified of what he wanted to be.

After a while, Kyoya got to relax a little, as Maddie had come to inform the hosts that dinner was ready. So they made their way to the dining room, where Yuuichi had made a large hotpot containing all the best foods. The hosts were very excited by this, sitting down and happily chattering amongst themselves, Yuuichi joined the talking, happily telling them how his work had been doing. Kyoya was quiet as his friends and his brother talked, he just quietly ate his food. The lovely sound of his friends enjoying themselves did serve to make Kyoya feel a lot better, so he shook the thoughts from his mind and let himself enjoy the time he got to spend with his friends.

The food was great, Kyoya always found food a good distraction from troublesome thoughts. He glanced up from his food to see Yuuichi and Tamaki getting along, oh that was good, Kyoya did feel glad that his big brother enjoyed the company of his crush- always a good sign. Tamaki was telling Yuuichi about some of the themes the club had done, Kyoya was utterly surprised by how approving Yuuichi was of most themes- only showing concern when Tamaki mentions the costumes that had the hosts shirtless, making sure they were all happy with it. Kyoya did think about that… he wasn’t sure if he liked being shirtless, he especially didn’t enjoy getting oggled over by the girls. He definitely preferred the themes that allowed him to wear shirts and- oh no, Tamaki had brought up the wonderland theme, and by extension; the dress Kyoya had worn.

Yuuichi had paused when Tamaki mentioned the dress, and the hair extensions, and the makeup. He’d looked at Kyoya with a strange look in his eyes, one that made Kyoya very anxious before turning back to smile at Tamaki, chuckling, “ah, I’m sure that was fun…” the way Yuuichi trailed off made Kyoya highly uncomfortable, he glanced away as the conversation continued. Kyoya felt like there was someone terribly wrong with him, and he couldn't help but feel as if Yuuichi knew.

After dinner, they had some lovely sponge cake, one that Yuuichi had made just that morning. It was nice, sitting there as his friends talked, it almost made him forget the horrible nagging feeling in his gut. Almost. Nevertheless, the company of his friends was comforting, letting Kyoya let his guard down even further. After that, Yuuichi bid them farewell, as he had work to do and retired to his office. The hosts made their way up back to Kyoya's room, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Kyoya breathed a sigh, shaking any dregs of worry from his mind, the hosts made everything better.

As they walked, Kyoya found himself beside Tamaki, the king smiling happily at him when he looked over. "This is a really nice place Kyoya! Are you having fun here?" Kyoya just nodded in response, looking around the corridor, Tamaki paused at his response, "well you seemed to have something on your mind recently, what's up, mon ami?"

Kyoya paused, not realising his crisis was so plain to see. He definitely didn't want to share his fears, he couldn't imagine how Tamaki might laugh- he hadn't laughed at Haruhi, but that's different… besides, it wasn't like Kyoya was experiencing the same thing he was, it was just a stupid thought. He sighed, shaking his head, "it's nothing Tamaki, don't worry."

"Are you sure..?"

He glanced away, damn Tamaki for being so caring, "stop it Tamaki, I'm fine, everything's fine." Tamaki clearly didn't believe him, but sighed, nodding slowly and walking in silence.

They sat around the room, both Tamaki and Kyoya sat on the bed, Tamaki was hugging the curtains as the twins talked about some sort of nonsense. They'd started on school gossip he thought, oh goodie, Kyoya was excellent at this. He pulled out the drive of information on his phone, joining the conversation quite happily. Finding some very interesting rumours about their clients as he did so.

It was so nice, just to let his guard down around his dear friends. Kyoya knew that a mere two years ago and he wouldn't dare even smile so genuinely, now he was open enough to chuckle. He loved them so dearly, he'd trust them with anything… wouldn't he? The doubt hit him like a little tap on his shoulder, creeping up into his spine as he shivered. No one noticed so he breathed a sigh of relief, laying back on the bed.

Madeline brought them some hot chocolate later on in the evening, it had cream and marshmallows, though Kyoya's had dark chocolate chunks, so he was happy. It was really good hot chocolate too, it instilled Kyoya with a sense of something unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Honey spoke up, smiling, "this is really good! Almost as good as how my maids make it!"

"You guys don't even make your own hot chocolate?" Haruhi was once again surprised by rich people things, bless his soul.

"Of course not, that's what maids are for," was Hikaru's rebuttal, rolling his eyes at the poor commoner.

Haruhi had mumbled something about rich people being morons but Kyoya didn't pay much mind to it, just staring up at the canopy over his bed, there were little silver stars embroidered on it, just over the canopy and not the curtains. He thought it looked really good, Kyoya wasn't one for novel things like that, he hated feeling like a wasteful child, but this was a really nice touch and Kyoya actually found it had helped him sleep the last two nights.

"They're very pretty," Tamaki seemed to read his mind, laying next to him. Kyoya felt his face heat up slightly as he glanced over at Tamaki; the boy was beautiful, he had perfect bone structure, a symmetrical face, large, bright eyes, he definitely used lipgloss- no one's lips are that soft and shiny naturally. Kyoya wondered if he should start wearing lipgloss, but that thought could wait. "Hm?"

"The stars," Tamaki clarified, he must think Kyoya hadn't understood, "they're very nice, who did them?"

"I'm not sure, one of the maids I assume?"

He nodded, "that makes sense, do you like them?"

"I do."

"Good," Tamaki smiled, he had such a lovely smile, "they remind me of you, in a way?"

Huh, that didn't make any sense, "how?"

Tamaki sighed lightly, glancing at Kyoya before returning his gaze to the stars, Kyoya did the same, "well they're not exactly golden, and a lot of people would prefer gold- those people are shallow. Silver is just as good as gold and is honestly a lot more versatile. Stars are underrated too, but in a different way; they can only be seen as little specks, pretty little fairy lights of the sky, but if you were to look closer you'd see how bright and unique and powerful they are. Stars aren't actually shaped like that either, those shapes are man made and man formed, I don't understand why they came up with that shape and I don't pretend to understand it, but I still think it's wonderful in every way." Tamaki was staring at him again, Kyoya noticed, there was something in the boy's eyes that resembled stars themselves- or at least what stars were seen to be. "I just think they're really cool, and they fit your room."

Kyoya had listened to the entire thing, taken aback by this, it sounded almost like something he would say to charm a guest, but this was different, something about this felt separate, more intimate- and Kyoya couldn't help but blush. He let out a breath, not sure what to say, or if he should even speak.

"What are you two talking about back there?" A voice, Kaoru's voice, called back from the sofa. Both boys sat up, Kyoya taking a few breaths to compose himself as Tamaki rolled his eyes.

"We were talking about how nice the bed is, why?"

The twins shared a knowing look, smiling mischievously, Kyoya knew they thought they knew something. He hoped they were right. As the others were distracted by Haruhi telling them stories about commoner things, Kyoya felt himself sink into the circle, the sense of safety and comradery comforting him. The crisis could be ignored for now, as long as he had his friends.

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #tamaki souh #tamakyo #haruhi fujioka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #mitsukuni haninozuka #takashi morinozuka #yuuichi ootori

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midnxghtsunwrites · 4 years ago

Text

SMOKESTACKS | 4, PAT-A-CAKE

previous chapter

SKIP TO OCTOBER

"WAKE UP, ASSHOLE!"

Jax is jolted awake by his mother's loud voice and heavy hand. She'd slapped his jeans-covered calf with her freshly done nails and dropped her handbag beside him. The run that the Sons did last night did nothing but feed into Jax's exhaustion. As President, he was meant to be on guard at all times but nobody ever really sees Gemma Teller-Morrow coming.

The man rubs a hand over his face, his ring cool against his skin. He rises from his position on the bed and glares at his mother, "What the hell is your problem?" His voice was gruff with exhaustion. He left when the sun was still high in the sky and returned when the sun was beginning to rise.

Gemma looks taken aback, "Where are your manners, you jerk?"

Jax resists the urge to roll his eyes but he just wants to go back to sleep, "Sorry," He corrects himself, popping his neck, "Rough night."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Gemma hums as she chews on her gum, "I got some stuff to handle at the shop. You gotta pick up Thomas from daycare and Abel from kindergarten."

Jax glances at the clock on his side table, ready to argue that it's too early for that, only to see that it's past four. "Shit," He mumbles before jumping to his feet. Passing the kutte on the dining room chair, he grabs the keys to his truck and turns to his mother who was following behind him.

Taking in the mischievous smirk on her face, the man furrows his eyebrows, "What's up with you?" He pulls on his hoodie despite living in California just days before Halloween.

Gemma tilts her head at her son's gaze. For the past three months, she'd gotten closer to Abel's teacher, often engaging in conversations about the little boy that would veer off into more personal topics. And by personal, she means sharing cobbler recipes and cooing over videos and pictures of Abel and Thomas when they were younger.

After Tara gave birth to Jax's second son, Thomas, she tried to rat and take the boys away from the MC President only for him to run her out of town without them. Of course, she didn't go easy so Jax was left to threaten her — either go voluntarily or in a body bag. He kept his boys and with the help of his mom, they'd been raising them for the past year.

Now, Jax deserves some love coming from someone that doesn't have a problem with his status. And that might come in the form of a kindergarten teacher. The only reason it took so long for her to start meddling was because she had to make sure that Nadine is a good person with no ulterior motives for being in Charming. Gemma doesn't know if she'll be okay with Jax's presidential status or what, but it's worth a try.

Gemma doesn't have to do shit at the shop. This ruse is to get Jax to finally meet the woman. It'll be a surprise for them both considering Gemma said nothing to the teacher about Jax picking Abel up.

"Nothing, baby, I just think Abel will be very excited to see his daddy." She plays it off, before cradling her son's face and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Later."

"Later, ma."

NADINE STOOPS AT THE DOOR OF the classroom, playing Pat-A-Cake with Abel. It was an hour past the time everyone was picked up. Well, everyone but Abel Teller here. Nadine had no qualms about staying after school to wait with him until Gemma picks him up, but she finds it unusual that she's so late.

Gemma is usually the first one in the door.

"No, you're supposed to —" Nadine says with a giggle as she tries to show Abel how to play the hand game that goes with the nursery rhyme, "There you go, you got it!"

The game goes on for a little while longer before the door to the kindergarten building is pushed open and a blond man dressed in a black hoodie and baggy jeans steps over the threshold. In his arms is a boy younger than Abel by about two years — they look very much alike. The man's hair is slicked back and a smile is wide on his face when his blue eyes set on Abel's.

For a second, all Nadine can think about is how crazy this man must be to be wearing a thick, black hoodie in the heat of California. Maybe he's used to it.

"Hey, little man," The man greets the boy. Looking at him, Nadine can see the resemblance — must be his dad. Abel rushes over to his dad and brother and jumps into his arms. With sheer strength, the man lifts both of his boys into his arms and kisses Abel's forehead.

"Daddy!" Abel squeals, excitedly. Nadine watches silently from her corner of the room. She stands and grabs Abel's backpack, waiting for the right moment to step over and hand it to them.

"Hey, I'm sorry for being late." The man apologizes to his son as he puts him back down so his feet hit the floor, "You had fun at school today?"

Abel nods eagerly as he looks back at his teacher who sends him a small smile, "Yeah, Ms. Parker taught me Pat-A-Cake!"

The man follows his son's gaze and looks to the woman standing by her classroom door. Taking this as her cue, the woman steps towards the man and his children, a meek smile on her face.

The closer she gets, the more attractive this man is. Damn. His face is rugged, a bright white smile on display and beautiful blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. While his hair is slicked back, it still looks soft and tempting to run her hand through. "Nadine Parker." Instead of sticking out her hand for him to shake, she extends the arm with Abel's backpack.

The man moves in a suave motion, taking his son's bag into his grasp. He takes a hold of Abel's hand in the same grip and tilts his head at the woman.

"Jax Teller," He greets her.

Nadine smiles in greeting before turning to the young boy in his arms, "And you must be Thomas."

Jax glances down at his son and motions towards the teacher, "Say hi, little man." Thomas waves quietly. The two stir in silence for a millisecond before Jax continues, "Sorry for being so late and thanks for watching Abel."

Nadine shrugs, "Don't worry about it, stuff happens. I understand if you were late."

Jax nods and smiles a bit at her understanding nature. Looking around, he scans the empty area seeing that she was the only one there, "You good here alone?"

"Yeah, I have Ted the Janitor to keep me company," Jax's heart skips a beat at the sound of her soft laugh. Nadine was too caught up in her joke that she doesn't even see when his jaw clenched in interest, "Sorry, that was a bad joke."

Jax chuckles, "You're hilarious, Nadine. Don't worry."

The woman in question fights the heat that creeps up her neck and settles on her cheeks. Luckily, she's dark enough for it to not be visible.

The two sink into another bout of awkward silence. Jax's charming nature is suppressed in the presence of this soft-spoken woman, which surprises him in ways he didn't even know was possible. He scans her face before he feels a tug on his hand.

"Daddy," Abel speaks up, looking up at his father, "Can we go get ice cream now?"

Jax tears his gaze from the teacher and looks down at his son, "You up for ice cream right now?" His question was in the form that all babies receive questions — hypothetical.

"Yes, daddy," Abel nods eagerly.

Jax looks back to the teacher with a smirk on his face, "The boss has spoken."

"It seems he has," Nadine nods along, a smile growing on her face, "You guys have a good night."

"You too, Ms. Parker," Abel lets go of his dad's hand and hugs Nadine. She almost audibly awes before realizing how weird that would be. She doesn't even notice Jax staring at the two with a look of interest clear on his face.

It's only when Jax tells her goodnight and walks out the door towards his car that he realizes why his mother sent him here today.

He's not surprised — she's always sticking her nose somewhere.

TAGLIST

@gwenspacy @complacentviawattpad @dollyhoess @rosenoirwrites

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine

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okaywitheverything · 4 years ago

Text

Konoha X Reader ♡1

A/N: So I’ve been really inactive I know but its because I have a lot of tests coming up. Here is fun series I wrote long ago which is sort of everybody flirting with you in Konoha. Hope you like it. Here’s part one of three.

"Yeah, it would be a nice change of space. I've been cooped in one place for far too long I feel. I've always had a nick for travelling and exploring." You answered with an adorable smile on your face.

"Is that the only reason? Pardon me for questioning you but I need to be completely sure about approving your request to move here to Konoha. I can't take any duty of mine lightly."

"Nothing less would be expected of you Hokage-sama. You truly are as intellectual, perceptive and ingenious as people say."

The Third Hokage laughed lightly at this. "As flattered as I am dear, I am not cutting you any slack." He replied smugly.

"I'm an okay Jounin-level kunoichi that feels the urge to start anew. Oh come on, I'm not an assassin in disguise! I could have fooled you if I actually wanted to." You replied as serious you could, slightly staring at him to try and intimidate him.

Don't think it's working at all.

"I'm actually in a disguise right now."

That's seemed to have caught him off guard. You smirked a little. "You haven't even checked my ID yet. The photo it has right now, doesn't match my current self. Wait! Don’t peek! Let's make this interesting. You'll see my abilities as a ninja as well. What do you say?"

Tempting the Hokage was probably not a good idea, but you have never been one to shy away from risks.

"Oh I'm not doubting your ability of deception. Say what, that door leads to a bathroom. If you manage to amaze me with a different disguise that matches whatever is in your ID, I'll let you move here, no more questions asked." He said, propping on his elbows, leaning forward. This old man was surely fun, you had to give him that.

"Alright, give me five minutes."

You looked at your appearance right now. Really big dorky glasses that hid your beautiful features under its frame. A really tight braid with middle parting of your hair. You looked oh-so-nerdy right now. But only you knew that on the removal of these two things, your entire appearance did a one eighty degree. And that's what you intended to do as of right now.

You looked at yourself with awe in the mirror. You never bragged about your appearance or thought of yourself as superior to basically anyone.

But you weren't one to willingly drag yourself down, you remained confident with whatever you wore, whatever you had. Sure everyone had bad days, but to make a routine out of it? That was not you. Right now, your beautiful (h/c) tresses cascaded down your body to (whatever your hair length is).

Your cherry pink lips glossed more as you reapplied the lip balm. Your (favourite colour) blouse was the one thing that remained the same. You swapped your baggy pants with a similar (favourite colour) skirt that reached your mid thigh that matched your painted nails. You had removed your glasses already and replaced it with contacts. (Or just removed if you don't need contacts)You were thankful for all the accessories you kept in your (favourite colour) purse in case you needed to party anytime.

But you really outdid yourself by taking out matching heels from the bag and replacing your flats.

Guess the female purse is really a mystery.

You readied yourself and stepped out.

Go big or go home, right?

The Hokage looked up from some documents he was checking and Kami, you could have sworn you saw blood trickling down his nose. You instantly grew worried, was he having a seizure?

You then saw him frantically grabbing your folder and snatching out your ID. His widened eyes darted back and forth from the photo on the ID to your confused face.

"Are you going to say something?" You said after few minutes of silence.

"I think I need to check the bathroom to see if you swapped places with someone. As shocked as I am to admit this, I was totally not expecting that. Keeping my end of the deal, as you have truly amazed me, I can only hope this will help our undercover missions. Anyways, welcome to Konoha!" The Third replied with a grin, a narrow strip of blood still gushing down.

You responded with another charming smile of yours. However, before you could say something, the door abruptly opened revealing a large man with really long white hair and a lady close behind who had beautiful golden locks."Hokage-sama, did you hear about Oro- Oh! Hello there. I don't believe we have met. I'm Jiraiya, a renowned writer and appreciator of beauty and grace. And you seem just the kind of elegant lady that I was looking for."

The man started but changed his composure entirely when his eyes met yours mid sentence. You tilted your head in slight confusion and saw the lady behind him come ahead while smacking the back of his head. However, as soon as she saw you, a slight pink tinted her cheeks.

Maybe at the embarrassment of realising someone else's presence?You wondered.

"Hello I'm Tsunade. I haven't seen you around, you seem new." With pink cheeks, she put her hand forward which you gladly accepted giving her a small smile.

"Yes, I arrived here today. I'm (Your first name) (Your last name)." You replied.

You didn't realise at what point exactly did the white haired man had moved to the corner of the room during your conversation. You saw him squatted down, vigorously writing down something and mumbling incoherent words along the lines of 'new characters initials will be (your initials)'.

What surprised you was the river of blood gushing down his nose, blood almost thrice the amount you witnessed on Hokage's face earlier.

He seriously looked like he was about to pass out.

Is the weather here really this hot and cruel? Good thing I'm wearing a mini skirt right now.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard knuckles cracking quite loudly and saw Tsunade glaring at Jiraiya that he totally ignored as his eyes only travelled between your face and his book.

The Hokage, about whom you had completely forgotten until now stood beside Jiraiya, leaning to read what he wrote, giggling like a lovestruck teen.

"Is this how you are supposed to behave?!" Tsunade pulled Jiraiya up by his ear, and to be honest she even scared you. "And you sensei, supporting him like that?!" She continued and you praised her confidence and unwavering voice.

If you hadn't witnessed the scene, you would never believe she was talking to The Lord Third.

The Third sheepishly scratched his neck, embarrassment coating his cheeks. You felt you should excuse yourself before the situation escalated to another level. "If my request is approved, I'd like to look around the Village." You said moving towards the door. "Let me assist you with that. I know all the exclusive spots in the vill- Oww ow what?!" You heard Jiraiya exclaim from the corner.

"Have you forgotten about the important matters we came to discuss here? It's not like I'd rather stay here than show her pretty ass around but we have some duties." Tsunade said making you blush.

'Pretty ass' caught you off guard. Both the curse and the compliment.

You grabbed your folders and put them inside your purse and headed out, not before flashing a bright cheeky smile to all the three people in the room as you heard Tsunade say, "We hope to see you around soon."

The two guards outside almost didn't recognise you as the same girl who entered the office. They exchanged quizzical glances while all you could wonder was how could they let Jiraiya and Tsunade intrude like that. Maybe because it was an emergency. You gave them both genuine smiles and shrugged to yourself while moving to find the exit.

This wasn't how you planned on exiting and roaming, in such a short skirt but you had no choice because of the intrusion in the office. You didn't mind though, Konoha seems to intrigue you in a good way and you found yourself excited to explore, looking like a total bomb in that sleek, sexy (favourite colour) outfit of yours.

A/N: this was just some meaningless drabble of sorts. Hope you enjoyed.

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shakespeareanwannabe · 4 years ago

Text

Drowning

Santiago Pope Garcia x F!OC/Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Rebecca Cooke

Summary: Santiago follows through with his escape plan, only to find that his freedom comes with a heavy price.

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Benny being Benny, references to war time injuries, references to Anxiety if you squint, ghosting, nightmares, crying

A/N: Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been a while. Some stuff came up, but I was inspired to write this chapter anyway! Here’s chapter 6. Please enjoy!

**********

Santiago Garcia was one of the best of the best. One of the top ranked soldiers in the US Military. Delta Force, Special Operations…his team was the one you called when things got bad. And things often got bad.

Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis oversaw the team. Laser focused in the field and a brilliant tactician who always seemed to be able to get his team out of tight spots, Redfly saw Delta Force through multiple missions, as well as two tours of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was his right-hand man, his second in command. Where Redfly focused on the minor details, Pope was able to see the big picture. Combined, their abilities to plan and execute earned them the respect and admiration of their team.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller was third in command. His cool head and philosophical manner ensured cohesion in the group of macho men. While the team was busy fighting the enemy, Will was busy making sure there was no fighting amongst the team.

Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales was the pilot. The most intelligent of the bunch, he was often overlooked when it came to lauding praises, even if Pope would always claim that it was because of Frankie’s skillful maneuvering and calculating nature that they made it back in one piece.

Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller was the youngest of the team, the most hotheaded, and the most emotionally vulnerable. Added to the team after their original fifth member was killed in action, Ironhead automatically took it upon himself to protect his baby brother, while the rest of the team protected Ironhead.

Together, they were the most successful, most ruthless, most cunning team to ever wear the United States flag on their shoulder. Ironhead, Catfish, and Benny trusted their fearless leaders to see them through any mission, no matter how bleak. Where they led, the team followed, no questions asked. Well, on the battlefield, that is…

“You fucking what!?!” Frankie exclaimed angrily while Benny and Will stared at him in astonishment.

Santi felt himself shrink. While he knew that his plan of action wasn’t the best, he didn’t know what else to do.

“I can’t drag her into all my bullshit, ‘Fish,” Santi sighed, dragging a hand down his face before chugging from his nearly-empty beer bottle.

“So, you thought that ghosting her was the best thing to do?” Benny exclaimed, leaning around his brother to get a good view of his former lieutenant. “Are you fucking stupid, Pope?”

“Ay, watch it, kid!” Santi grumbled. “You’ve seen her! She’s fucking perfect. I’m not ruining her. No way, man.” Santi chose to ignore Frankie’s mumbling in their shared mother tongue and cast his fishing line out into the lake once more.

It had been two weeks since the wedding, 13 days since the last time he saw Rebecca, and it was killing him, even if he knew it was for the best. So, when Will had offered up his fishing cabin in the woods for a boys weekend, he had jumped at the chance to get out of that big empty house, away from the clinic that he was slinking around under Charlie’s hateful glare, and far enough away from Bex’s building that he wasn’t tempted to just get up and drive there and beg for her forgiveness. It would be good for him. Clear his head. Get her out of his system, even if he was waking up every morning hard as a rock with thoughts of her smile and her softness and her heart at the forefront of his mind.

“Well, that fucking explains why Charlie went from crying over your speech at the wedding to asking me if I’d be okay burying your body in the backyard,” Frankie finally spoke in English.

Santi winced. After a week of actively ignoring his phone whenever it lit up with Rebecca’s name and smiling face, he supposed that Bex had asked Charlie what was up. And, since Charlie knew him well enough to know what nothing was actively wrong, he’d spent the last several of his physio appointments having to shield himself from his friend’s icy glare.

“What are you doing, man?” Will sat back with a sigh. “She’s the best you’re ever gonna get. You know that right?”

Santi clenched his fist around his fishing rod. “You think I don’t know that? She’s fucking perfect! Sweet and kind and unselfish and loving and sexy as all fuck! Who wouldn’t want that?”

“So, you’re either really fucking stupid or really fucking scared…” Benny muttered, leaning back to fetch another beer.

Santi felt something inside him burst. He was doing what was best for her, even if nobody in his life seemed to agree.

“Fuck this.” He threw his fishing rod to the ground and stood up. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. I’m going home.”

Frankie slowly stood up next to him with a few crackles and pops of his joints. “I drove you, dipshit. And you drank an entire six pack on your own. I’ll take you home.”

Frankie ambled over to give his goodbyes to Will and Benny while Santi stood with his arms crossed, staring out into the distance. He had thought Frankie and Will would understand. Frankie, who had to fight tooth and nail to keep the woman he loved after getting his license suspended. And Will, whose fiancée had left him six weeks before the wedding day, claiming the war had changed him and that he wasn’t the same man she fell in love with. Benny, who had loved more people than he could count, had never experienced that kind of love and loss before, and Santi hoped he never did. Everyone around them got sucked into their bullshit, and he wouldn’t let that happen to the most wonderful woman he had ever met.

“Hey,” Santi startled when a warm, gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to meet Will’s warm gaze and placating smile. “We just want you to be happy, man.”

Santi sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah, Will…I know, but—”

“But nothing, man,” Will interrupted gently, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “She makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you, Santi. Don’t lose that, or you’ll spend your life regretting it.”

Santi watched him walk away as Frankie came up beside him and started ushering him towards the truck.

**********

The two-hour drive home was longer than expected due to traffic on the highway, but the length was exasperated by the silence that was dragging out between the two men. Unlike the drive, the silence was atypical. Santi, who had grown accustomed to Frankie’s quiet calmness, usually filled the silence with stories to get Frankie talking or laughing. Now, the tension between the two was palpable, and Santi wasn’t about to try to break it when he had so much on his mind.

After almost three hours in the car together, Frankie pulled into Santi’s driveway and killed the engine.

Santi sighed, both in sadness and relief, and went to open the door. “Thanks,” he mumbled, hand resting on the handle and the door partially open.

“Listen, man…” Santi turned slightly to see Frankie had removed his cap and was rubbing at his forehead. “If she doesn’t make you happy, that’s fine. No point in making yourself miserable trying to drag out a relationship that just ain’t gonna work. But if that’s why you’re doing this, or if you’re doing it because of some bullshit protector instinct, then why are you so miserable? If she makes you happy but you’re worried about infecting her with your shit, then protect her from that by staying close and working hard.”

“I…” Santi swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her, man.” He got out of the truck and stood next to the open door. “I won’t hurt her.”

Frankie fixed him with a glare, and Santi saw a flash of the old Frankie for a moment. “And what exactly are you doing right now, cabrón?”

Santi let the door swing closed as Frankie peeled out of his driveway and down the road.

**********

It took another week for Santiago to get his act together. The day Frankie dropped him off, he spent in his backyard, grilling and listening to music. If things were normal, it would be the day the whole gang got together at Frankie’s for food and fun and laughs, but things weren’t normal, so he settled in for some solo grilled chicken and some alone time. He woke up with nightmares around midnight, and when he woke up again around 2 a.m., he moved into the living room and resigned himself to crappy early morning TV until the sun came up.

The next day, on a whim, he started drafting a proposal for a private security company. He still had enough money from selling his weapons collection in Colombia to put together a decent business proposal, and it was better than sitting on his ass drinking all day, so he put his famed planning skills to work. Got Your Six Security would provide state of the art security systems as well as armed guards for those who desired them. The fees would be reasonable, they would cater to both private homes and public settings, and, best of all, they would only employ military or former military personnel. Luckily, Santi had kept in contact with a couple of the surveillance techs from his time overseas, and he knew that a small crew of them had been working on a state-of-the-art closed circuit security system and were looking to market it to high end customers. They had already agreed to work with him, he only needed to get a business plan and a small loan to get it up and running.

The day after that, he had a meeting with the bank, who had met his proposal with enthusiasm. (It helped that it was a company employing veterans, run by a veteran, who already had some capital to put up upfront.) All they asked was that he find his first customer before they signed off on the loan.

So, the following Monday, he straightened his suit and tie and headed into the last place he wanted to be: the art museum where Rebecca worked. It was the only business that had availability as soon as possible, they were willing to pay top dollar, and they seemed fairly desperate.

He met with two of the higher ups of the museum, Douchebag Derek’s mom and the owner of the building, and soon found out why they were so desperate.

“One of our paintings got stolen two nights ago,” Derek’s mom sighed. “We don’t know how, or why, but somebody got in, stole one of the Blair’s, and walked out with it. Our security guard claims that he didn’t hear anything, but the police are looking into it.”

“The point is,” Mr. Carlisle butted in. “We need something more high-tech than a retiree aged security guard. We need something that can send an alarm to the police if someone does get in, but also a few highly trained guards to watch the museum at night, in case someone does get in and the police are too slow. It seems to me that a military grade security system and some highly trained former soldiers are the perfect thing to protect the priceless works of art we house here at this institution.”

“Was anyone in the building when the painting was stolen?” The words escaped his mouth before he could even think. “I mean, besides the security guard.”

“No, thank god,” Mr. Carlisle replied. “Jerry, the security guard, says he saw out the last employee in the building before locking the door.”

“I’m just happy that nobody got hurt,” Derek’s mom simpered, and Santi caught a glimpse of her son’s douchebaggery in her voice.

“We’d be happy to help,” Santi smiled once he regained control of his voice, his shoulders relaxing at the news that Jerry had been alone in the building. “We’ll just need 50% of the cost of the alarm system up front before installation, then we can discuss how many guards you want on premises during the day and at night. Once we’ve got a number, we can go through the applicants together and we can find the ones who best suit your needs.”

It was after they dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s and Santi had received a firm handshake from Mr. Carlisle that it happened.

He was exiting Mr. Carlisle’s office, still facing the occupants of the room as he thanked them for their patronage, when he turned and bumped into something hard but soft and comforting and, even worse, familiar.

“Oof!”

A chill ran down his spine at the sound, the same sound she had made when he spanked her ass that morning.

“Shit, I’m…I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” Rebecca stilled in her crouched position, one hand on one of the loose sheets of paper he had knocked out of her arms. “Uh…here, let me help.”

He started to lower to the ground, wincing at his knees crackling, when she snatched up the paper he was reaching for and stood up. “Don’t bother.”

Already crouching, he let his head hang. He didn’t know how he expected their first encounter to go, but it certainly wasn’t that.

**********

A flash…a painful scream…his legs caught in quicksand…red pooling on the pristine white marble floors…the dull thud of her body dropping…the faceless thief escaping into the edges of his vision…cradling her lifeless body…

Santiago sat bolt up in bed, his heart racing and his chest heaving, his curls drooping onto his forehead with accumulated sweat.

Three nights of the same dream. Three nights of not being able to save her from the art thief. Three nights of sitting in bed, trembling while staring at her picture on his phone, his thumb hovering over the ‘Call’ button but always unable to take that final step.

First, she had bewitched him. Now, she was haunting him. One short, angry interaction was enough to bring her to the forefront of his mind (not that she was ever far from there), and now he couldn’t sleep.

Maybe Frankie was right. Doing the right thing shouldn’t make him this miserable. His heart shouldn’t ache when he thinks of her, he shouldn’t be so depressed when he sees couples together, and he really shouldn’t be dreaming about her death and waking up in tears.

He didn’t think. About any of it. Instead, he acted on instinct, throwing on a pair of threadbare sweatpants and a white vest and collecting his wallet and keys before hopping into his truck and driving the path he knew by heart.

**********

Bang Bang Bang!

Rebecca’s first instinct was to shout at whoever was knocking on her door at three a.m. to fuck off or she would call the cops. Her second instinct was to grab the baseball bat in her front closet and scare the intruder off herself.

She blamed the pint of Cherry Garcia (flavor chosen ironically, of course) and the three glasses of red wine she had drank before falling asleep on the couch for her poor decision-making skills as she stumbled off the couch and grabbed the bat.

“What the fu—”

“Holy shi—”

Santiago ducked away from the door, hands out in front of him as if to calm a wild animal.

“Bex! It’s me, Jesus Christ!”

She huffed. “Yeah, and? After the shit you’ve pulled, being met with a bat is the least of your concerns.” She rubbed her eyes. “What the hell do you want, Santiago?”

He winced at the full name. “C…Can we talk?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, bat hanging loosely between her fingers. “You’ve had three weeks to talk to me, asshole. What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me?”

Santi turned to look down the hall, wincing and apologizing as one of her neighbours shot him a dirty look. “Can we talk inside? Please? If you don’t like what I have to say, you can kick me out or call the cops. I really wouldn’t blame you. Just…please?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, poking her head out. “Sorry, Mr. Chen. Tell Cindy that it’s the asshole boyfriend come to grovel.”

The man nodded knowingly and retreated into his apartment.

“I deserve that,” he mumbled, looking at her pleadingly.

Rebecca considered him for a moment. “You look like shit.”

“And I feel even worse. Baby, I…”

Rebecca cut him off. “If you seriously want to do this right now, I’m gonna need more wine.”

She turned her back on him and retreated into the apartment, leaving the door wide open. Santiago followed her after a beat, making sure the door was locked tight behind him.

“Baby, I—”

Bex held up a finger, pouring herself a large glass of red wine and sitting as far away from him as possible, draping a grey throw blanket over her lap before fixing him with a glare.

He met her eyes and felt himself deflate. “Fuck,” he groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. “I had it all planned out, every word I was going to say to you, and now I’m lookin’ at you and it’s all…” He made an exploding motion with his hands. “Poof. Gone.”

Rebecca burrowed further into her blanket. “Well, try. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one who needs to do the talking here. I’ve done my talking. On the half-dozen voicemails I left on your phone, in the dozens of texts I sent you, and in the email I wrote because I was panicking at the thought that you had gotten into some terrible accident and that was why you weren’t responding anymore. Because that is the only reason I could think of that you would suddenly stop talking to me.”

“I know. I know, you��re absolutely right. I fucked up in a major way, and I am so sorry. I know I messed up, but I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you.” Rebecca scoffed. “I’m serious, honey. In my own backwards as fuck way, I thought I was protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked angrily.

Santi felt something snap inside of him. “From me! From this forty-year-old fuck up sitting in front of you! Because I’m not a good man! Because I was shooting people and detonating bombs when you were still in grade school! Because I’ve killed people, good people…innocent people. Because my life is a mile-wide shit stain, and you don’t deserve to deal with that. Because…” Santi took a raggedy breath. “Because when I look at you, I see everything good about the world. And I know I’ve got blood and death on my hands, and I couldn’t live with myself if I let any of that effect you in any way.”

“Don’t you think that’s my choice?” she countered in a cold voice. “Don’t you think I should get to decide who deserves to be in my life? I might be a hell of a lot younger than you, Santiago, but my life hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns. I know my worth. I know who belongs in my life. Not my narcissistic mother, who used my accident for sympathy from whoever she could get it from. Not my best friend from high school, who managed to turn everything into a fucking competition and only got bitchy when she ‘lost’. Not Douchebag Derek or fucking College Boyfriend Ben. And like it or not, I chose you. You with the bad knees and the greying hair and the blood and shit on your hands. God help me, but I chose you.” She chugged the rest of her wine, placing the glass harshly down on the coffee table.

“I know, sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking amazing, you know that?” he blinked back tears in his eyes. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t get emotional, that he would lay the facts out for her, but just being in her presence screamed safety to him and he could feel everything he had pushed down rising to the surface. “Y…you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, okay? And I know that’s a shitty, corny line, but it’s the truth. When I met you…I was in a bad place. My life had been one shit storm after another, and I thought coming home would fix that. Being around Frankie and Charlie, getting to bond with Mateo, having a home of my own for the first time…I was doing better. And then you crashed into my life, and all of a sudden everything felt good again. Like…the sun was shining on me but all of a sudden I could actually feel it and, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of getting burned. You turned my whole plan upside down, and I was actually okay with it.” He chuckled, swiping at his cheeks as the first few tears started to fall. “I thought I could live in your orbit and just circle around you, not hurting you or effecting you in any way. But then…” he smiled softly. “Christ, that morning…Fuck, I realized that I was in so deep. Way deeper than I ever thought I would get. I was honestly, genuinely happy for the first time in years, and it was all because of you. And you were smiling at me all soft, and I realized something. I realized that living with you, spending the rest of my life with you, was something I could easily do and desperately wanted. And that scared the shit out of me. Because guys like me don’t get the happy ending. The credits start to roll just as we start dealing with the aftermath of whatever shitshow we just lived through, so that the audience doesn’t have to watch everything fall apart again. I…I couldn’t put you through that. Not when you’ve already got all your own stuff to deal with. Adding my own just felt selfish. And I know that’s a cop out, but it’s the truth. I honest to god just wanted to protect you.”

Rebecca’s gaze softened as her voice enveloped him. “So, why now? Why come to me now, if you’re so set on protecting me?”

He met her gaze. “The break in. At the museum. I-if you had been there, if you had gotten hurt…I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle it. That, plus some of Frankie’s patented wise wisdom, woke me up to what an idiot I’ve been. If I want to protect you, I’ve got to do it by being with you, and god baby, that’s all I want. And I know I fucked up. I basically did the same jackass thing that your college boyfriend did, only ten times worse because I promised I wouldn’t. I know I don’t deserve you, but I swear to god, baby, if you let me back into your life, I will work with you. I won’t keep anything from you, and I’ll always be honest with you, and when I try to protect you, I’ll do it by standing by your side and letting you know that I’m here. Even…” he gulped painfully. “Even if it’s just as a friend.”

Rebecca considered him carefully as Santi waited on bated breath. Finally, she spoke. “You really hurt me, Santi.”

He nodded, clenching his eyes shut. “I know. I know, baby, and I am so, so sorry.”

“Everything I was scared of, happened. I let you in, and you made me fall in love with you, then you left. You fucked me then fucked off. And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me why. I agonized for weeks over what I could have possibly done wrong.”

“No, baby,” he took a chance and shifted to sit next to her, gently cradling her hand in his. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on me, okay?”

She played with his fingers, rough and callused from his time handling firearms. “It is,” she nodded. “It is all on you…but when I ran into you at the museum, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks. I wanted to be angry at you, but I just felt sad because…because I wanted you to do some stupid, corny, romcom level bullshit like fall to your knees and beg for my forgiveness or sweep me up into your arms and say that you would never let me go again.”

Santiago cupped her cheek, carefully brushing away the stray tear meandering over her cheekbone. “What are you saying?” he asked, trying desperately to keep the hope from his voice.

She sighed. “It means…that I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” She stood, not releasing his hand. “C’mon. You can sleep here tonight, and we can figure this out in the morning.”

He stood hesitantly. “Are you sure? I can sleep here on the couch?” He eyed the leather distastefully. “Or I can go sleep in my truck. I…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She was already shaking her head. “No, then I’ll just feel guilty. That couch is not comfortable and your truck with play hell with your neck. You can stay in my bed. Just…don’t worry about it.”

She padded silently into her room, tugging him behind her. Swiftly, she tugged down the meticulously straightened sheets and slid into her side of the bed, Santiago following after a short pause.

He laid there for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling, thanking god that he was there with the woman he loved and praying for a chance to make things right.

For the first time in forever, his prayers seemed to be answered quickly.

“I can hear you thinking,” Rebecca mumbled as she rolled over and placed her head on his chest. “Stop thinking, Santi. We can figure out everything in the morning.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair, eyes drifting closed to send him into the deepest sleep he’d had in a month.

**********

He awoke the same way he’d fallen asleep, wrapped around Rebecca like he was afraid that, should he let go even an inch, she’d disappear.

He pulled back a fraction of an inch to gaze at her peaceful face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She released a soft, sleepy mewl before her eyes blinked open.

She smiled softly at him. “Hey…”

The words poured out of him before he could even think. “Move in with me.”

She crinkled her brow. “What?”

He caught her hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing her palm. “I love you. And I want to prove to you that I’m in this for the long haul. You’re it for me, Rebecca. So, move in with me.”

Her sleepy eyes took him in for a moment, and Santi’s breath caught in his chest. But before he could backtrack or explain further, he felt his heart stop.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

**********

Tags list (open): @darksideofclarke, @writefightandflightclub, @rae-rae-patcha, @himbopoes, @sophoclese, @phoenixhalliwell, @buckstaposition, @who-talks-first, @hkmultifandom, @youhavereachedtheendofpie

#santiago pope garcia x oc #santiago pope garcia x rebecca cooke #triple frontier fanfic #not another fairytale ending fic #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #Oscar Issac #Pedro Pascal

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avversiera-writes · 4 years ago

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‘till death do us part - chapter 4 [tobirama senju/you]

Chapter 4 - Look to the Horizon

Summary: It starts with a bad dream. And then everything going wrong.

Words: 4.1k

A/N: Idk about you guys, but the way I wrote this chapter makes me laugh. Also, ptsd nightmare at the beginning.

this work is also on AO3.

<< Chapter 1 - Allegiances // Chapter 2 - Union // Chapter 3 - Love Like you

“It has been a while since we’ve seriously sparred,” you comment as you sidestep out of the way of Tobirama’s bokken.

Swiftly, you turn, and you meet his wooden sword, making a cross between the two of you. In the gaps, your eyes meet each other. You give his sword a nudge, and Tobirama gives in a little, and the space between the two of you rapidly decreases.

Tobirama smirks, looking very pleased as you two dance around each other, the golden light rays of the sunset smiling upon the two of you with warmth. The light hits his face just right, and you can see his red eyes clearly, seeing flecks of black and white in his irises. Tobirama watches you with eyes wide in wonder, and he lets you counter by effectively dismantling his sword from his hand with a twist of your blade.

The bokken clatters to the ground, and Tobirama bends down to pick it up.

“No fair,” you tell him. “That was too easy.”

Tobirama hides a smile and he shakes his head. “What if it was a trick?”

“Huh?”

Tobirama wastes no time as he strikes from above and you counter at the last minute. Your arms shake from the sheer force, but you are trained in speed and precision, not brute strength and so you kick back at his knees to get him off.

Tobirama draws back, and in the last second, he slaps his hiraishin seal on to your blade. You widen your eyes, and Tobirama is suddenly right in front of you, zeroing in for the kill.

Tobirama cannot stop, it is like his body is being controlled by a divine force. No matter how much he screams in his mind, he is going, and going even faster. The look in your eyes does not even make him stop, and somehow, the wooden sword has turned into a real one, and he hears the metal sing for blood.

“Tobirama!” You screamed, your face completely changing to horror.

Sickeningly, he feels the blade go through flesh, and his ears ring from your raw screams.

Tobirama wakes with a start, and cold sweat soaks his body and through his sleep yukata. His chest heaves with the effort to get air into his lungs, but he can hear himself breathe shallowly. His mind feels light, and his hands are cold and numb, and the feeling travels up his arms and then his chest, paralyzing him for a moment. Spots dance in his vision and he closes his eyes to will them away.

Finally, he is able to sit up and his body shakes as if his organs are jolting and crashing against each other like an earthquake intent on rupturing the ground, and blood pumps through his arteries like the rush of a flood, making his pale skin red. He lets out a shaky breath and he takes his trembling hands and presses his palms against his eyes.

What was that? He thinks.

He glances at your sleeping form, and another cold, numbing wave rushes through him, and this time, it feels like a thousand needles pricking every microscopic opening of his skin. It is on his eyes, his cheeks, his whole body, each pinprick so painful that he is tempted to tear his skin off until his nails crack and blood is finally released to offer him some relief.

All was well. He was with you, alone and as his wife. He was learning to get along with another person besides himself and his family. He was learning to express his love and discard his fears and his worries. He was learning to accept all the good things that were withheld from him as a child.

Why must all good things come with a price?

And to him, you are too good.

He knows that he is being irrational, that it is probably nothing, but his nightmare sits on his chest and the more it replays in his mind, the more it upsets him. He will never hurt you, so why is he doing that in his dreams?

His paranoia is getting to him. Maybe he is looking for a fight, or something his hands can busy themselves with.

Tobirama sighs heavily, and recalls that his dream is eerily similar to the way he had killed Uchiha Izuna.

He moves away from you, unable to bear the contact of another body against his own. He takes out his things, and he starts to rearrange everything until he deems it perfect. Then, he takes to his journals and his scrolls, catching up on his reading and writing his ideas down.

Occasionally, he glances at you, and he tries to swallow and kill the feeling of dread.

Your husband is too quiet for your liking. He is also avoiding you like a plague, and he does not look at you when speaking. You figure that he is having one of his moods, so you let him be, only addressing him when needed and asking simple yes or no questions. Currently, the two of you are heading to your next destination, which is a little farther from Konoha, but it is also known for its vast hunting grounds, mountain ranges and booming towns.

The two of you did not have a set itinerary for your travels, which was surprising–since Tobirama is a huge planner–but you both have the common goal to travel to other places in the country without the strings of a mission. Sometimes, you miss out on huge details when you are not there to take your time and enjoy the sights.

You glance at Tobirama, who is scowling at the air in front of him.

Ahead, you hear angry shouts and horses whining, followed by the whipping sounds of a lash.

Tobirama snaps alert, and his eyes narrow to focus. With a nod, the two of you take to the trees and land silently on the branches to view what is happening. You conceal yourselves behind the thick trunks of the trees and peer downwards to a rough passage cutting through two tall hills, one of which you and Tobirama are situated on.

You watch the procession of children, young adults, women and men that are able bodied toil through the rocky terrain, their wrists shackled by train of chains to ensure that no one breaks line. Some of them are missing shoes, or have discarded them along the way.

Supervising these were ruffians, carrying a variety of weapons, and they are shouting and whipping at those who are lagging behind.

You narrow your eyes, your intuition telling you that something is very wrong.

"What do you think?" You mouth towards Tobirama when your gazes meet simultaneously.

Your husband points down, and the two of you quietly descend to the ground.

"You've seen this before?" You query, watching his wary gaze.

"Slaves to be sold, probably," Tobirama replies grimly. "Most are kidnapped."

"We can't just turn a blind eye on this," you say as you take another look. “They are just children.”

Tobirama says nothing.

You narrow your eyes, and you see, at the end of the line, three familiar faces, who look too clean and too conspicuous. They do not look as dead tired as the others.

"Oh gods," you murmur under your breath.

"What is it?"

"What was your brother thinking?" You hiss.

Tobirama follows your line of sight and he frowns. “They are Chuunins now. They need the experience. Stop coddling them.”

“Tell me that again without being perturbed,” you snap in a low voice.

Tobirama looks pissed, but you know it is not directed towards you. His jaw tightens, as he watches one of the watchers whip a child. Then, he meets your gaze again.

“We have to do something with those face tattoos of yours,” you suggest. You ignore your feeling when he seems to flinch when you make a move to touch his face, and drop your hand.

The day fades into the night when the string of kidnapped people have arrived into their final destination. It is a booming town, with streets alive with the early hours of the night life–rowdy men who are already drunk from day drinking and women in full make-up outside of the love hotels they work for, eager to welcome in any customers. No one takes notice of the procession, which makes you think that this is the norm for this town, or that everyone is afraid to voice their objections because this group of people are a part of something bigger and more powerful than them.

You glance at Tobirama, who looks way younger with his face tattoos covered. Up ahead, the motley crew flood into what seems like an amphitheater, and the two of you blend in with the prisoners after they got released from their chains.

The women you are with are shaking with fear, and some are staring at the ground with a blank expression. You try to talk with them, but they refuse to do so, only glancing at the guards with fear.

You find Tobirama talking to a few kids, and it seems like he is reassuring them. Your heart softens at the sight, but your attention is taken away when the screaming starts. You try to find your students in the mayhem, but you still cannot find them.

It is not exactly dark, since there are pyres of fire lighting up the whole amphitheater, but the screaming is not of fear–it is of excitement and instigation.

First, you watch as stick thin women are lined up in the center of the audience. They are half-naked for men to ogle at, and then, somebody comes up to auction them off, calling for bets and announcing who is sold to whom.

Then, after the women are sold off, various weapons are pulled into the arena. They line the walls, ranging from spears, to swords, to knives and an assembly of mismatched armors that will never work unless one is trained to wear them in battle. One would be a fool to try them on now. You watch as the crowd roars, impatient for entertainment. Money is being collected by teenage boys from the aisles, while you and the people who were brought in are pushed nearer to the ring.

You have no doubt that you and your husband can fight and win, but that is not your objective. The two of you are supposed to collect intel and infiltrate and somehow rescue your students, but their faces are still nowhere to be found.

You meet Tobirama’s eyes and he gives you a small, imperceptible nod, meaning that your students are alive and nearby.

It isn’t hard to comprehend what is going on here. Either the daimyos of this part of the country are profiting from this, or this town is run by a strong gang who make their money by providing these kinds of services–pitting children against each other and selling slaves.

You suppose that this is what shinobis still do, but the difference is, it is legalized and approved by everybody.

Then, cheers erupt again, louder this time, as three figures are thrown into the ground.

“Everyone, we have some special guests!” An announcer shouts. “Three Konohagakure shinobis!”

Your heart drops to your stomach, but you keep to yourself, lest you give yourself or Tobirama away.

Damn it , you curse at the gods, anyone, really.

You regret not giving your students opportunities to infiltrate properly, or being distracted by your other duties as a shinobi and not spending enough time to drill them. You understand that being a shinobi means dying on the mission, but it is not like that anymore, but you are naive to think that just because the village you live in has acquired some peace, does not mean that the rest of the world is also at peace.

Outside of your life, children still die because there is no one to fight for them. They are rounded up like this, and they learn how to fight to live another day.

You observe, looking for some opening. You put your hopes in your students that they have enough wits to gather and keep themselves alive.

“They will fight against our champion,” the announcer continues.

A man wearing a demon mask appears, carrying a naginata with a blade that curves wickedly. You know that this blade is no ordinary blade by the way the air around it seems to hum. However, a man is only as good as the blade he wields. You hope that your students are better, and can make up for lack of strength with their brains. You know that they are more of a tactical team than an offensive one, but they do well when they work together.

“If they are Konohagakure, one should be enough to defeat him!” Someone aggressively shouts from the crowd.

A cold shiver runs through your spine and you hope that they do not pick Mieko. When she became part of your genin team, you refused profusely to the Hokage that she should not be a shinobi as she was not inclined to battle at all. Her instincts are all over the place, and her skills are quite clumsy. However, you know that her mind is sharp, and with training, she greatly improved.

Still. You are very hesitant.

Some people start to express their disapproval, and you see Tobirama signal you to be ready.

“The girl!”

The rest follow suit, their voices growing ever stronger. They are not individuals anymore. Shrouded with the loud volume and the anonymity the night offers, they become one body. They will prey at the small and weak. Like children.

There are no such thing as scary beasts. The real monsters are the people.

The crowd cheers as the Kai and Taiyo are dragged off, blindfolded and tied.

Well, it looks like the plan for flooding the arena is off the table.

Tobirama begins to move, and you make yours as well.

“The people have spoken!”

The match begins, and you spectate with the crowd. Tobirama disappears to follow the boys, and you focus your attention to Mieko.

The masked man swings at Mieko, and you feel a surge of pride as she ducks and goes forward to attack. The man is taller than Mieko, and with her size and speed, she can make up for it. She goes for the vital spots and slices at the back of the knees, and you begin to make your way closer, despite garnering looks. Tobirama is probably done already, and you need to make this quicker.

The two of you can report back to Hashirama and send another team to save the people here later on.

The crowd boos, and you see Mieko get hit with the blunt end of the naginata. Disoriented, she distances herself.

Despite the bleeding on the back of the man’s knees, he is still able to stand upright. He makes his way towards Mieko and draws the crowd with him.

You lunge out and grab at a sword nearby, and parry the oncoming strike away.

“Sensei?!” Mieko exclaims. “What are you doing here?!”

You grin, as the crowd boos again. “Long story, kid. Don’t worry, the boys are alright. But we need to go.”

You frown at the sword, hating how unbalanced it feels. It seems like anyone who gets pitted against this man is already at disadvantage.

The arena immediately floods with men, their swords out and glinting under the orange glow of the fire.

“Watch my back,” you tell your student, and give them a reassuring smile. “We have to fight our way out.”

“But sensei–”

“I trust you,” you cut her off, deciding to dispense your doubts against her from before. “I know you know what you are doing. You just lack experience, that’s all. Now, chin up.”

You charge at the masked man, keeping low and close so that his long weapon is at disadvantage. You aim upwards, and you manage to hack at the mask, splitting it in half. Then, you go after him as he backs away.

The rest of the theater is thrown into chaos, with the prisoners running around to get away. Since most of the men are on your back, there is no one guarding them.

The naginata swings and you back away, and it almost cuts away at your neck.

Mieko screams, and you turn and ward off the man who just managed to wound her arm.

“It’s okay,” you tell her, keeping your eye at the man.

There are three Tobiramas clearing an opening efficiently, and you push Mieko towards it.

“Just in time,” you murmur amusedly.

You cut and hack, not minding the warm spray of blood on your face.

The man follows, but there is too much going on.

“Almost there,” you urge.

Suddenly, Tobirama shouts your name at the same time the sharp piercing of a blade embeds itself into your side. It comes out to your front, and you feel yourself pale and grow light-headed. The naginata was pushed into you, and you stare at the tip of the blade, in disbelief that a part of it is now inside you.

Mieko drags you, and you attempt to take it out. You rather bleed than slow down the escape.

The situation has turned ridiculous, and maybe you are dying, because you find it hilarious that you are dragging a long weapon using the sheer will of your probably eviscerated organs.

The naginata lightens as you hear something break, and suddenly, the real Tobirama is placing your arm around his neck, and the three of you leave behind chaos. You are aware of the loud gushing of water behind you and men drowning, and Tobirama’s harsh breathing as he curtails you out and into safety.

“Stay with me,” Tobirama commanded, his voice hard and taut.

You feel hands all over you, trying to do damage control by controlling the bleeding and stabilizing the blade that is stabbed through you.

You feel the warm, blazing feeling of basic medical ninjutsu being used, and you keep still, focusing on being conscious.

You reach for Tobirama’s hand, which is sticky with your blood, and you give it a squeeze, proving to him that you will be alright.

“What in the gods’ names, are you three doing here?” Tobirama demands. “This is too far out from the village for newly Chuunins to venture to.”

Mieko replies calmly as her ninjutsu covers your wound. “Lord Hokage approved of this mission for us. He thinks it is suitable for us young Chuunins. It was just supposed to be recon.”

Tobirama’s jaw visibly hardens. “How long until the bleeding stops?”

“I am almost done,” Mieko says. “But the blade–”

“Take. It. Out,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Tobirama barks. “You will die.”

“I won’t,” you reason. “I’m...in good hands.”

Mieko swallows nervously. “Maybe if we do it slowly...but we have to be in a cleaner place.”

“Your lack of concern over your disposition is shocking,” Tobirama deadpans sarcastically.

“It is my lack of concern over my disposition that got us out,” you try to laugh, but the piercing pain travels upwards your torso.

“Be quiet,” Tobirama scolds. “Your life is not a joke.” He sighs. “And mind you, I got us all out.”

“Yes, yes,” you say, dismissal. “Genius inventor and savior of the universe, Senju Tobirama–”

“If this injury does not kill you, I will snuff you out in your sleep,” Tobirama threatens.

You roll your eyes, even though every movement hurts. However, bantering with your husband is a comfort and a welcoming distraction. “The bar is so low for good husbands.”

Tobirama rolls his eyes as well, and he crosses his arms together. You can tell that beneath his annoyance, he is frantic. “Stop being dramatic.”

“Take your own advice,” you bite back for the sake of having the last word.

Kai and Taiyo glance at each other uneasily. It is not strange for the two of you to argue relentlessly in front of people, but it does become quite a chore for everyone to hear.

“I stopped the bleeding,” Mieko sighs with relief.

You give her a smile. “You sound like you weren’t sure and I’d die bleeding out on some random forest floor.”

“If you can talk so incessantly, I think you’re better off putting that energy into walking,” Tobirama interrupts, his tone not exactly irritated. You can sense his concern under his sassy comments.

He helps you stand to your feet, and you wince.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you tell him slowly.

“Like I would let you,” Tobirama snaps, already putting your arm around his shoulder. He is fuming, and though that is probably enough to make others run, you find it adorable.

He glances at you with a scowl, realizing that you actually said adorable out loud.

Maybe you are slowly dying.

After the kids booked a room, you all set to the task of removing the blade.

You know you cannot scream out loud, so there is a towel in between your teeth to muffle your screams. Tobirama is scolding your ear off, and you suppose it has its perks. His voice distracts from the pain, and little by little, your student pulls off a field surgery that can put an experienced Chuunin to shame. It is not perfect, but it will do until you can get to the hospital.

Tobirama does the bandaging and he dismisses the kids to go fetch supplies. Weak and still in pain for the lack of anaesthetics, you feel heavy and groggy. It is like you are about to tear apart any second, but your senses are fried and you are unaware of the scope of damage.

“You shouldn’t try to move,” Tobirama says, his fingers quickly tying the bandage.

You stare at him, and give him a wan smile. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Tobirama deadpans. “Not watching your own back? Not being alert and anticipating any kinds of attacks?”

“Right, right,” you let out a small chuckle. “Lecture me some more. I could die from infection tomorrow.”

Tobirama stops and he turns rigid. He collects his hands resting on your stomach. “Do you have a death wish?”

You slowly reach for his hand, and coax it to hold yours. “You were worried for me.”

Tobirama scoffs. “As you said, the bar is so low for good husbands.”

“I love you,” you whisper.

Tobirama stares at you, caught off-guard. Then, he lets out a small breath that sounds like he is more amused than angry. “You say the worst things.”

You roll your eyes. “You said it first.”

“You should sleep,” Tobirama suggests, and he takes your hand to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Tomorrow, we’ll get you home.”

The suggestion of sleep weighs on your eyelids, but another thought enters your mind.

“What will you and your brother talk about?” You ask, your words disconnecting from your mind and the syllables rolling off lazily. “This whole situation is a misjudgement of his, not that I’m questioning his ability to rule...He is a good man.”

Tobirama smooths your forehead with his palm, and you close your eyes.

“We’ll see.”

Midnight comes, and Tobirama stares at the night sky in the engawa of the room they have settled in. His heart is heavy, and even more so with your unexpected injury. He cannot help but think that he may have a hand in this, but that is simply irrational. Dreams are just dreams, and they will stay dreams if they are not spoken of and put to action.

Dreams are not his forte, after all. It was his brother who had a vision, and he was the one who lay out the groundwork for it to happen.

If his dreams are to come true, then he is selfish and afraid, qualities that a shinobi should never have.

He squints at the night sky, and finds a hawk circling in.

The heavy feeling in his heart does not abate.

Tobirama holds out his hand, hoping that it is delivering good news, but that is unlikely. He knows Konoha can hold its own for a few days without him.

This must be something worse.

The hawk lands, and Tobirama uncovers the scroll attached to its leg. He sends the hawk away, and he rolls the tiny message out.

It spells a sentence that makes Tobirama flare in rage. He recognizes his sister-in-law’s elegant hand-writing.

Madara has returned to destroy the village.

To be continued...

Chapter 5 - Return >>

#angelica writes #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama x you #'til death do us part #you never said goodbye timeline/au

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slashers-favorite-girl · 3 years ago

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Party

A knock at my door made my head jerk up, my hand stilling, clutching the tip of the knife. I set the stone down, the sigil half carved into it as I slipped the knife into my pocket before I breathed in, my hand turning the knob as I opened the door.

Bo's blue eyes peered down at me, the corner of his mouth tucked up. I watched the human, noting how his eyes darted past me, looking around the darkness briefly as he spoke.

"Don't mean to bother ya, but we were wondering if you wanted to come out here for a lil' bit. We got a mean game of pool going on, got some crawfish boil brewing out back, having ourselves a little party."

I eyed him, my nails digging into the back of the door.

"You want me to attend your gathering?" I questioned. My stomach felt tight, an eyebrow raising on my face.

"You ain't got to be so fancy with your words, but yeah. Everyone else is here, even Lester, my little brother. I don't think you met him yet."

It would be nice to step out of the room, I had been in it all day, organizing and decorating it, there was no work to be done it was a day off for all of us, so I was able to focus on my space. The thought of food was tempting though, fighting with the dread of being around so many people at once.

"Okay." I said, surprising myself. He nodded, knocking on the doorframe. "Alright, come out an' join us when you're ready, Moth."

He stepped away as I watched his back. I became aware of the music playing, the voices and conversation.

I closed the door, a sigh escaping my lips. I should have said no. I needed to stay away, keep a clear boundary. There's no reason why they would accept me.

My hands moved on their own as I changed my clothes, putting on a hoodie, and some ripped jeans instead of the pajamas I was wearing. I pulled the hair around my shoulders out of my way, grabbing an elastic to put half of it up, before I slipped on my old converse, tucking the laces away.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob. I took in a breath, vulnerable, before I closed my eyes. I opened the door, stepping out.

I made my way to the large room, Bo, Vincent, and Brahms were gathered at the pool table, seemingly in the middle of the game.

I kept to the corner of the room, taking a seat as I simply watched them. The clack of the balls hitting drew my attention as I watched the game, tapping my fingers to the music. I was happy to observe, to learn. It felt strange, being in a room full of humans. One's that weren't trying to hurt me.

My head turned as new person stepped in, followed by Jade, one of the other employees of the shop. Jade went to the pool table, the game continuing.

I turned my attention to the man, his eyes on me, as I stared back. He was wearing overalls, one of the straps undone, a tank top underneath. He had a hat on, hiding his brown hair. His head was tilted, a small smile appearing on his lips as he stepped forward.

"Hi." He said, his face friendly.

"Hello." I responded, eyeing him still, on guard with how friendly he seemed to be. He pointed to the pool table.

"Lotsa people here now. Bo's been wanting some help but we didn't think this many people would be interested," he scratched his forehead, mumbling, "didn't think he'd let so many people be here either," his attention turned back to me, his eyes looking me over, "you're Moth right? That's a cool name."

"You know my name?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Bo mentioned ya, well all of ya, that he has a small group now." He grinned. "Anyway I got to check on the food. Nice speakin' to you."

I nodded as I watched him head to the pool table, Bo was leaned over, about to shoot. He moved his arm, Lester moving at the same time, bumping him and making him miss. He ran out of the room laughing, Bo chasing after him with the cue.

I found myself smiling at the scene, hiding it behind my sleeve. My attention turned to the sound of nails clicking on the floor as my gaze went down to the dog before me.

It stared at me, watching me. I stared back, my throat feeling tight suddenly. Some animals didn't enjoy my presence, so I was cautious, still. The last thing I needed was it attacking, I didn't have the best experiences with animals, I tried to stay away from them, more for the animals sake then my own.

"Scared of Jonesy?"

I jumped, my head shooting up to look at Bo, who knelt next to the dog, patting her flank as he spoke. "She's a good mutt, you afraid of dogs?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Not afraid of them, they usually are of me."

He shook his head slightly. "Nah, not a mean bone in her body, huh girl?"

He stood up, motioning between me and the animal. "Go on, stick your hand out, let her sniff ya."

I eyed the dog, her eyes still on me, her ear twitching as I moved slowly, my fingers curled into a loose fist as I lifted it, leaning forward to bring it towards the dog. I left it out, not close enough to be in biting distance as I waited.

"Hello, Jonesy." I said as soft as I could, trying to make myself as least threatening as I could.

But a predator could smell a predator, as she sniffed my hand, her hackles raised for a moment, my arm was frozen stiff as she stepped closer, her cold nose bumping over the skin of my hand. The sudden lick surprised me, the hot breath of her as she huffed, her head looking between Bo and myself.

I let out the breath I was holding as I slid out of my seat, kneeling before the dog. Her attention went back to me as my hand went to her ear, my fingers digging into her scruff. The relief flowed through my veins, a quiet joy in my chest at the acceptance from the creature. She laid down, her stomach on display now as I rubbed it, patting it with a satisfying thump to her sides as she had a derpy dog face, her ear bent wrong and her tongue lolling out.

"See? Slobbering someone to death is her specialty." Bo said, chuckling as he left.

I petted her some more, indulging in the delight of a happy, if somewhat spit filled company.

A voice broke me out of the moment. "Hey Moth! Come join us for some beer pong!"

I looked up, the group was now trying to toss a ball into a triangle of red cups. The music was still playing, everyone seemed to be, happy. They were waiting for my response, as I hesitated. The offer to include me had taken me by surprise as my fingers idly rubbed the dog's ear. I had wanted to find a place amongst humans, and the only way to do that it seemed was to interact with them in a more friendlier manner then I was comfortable with. I let out a breath, shoving the fears I had away. Maybe I could keep this up, enjoy these moments while I was able to. I could prove I wasn't a monster.

"Sure." I said, nodding to them. I glanced down at the dog, another smile pulling my lips.

"Humans aren't so scary if you just show your belly instead of your teeth, right?" I whisper to her.

((Note from me- if anyone wants to rp the party by all means go ahead. The idea popped into my head but I didn't know how to implement it, so I wrote this. I like to think the brothers would like to have a little get together, Bo does have a huge charisma and ego so why wouldn't he want the attention, right?))

#moth b gremlin #oc rp #jonesy is the best dog #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #brahms heelshire #open roleplay

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writerbyaccident · 5 years ago

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Flaunting (Yandere Tomura ShigarakixFemReader)

Frowning at you from the doorway, Shigaraki scratched his neck lightly. You had been so much better behaved lately, listening to him and submitting to him the way that you were meant to. And now that you were finally acting the way you should have been acting from the start, there was something he was just longing to do with you. Truthfully, he had wanted to do it the first day he had brought you home, but you had needed to be broken-in first. Now, though—now he could show you off just the way that he wanted.

“Get up,” Shigaraki said, you snapping to attention instantly at the sound of his voice. The sight of you scrambling out of bed so quickly had him grinning, remembering the days where you would have just told him to go fuck himself. Punishing you for acting that way had been fun, of course, but Shigaraki much preferred seeing you so well trained.

“Put this on,” he ordered, handing you the dress he wanted you to wear. You took it without question, setting it down on the bed before beginning to take off the shirt of his you had been wearing. Shigaraki licked his lips as he watched you strip, taking in every inch of bare skin that he saw. No matter how many times he saw you naked before him, he knew that he would never get bored of it.

On the other hand, you could feel yourself slowly getting used to it. Although your cheeks were still flushed as he leered at you, you didn’t bother trying to cover yourself like you had so many times before. Even when you realized that the “dress” he handed you was actually a lingerie nightgown, you continued putting it on, knowing that nothing good would happen if you protested. Once you finally finished putting it on, you nearly trembled with the effort of keeping yourself from crossing your arms over your almost entirely exposed breasts.

Mouth spreading into a sickly grin, Shigaraki practically devoured the image you presented to him, his crimson eyes scraping over every single one of your curves. He nearly abandoned his plan entirely, tempted to just throw you back on the bed and fuck you raw. But still, showing you off was to the rest of the league had been something he had wanted to do for so long now. So rather than tearing the lacy nightgown he had you put on, Shigaraki ignored his baser instincts for once and took your wrist in his hand.

“Wh—where are we going?” you ventured to ask, too curiously confused to stop yourself. From the first day Shigaraki had taken you, he hadn’t let you out of his room, telling you that you hadn’t earned the privilege yet.

“Down to the bar,” he answered, “c’mon.” Blinking in surprise at this information, you picked up your pace as Shigaraki tugged your wrist.

When you finally reached the bar, both you and Shigaraki were nearly breathless with excitement. You because you hadn’t seen anything but the same bedroom and attached bathroom for so long now, and Shigaraki because he was finally going to get to flaunt you to his followers. Not every member of the league was currently there, but Shigaraki was in far too good of a mood to care. The sight of Spinner, Big Sis Magne, and Dabi’s eyes widening in shock was more than enough for him. They probably thought I was lying about her the whole time, Shigaraki thought with bitter satisfaction. In truth, his fellow villains had simply thought that they would never actually get the chance to see you after so long of Shigaraki guarding you so jealously. One by one they each took in the bruises and hickeys littering your exposed skin before looking away when Shigaraki glared at them. Just cause he brought you down to show you off, after all, didn’t mean that they could stare at you like that. He wasn’t just flaunting you—he was flaunting the fact that you belonged to him, that he owned you.

Pulling you over towards the bar, Shigaraki sat down on a barstool before patting his lap. Everyone kept stealing glances your way, each of them wondering if you would obey their boss’s signal and take a seat on his lap or if you would dare try to defy him. Although none of them had seen your face before, they had all heard your voice, had heard your screams and yells when you tried to deny Shigaraki what he wanted. To all of their surprise though (and to Dabi’s disappointment), you didn’t bother trying to protest, instead settling yourself on Shigaraki’s lap immediately.

“Make me a drink,” Shigaraki told Kurogiri, who currently stood behind the bar. You recognized the misted man, having met him previously on the days when Shigaraki was gone but didn’t trust you on your own. The rest of the league, however, you weren’t sure of. Though Shigaraki did sometimes mention them in passing, he didn’t exactly encourage you asking about them. And even now that you were seeing them, Shigaraki didn’t see the point of introducing them to you, convinced that he was the only person you should bother caring about.

“Looks like you got her trained,” Dabi called out suddenly from across the room. At the sound of Dabi’s voice, Shigaraki dug his nails into your bare legs, simultaneously angered and proud at his comment.

“I do,” Shigaraki said, tightening his arms around your waist until you could hardly breathe.

“Does she do any tricks?” Dabi chuckled, walking over so that he stood beside the two of you. “Cause I don’t think I’d mind seeing some.”

At that, Shigaraki glared fiercely at Dabi, and you could feel the growl rumbling in the back of his throat. For your part, you felt fear rising in your own throat, both at Dabi’s unwelcome comment and at Shigaraki’s building reaction. Not wanting to see what would happen, and not wanting your captor to think you enjoyed the attention from another man, you promptly buried your face in Shigaraki’s chest. Smirking at your reaction, his anger nearly forgotten, Shigaraki began caressing your hair with perverse gentleness.

“She does,” Shigaraki purred darkly. “Only for me though.”

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bgn846 · 4 years ago

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Marshal’s Creed FFXV Fanfic

Summary:

Cor dresses up for the annual Halloween gala in hopes to win a bet. Can he beat out everyone else at the party with the best costume?

Notes:

I had a fun prompt from my friend @ragewerthers for Cor Leonis getting invited to a Halloween party.... but what in the HELL is he supposed to go as?! Do Regis and Clarus help him? Do the boys help him? Does he decide to go scary? Funny? Mythical?

I hope you all enjoy, I had fun writing this! :)

Work Text:

“What is he wearing?” Regis asked under his breath from where they were standing near the steps to the throne.

“Not so sure, but it seems pretty popular with the ladies,” Clarus admitted as he craned his neck to see better.

“Dear six, he looks half-naked!” spluttered Regis after a moment.

“Sorta, he’s got pants and maybe something someone would consider a shirt on.” Though Clarus was still clueless as to what Cor had dressed up as. The annual Halloween gala was always a fun event. However, the marshal never dressed up.

Ever.

It was only the quick thinking of Regis with the tempting draw of a bet that enticed their friend into wearing anything special this year. A hefty amount of 500gil sat waiting for Cor if he dressed up and won one of the sundry costume awards to be gifted that night. The prizes given out were little awards trinkets, and the bragging rights until the next party. Of course, Cor could care less about any of that, the only reason he’d even agreed, was to prove Regis wrong and maybe relieve him of some decent spending cash.

The king had figured Cor wasn’t creative enough to even stand a chance. Regis had merely snorted and waved him off when the marshal assured them he’d win something. Now, as Clarus watched their friend navigate through the crowd he was beginning to think Regis might have to pay up at the end of the night.

The squeals of impressed party goers only got louder as Cor approached, as did the flash of lights from photos being snapped. The crowds dispersed once he’d reached the king. Cor yawned once seemingly bored with the whole affair already. “You might as well give me the money now, Regis.”

“Never!” the king hissed, “You aren’t going to win, look at you! What is that, it looks like a pile of rags!”

Before Cor could answer a young staffer passing by interrupted them with a shout, “Awesome costume!” They left just as quickly as Clarus began to examine the outfit in more detail.

“I’m afraid I’m lost as to what you are, care to enlighten us?”

“Eh, this? I have no idea, Noct helped me pick it out. Said it was the best costume to wear and had Ignis go online and order me one before I could say no.”

“You asked my son to help you?”

“Nope, he found out I was going to dress up and he nearly flipped. How could I say no, he begged me to let him help.”

“Still what the hell are you?” Regis asked in exasperation.

“An assassin I think?” Cor supplied with a furrowed brow. “Honestly, the kid was talking too fast for me to catch the exact name, but he said it was from a game.”

“Why in the heck would an assassin wear that? Your entire right side is exposed, seems like a defensive nightmare.”

“I’ll admit it’s not exactly realistic but it’s comfy at least.” Cor offered with a shrug.

“I don’t know why you let my son talk you into this, you look ridiculous.” Regis was about to add more when another party-goer/staffer wandered by and started staring. They were of course after a picture of Cor. The staffer was young and blushing like mad but still managed to ask for a selfie.

“I’m sorry what were you saying majesty? I got pulled away to have my picture taken because I’m going to win.”

Regis sneered and turned around to walk away. Clarus couldn’t help but snicker at the sight. Regis was a sore loser so a part of him hoped Cor wouldn’t win, but he probably would. The marshal, though not a youthful twenty-year-old anymore, could hold his own in the looks department. He was only in his forties now but still trained just as hard. His well-defined six-pack was evidence of that. Clarus suspected that most of the girls wandering over were trying to get a better look at what he’d been hiding under his guard uniform.

Cor for once didn’t mind the attention and even smiled for a few shots. It was nice to see his friend out of his element for once. “Have you seen his highness?” Clarus asked, figuring Noct would have at least had to help Cor get ready. Otherwise, the man wouldn’t have known how to wear the costume.

“Yeah, he’s coming soon, he was getting picky about his nails.”

“What?”

“You’ll see, he’ll match grumpy pants over there,” Cor announced with a chuckle. “Regis thinks sporting little tiny fake fangs makes him a good vampire. He’s so wrong.”

“Oh dear,” Clarus could only guess what Noct had conjured up. Ignis would have been key in gathering his needed elements, but the idea was most likely the princes. “What are the others dressing up as?”

Cor barked out a laugh, “I only saw Ignis and Prompto but it appeared they were wearing matching black suits.”

“That’s it?”

“Almost, if you don’t count the wolf tail they both had clipped to their belts and the wolf ear headbands.”

“I’m so confused,” he sighed. However, right as he was about to ask for more details a sudden hush overtook the room. Looking up he noticed what had caused the reaction. Ignis, Prompto, and his son were stalking over towards them. They all matched and looked quite formidable. However, Noct seemed to be missing. The black suits had matching black shirts and ties to go with. One might take them all for security guards aside from the addition of the animal ears atop their heads. One thing Cor hadn’t mentioned was their eye color. Each had donned a pair of contacts that made their eyes look golden and cat-like.

As they neared, Clarus realized there was a fourth pair of legs hiding behind Ignis. This must be the prince. Waiting patiently as the group finally came to a rest in front of them, Clarus was treated to the reveal. A pale hand with amusingly long pointy black nails slowly crept out from behind Ignis arm. It reached out and pointed straight at him. Then in a move that had Clarus snorting with laughter, Noct curled his fingers and beckoned him closer.

“You’re nuts if you think I’m letting you near me with those daggers,” he laughed.

Noct merely shook his finger and carefully leaned to the side to show his face. The prince’s hair was slicked back and someone had drawn in an exaggerated widow’s peak.

“I see you’re taking your role far more seriously than your father.”

“I shall win,” was all Noct uttered before he hissed and retreated behind his bodyguards again.

With a quick bow, Ignis led the way back out into the party. The advisor was playing his part very well and looked like he’d snap a person in two if they even tried to talk to the prince. Prompto was fighting to hide a smile as they turned to leave. Gladio offered Clarus and eyebrow waggle and a wink before he left. They were having fun it seemed.

“So forgive me for being a little behind on my fantasy lore, why are they all wearing animal ears and tails?” Clarus asked kindly.

“He’s a vampire and he needs his werewolf pack to protect him.”

“Ah, I see. Noct basically thought up the perfect costume, ensuring he doesn’t have to talk with anyone.”

“Pretty much, he’s clever in that way, unlike his old man!” Cor teased as Regis joined them again.

Ignoring Cor’s comment, Regis stared at Noct’s retreating party and tilted his head, “Was that my son?”

“Yep you missed the reveal; he’s a vampire with a coven of werewolves.”

Regis simply smiled and straightened his shoulders slightly, “He takes after me in so many ways.”

Cor groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, “You wish, look it I’m gonna go mingle and get some more votes in my favor. I’m winning this contest tonight, be ready to pay up.”

Regis tried to whack Cor in the shin with his cane, but the marshal was quicker and leaped out of the way. He laughed and casually wandered away, complete with a smug look of satisfaction.

“He’s such a brat sometimes,” Regis huffed.

“He’s only five years younger than you.”

“Shut it; let’s go see if we can convince the judges to ban him or something.”

Cor did not get banned.

Clarus had the joy of watching his friend claim a very special award, the citadels’ sexiest costume. Apparently, the panel of judges was also distracted by Cor’s exposed right side and six-pack. The few other contestants in that category didn’t stand a chance. No manner of makeup could fake muscles or a square jawline.

Regis didn’t have to pout for long though when his son won the night's overall best costume design. The king was proud of his son and his friends. They’d banded together to create a memorable look. Noct stayed in character when he accepted his award and tried to bite one of the presenters. Gladio sprang into action and held him back. The room erupted in laughter and cheers.

Suddenly thankful they could all enjoy moments like this together; Clarus smiled and looked over to his friend and King. Regis must have had a similar reaction as he returned a warm smile of his own and a small nod.

The rest of the night was a blur; Cor had come playfully demanding his money. Regis denied him, but Clarus knew he’d pay up in the morning. His liege kept trying to accuse Cor of cheating since he was only wearing half a costume. The marshal would then wiggle his award in front of Regis’ face as a rebuttal.

The music soon turned up loud enough that they couldn’t talk anymore. Opting to retreat to the far corner of the room the three friends sat and relaxed. They spend the remainder of the evening commenting on the costumes and the terrible music.

The End.

AO3 link is posted in the comments.

#ffxv #fanfic #cor leonis #the immortal #the marshal

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bluecoffeemugs · 4 years ago

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Hey guys... so i just re-wrote the very first chapter to my fic.

I did it bc of many factors, but mainly it was bc I didn’t like it anymore and I noticed how much my writing had improved. It just didn’t seem fair that the ending was much better written than the beginning, bc i feel like no one would get past the first chapters bc of my writing. I mean yeah, it has much more attention that i could hope for, but i’m pretty self-critical about my work, so i just had to re-write it.

Anyway, I’ll just post the chapter here because I want you to give it another chance, maybe it spikes your interest now. I’m putting a whole lot of effort in the ending, it’s got just a couple of chapters left, so it will be a finished fic soon.

Here it is:

(bill cipher x dipper pines. pirate au. pirate!bill. siren!dipper.)

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The gigantic ship swayed calmly over the ocean. The night was clear, the fresh salty scent of the sea lingered on the deck of the Golden Giant. The only sound besides the water below the ship, crashing small waves on the wooden walls of the ship, was the croaking sound of the captain's footsteps on the wood.

The crew had already released the plank, readying the ship for what they had been planning to do for months. And so, they stood, expectant and eager for what was to come, waiting for orders on deck.

The blond captain walked out of his cabin with a grin on his face. See, their crew had been waiting to catch this creature for months, but he had been waiting years. Oh, captain Bill Cipher knows about sirens. He knows how those beasts slaughter his kind. But he is not afraid of them, not a single ounce! The pirate also know how difficult it can be to catch one, he has heard countless stories and legends, none of them have succeeded. However, there has never been a legendary pirate that has tried to capture a siren.

Indeed. Bill Cipher is a legend. He has been living in the sea for as long as he can remember, and it has slowly become his life as a whole. Since he was a little boy, he was not only charming and ambitious but also highly curious. The supernatural and mystic myths spiked his interest from a very early age, so his drive for adventure and the unknown has never ceased.

Bill Cipher had always been so invested on mysteries, that he became a mystery himself.

The captain seeks creatures — all around the seven seas, and of any kind or species — studies them, and then sells them. The highest bidding of gold takes the price! Cipher doesn't need the creature anymore, what else could he do with them? Set them free? Now that would be insane. Setting them free means letting them go for free. If they won't pay, Cipher won't deliver. Besides, it's none of the blond's concern what the bidders do with the creatures after they buy them. Will they study them as he does? Will they slaughter them? Will they cook them, even if they're still alive, just to know what they taste like and brag about eating a mythic creature? Meh, Cipher doesn't care. He never has.

The blond went down the stairs and on to the deck to meet his crew. Such familiar faces that have grown into a family. See, Bill Cipher didn't always have his own ship and crew. Of course, he did acquire his ship — through a most epic fight he will never forget — when he was eleven years old, but still, not belonging to a family for his entire childhood until he was almost a teenager was not easy.

Belonging. Ha! Bill Cipher knows he doesn't belong. He actually takes pride in it! Because you know what? He figured that belonging to made you somebody else's possession, so he swore to himself he would be the only one who ever got to own himself and/or others.

Nonetheless, his current crew is better than what he could ask for. They are invested in the supernatural almost as much as he is, all of them have unique abilities that benefit him either on battle, on investigation, navigation, or plans, and most importantly, they are loyal. That's the quality Cipher values the most.

The captain was finally greeted by his crew. They were standing in line, looking at their pirate in anticipation, eager. All of them were loaded with their weapons of choice, let it be guns, knives, swords, or even knuckles.

The crew cheered at their captain, smiling widely at him. As the moonlight and oil lanterns were the only light that lit their faces, the shadows looked menacing and eerie.

The blonde returned the sly grin and humorously vowed to his crew's cheers. He was wearing a tail-coat made of leathery-fabric, a white button-down shirt that wasn't all that white anymore, black pants, and a slightly loose golden and weaponized belt around the hips. He was carrying his favorite gun and sword, plus other minor weapons that he hid not only around his belt but also around his whole body. And of course, he wore leather boots that reached almost up to his knees and his fancy black pirate hat, which had a single golden feather and some jewels adorning it.

"Tonight's the night, fellas," he spoke, his crew finally shutting up. "As we speak, fierce beasts are swimming below us, ready to devour another pack of men. Creatures that have forever lured uncountable men to their deaths by using their celestial voices and bodies."

His crew nodded. They knew all of this already, but something about hearing it right was those beasts live made it a whole lot more difficult to bear. Now they weren't only listening to a story, they were about to experience one. And maybe, they wouldn't even get to live to tell it.

"We will be the first known pirates to ever defeat them; conquer them!" The captain continued to speak. The crew's nerves turning into excitement, "Tonight, we catch a siren!"

Everyone cheered and punched their fists in the air. Noise returning to its natural state.

“Kitty,” Cipher continued, nodding to the toughest-looking man on the crew, “you will be in charge of the ship while I go on the rowboat.”

The man nodded in return, so the captain kept speaking, “Bigfoot, Cain, Red, Onyx, and Tiny, you will be staying here too.”

The biggest man in the crew, a man with a scar across his face, a red-haired young adult male, a woman with almost charcoal-black skin, and a small boy nodded in response.

“Guard my baby while I'm out," Cipher joked and winked. They all knew how much he loved his ship. “And that leaves Hellhound, Dawn, Dagger, and Cheat with me."

A muscular young man, a tough but very beautiful looking woman, another woman highly equipped with at least half a dozen daggers and swords, and a teenage boy agreed.

“Get settled, then.”

And with that, they all retreated to stuff their ears with cloth or wax to muffle de sound of the sirens' voices. They had been preparing for this, they knew exactly what to do. They also knew perfectly well to stand their ground, no matter how tempting a siren could look. And most importantly, they knew that their goal was to catch a siren, not kill one. If for some reason they started to get aggressive, which they figured would be bound to happen, they would result in violence.

A few minutes later, the rowboat with Cipher's chosen crew was lowered down to the ocean. They paddled slightly further away from the ship, and then stopped when they started to notice the shadows under them. They were currently surrounded by huge boulders, covered in algae and coral, where they also spotted movement. A wave of adrenaline washed over everyone's veins, making the captain smile even more widely.

Cipher's team had their ears shut by different types of material, except for the captain himself. He was wearing an enchanted necklace of black pearls, which made him completely immune to the sirens' singing.

Soon enough, a ginger-haired siren came out of the water, and the pirates were immediately amazed by her beauty. However, none of them moved, as they waited for their captain's orders.

The siren swam closer to the boat, her eyes fixed on Cheat, the youngest one on the boat. The ginger held a powerful gaze, making the boy shiver, which was either because of her captivating beauty or because he realized he had been chosen as her meal.

The captain shot Cheat a confident look, making the teenager feel just a tiny bit better.

When the siren was practically touching the ship, another one came up to them. This one had curly, black hair and was staring straight at Dagger. Then a few seconds later, another creature appeared, she had darker skin and powerful blue eyes, swimming closer to Hellhound. The captain felt slightly overwhelmed by the sudden arrivals, but he never lost his calm.

Suddenly they realized that the ginger siren had gotten so close to the boat, she could easily snatch Cheat and drown him. Then, she saw the spears and fishnets, freezing on the spot.

"They're hunters!" She yelled, making all of the other sirens gasp and submerge back underwater. Cipher thought they were going to attack, but apparently, this pack of sirens had had other experiences with pirates and did not wish to repeat them.

Sure enough, however, the ginger siren was not going to leave her favorite meal alive, so she launched, grabbing Cheat with her sharp nails, and pulling him underwater with her. Hellhound threw himself forward and grabbed onto Cheat's legs.

The siren's strength was immense, causing Hellhound to begin to sink. Dawn and Dagger grabbed his torso and began to pull him to the boat. At this point, Cheat was completely submerged. In the meantime, Cipher loaded a crossbow and aimed to the spot where the siren was holding Cheat.

"No!" Dawn exclaimed although she could barely hear her own words because of the wax in her ears, "You might shoot Cheat!"

"Don't worry, sweetie" Cipher said calmly, fully aware that Dawn knew him enough to be able to read his lips perfectly, then shot the arrow. The movement below the water stopped. Hellhound pulled Cheat back to the surface. The boy was unconscious. Dawn began trying to remove the water from the teen's lungs.

Cheat suddenly coughed a great amount of water and took in shaky breaths, shivering. Dawn just looked at the captain and slowly shook her head.

"I never miss," Cipher said, obvious pride in his voice, Dawn could see it by the look of his face. She turned away.

The blond nodded at the coughing boy, and the teen managed a smile. Then the captain took off his coat and handed it to him, as the boy obviously needed it more than him at the moment. Cheat muttered a thank you.

Cipher sat down with a sigh and looked around. He signaled his crew to hide the weapons and the fishnets, he should've known better. He might have blown their chance for the night, maybe their only chance! How could he have not foreseen that?

Time passed, and as he feared, no one else showed up. The pirates waited in silence. Cheat was almost completely dry now.

The captain fixed his eyes on the boulder closest to them, lost in thought, when he spotted another pair of eyes staring back. Immediately after those eyes noticed the pirate was looking at them, they hid behind the huge rock. Cipher stood up with a jolt, making the others around him jump in surprise. Then, nodded towards the rock and signaled his crew to remain silent.

"Hello?" Cipher said loudly, with the kindest voice he could manage, "We don't want to hurt you."

After waiting a few minutes for a sign of life, and not seeing the eyes again, he sat back down and sighed. He looked at the boat's wooden floor, sighing in defeat. Maybe he had imagined it.

Then, his crew gasped.

Cipher looked up and saw the siren far away, right beside the boulder. The light from their boat did not reach that far, so he could only see a dark figure the clear brown eyes looking back at him.

The captain stood up again, this time more slowly. He smiled gently at the creature, and spoke, just loud enough for the siren to hear, "We're just curious about your species, we don't mean any harm."

"I saw you shoot one of us," the siren said, still in the dark. His voice cracked but tried to remain steady. This only intrigued Cipher even more, because he had found himself a male siren.

The crew looked at each other with wide eyes, they didn't understand what the captain and the siren were saying, but they sure as hell knew they were having a conversation.

Cipher remained calm, answering to the siren, "She was trying to drown one of us."

"You're hunters," the siren said gravely, much more as a statement than a question.

"We're pirates," the blond responded, as if it were pretty obvious, "we have weapons to defend ourselves, it's in our nature. Just as much as it is in your nature to lure us to death. Fair game, don't you think?"

The siren thought in silence, analyzing the words. But Cipher was not about to wait anymore, so he offered, "If you don't harm us, we don't harm you. Deal?"

Something about the way the pirate spoke made the siren want to trust him. Even if he knew the stories of pirates, how reckless and dangerous they were"¦ curiosity had always won him over. And something in his gut made him think that this pirate was not lying.

The words lingered. Cipher was afraid the siren might be smarter than him and swim away for good. But he was proven wrong when the siren slowly came into view, swimming closer to the boat.

When the siren was just a few feet away from the rowboat, the lantern's light finally glowed on his skin. Instantly, the pirates were captivated by his beauty. They had never seen a merman, much less a male siren.

"You can come closer," the captain said, leaning closer to the water, "See? I have nothing on my hands," he said as he lifted his hands up innocently.

The siren moved closer, feeling just slightly safer and a whole lot more curious. He was intrigued by the sailors, he had never seen so many up close, and they were all staring back at him. The feeling was overwhelming.

Cipher smiled at the siren, then turned to Hellhound and winked, which roughly meant wait for my signal.

The siren's light blue tail was almost touching the rowboat's wood from below. He looked about Cheat's age.

The blond placed both of his hands behind his back. The siren and he just stared at each other in awe, each of them amazed by the other. Cipher noticed there were splashes of tiny blue scales on his shoulders, he had chocolate brown hair, and the most entrancing deep brown eyes the captain had ever seen. His gaze was purely innocent and curious.

"You're magnificent," the captain whispered to the siren, completely lost in the siren's eyes, almost forgetting what he was there for. Almost. Behind his back, he closed his hand into a fist. And so, the crew launched the fishnet at the siren and fastened it as fat and swiftly as possible, apprehending the siren.

The brunet screamed an unholy scream, Cipher was suddenly jealous of his crewmates with wax on their ears. The siren tried to escape the nets, almost knocking the boat over, but the crew acted faster. They lifted him, and with a loud thump, the siren was on the boat.

The captain had a large grin on his face and got closer to the siren. The siren had never felt so much fright in his entire life. He felt as if his heart had run up to his throat and was about to be regurgitated. He was about to scream louder, and try to knock the boat over once again, but with one swift move, one of the men that was holding him down injected a syringe into his skin. The last thing he saw was the grin on the blond pirate that had just betrayed him, until all faded to black.

#billdip #fanfic #fanfic billdip #fanfiction #bill cipher #dipper pines #dipper x bill #bill x dipper #pirate au #golden giant #siren dipper pines #pirate bill cipher #fantasy

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lastluvbug · 5 years ago

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Dude your little fool me once and twice series just stabbed me I'm the feels like, dude I am legit crying. XD WE NEED SOME FLUFF IN THIS PIECE SO ITS UP TO ME TO REQUEST SOMETHING! (if you are willing to do it you don't have to just saying.) So can you do a request where the MC (Yuu) has had a stressful day after dealing with some bullies that she has been trying not to tell anyone about but Kalim and Jamil end up finding out. What will they do?

Ahh!! Thank you thank you for the ask! Of course I’m willing to do it!

Warnings: Bullying

Desert Flower

“Fgnaaaaaaa!!!”

Yuu was roughly torn from her ever enigmatic dreaming by a scratchy scream and a distinct flush of heat to her side.

Yelping through her disorientation, she pushed herself away from the source of the burning, rubbing her eyes to clear away the sleep induced fuzziness. “G-Grim! Hey, what’s wrong?!” She cried, hands hovering just above the cat-like creature who was writhing on the bed, blue flame encircling him.

“Grim! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!” She took the monster into her arms, biting back a wince as her hands were scorched by the heat, fading after a second as Grim’s eyes snapped open.

“Yuu...! Yuu, he was going to eat me!” He sobbed, cuddling into her embrace.

“Who? What was happening in your dream?”

“It was Jamil’s shadow! He looked so hungry, like he was going to...”

Yuu wanted to laugh, but she smiled softly instead, smoothing out Grim’s fur and petting lightly over his ears, quelling his hysteria. “It wasn’t real. I thought you were a great hero! A hero’s not afraid of anything, right?” She tempted, playing with his small paws.

“Absolutely! I-I’m not afraid of some silly monster!” Grim agreed, taking Yuu’s bait. She was going to reply, when a loud rumbling promptly shut her down, making her laugh briskly. “...But I am scared of this appetite! I’m starving, let’s eat!” He cheered, throwing a curled paw up.

“Hmph, so brave...” She sighed, setting Grim down, “go on down. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay~!”

Grim leapt off the bed, mumbling something Yuu couldn’t quite catch as he left, kicking the door shut behind him.

Giggling at her friend’s antics, the smile was quickly forgotten as her hands began to sting, sharp as first but easing as she relaxed the muscles. Peering down at the soft skin, she groaned at the cherry red sight, slightly swollen and puffy from the burns they suffered. “Guess I have to be even more careful than before... just until this heals up, that is.”

Yuu was cautious as she stood from the bed and fixed her uniform, brushing out her hair and changing her sleepwear. She hesitated briefly as she glanced herself over in the mirror above the forever unlit fireplace, cringing at her face.

It was apparent she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, as usual, even without Grim’s little interruption. Further still, perhaps unnoticeable by anyone besides her, a dark, defeated darkness twisted her lips in a frown, her bright eyes dimmed with an unnamed melancholy.

She knew the reason why. She knew the reason why she hesitated in every class, why she started eating less and less, why it was becoming difficult to look anyone in the eye.

Pushing the room door open silently, Yuu headed down the hall, flexing her hands slowly in front of her as she sucked in a sharp breath. “That sure looks painful, did the kitty do that to you?” Yuu screamed at the sudden intrusion, jumping back a few feet as she glared at the ghost.

“Do you absolutely need to do that?” She scolded, growling.

“What do you want me to do? Wear a bell and jingle everywhere I go?” The chubby ghost joked, laughing heartily at Yuu’s unimpressed expression. “My concern is real, y’know. I’m not sure you should leave today, especially if you’re going to be hounded by those bullies again.”

Yuu flinched, clenching her fist despite the screaming pain that followed. That one had been her accident.

Ever since arriving at NRC, Yuu was accutely aware of her misplacement, both because of her gender and because of her lack of magical abilities. As if the self doubt wasn’t enough, it wasn’t long before some of the students made the same realization, and used it against her in the worst ways. Tormenting her, they called her names, ridiculed her, broke her down inch by inch.

It wasn’t until she happened to stumble upon a certain pair of classmates that she found a way to cope. She couldn’t remember exactly how she met Kalim Al-Asim and Jamil Viper, but could vaguely recall bumping into the shorter during lunch, earning a snide remark from the vice and a carefree laugh from the head. From there, she found herself spending more and more time with the duo, eventually earning the trust and friendship from them, though it took a while to break down Jamil’s guard.

That was how she managed to hide her secret for so long. She’d met so many people, made so many friends, but none like Kalim and Jamil. She knew that they had a full plate as it was, but adding her problems to it? No way, she wanted to prove that she could handle herself, that she could stand up and face the problem head on.

So one night after a particularly cruel session of verbal abuse, she tucked Grim into bed, rushed to the rundown lounge, and cried. She was sure to be quiet, covering her mouth with her hands and suppressing her whimpers, but cried nonetheless, completely unaware of the ghosts that watched.

When they emerged from the shadows to comfort her, that was when Yuu spilled her troubles, pleading with them to keep it a secret.

“I’ll be fine! After all, I’ll just do what I always do; works like a charm!” Yuu waved him off, shrugging the memory away.

“...Yuu. It’s not healthy to hide these things. Maybe you should tell someone.” He suggested, brows creased.

“No! I can handle this on my own. Now, thank you for your time, but I should be getting to Grim and class. Bye!”

“Just be safe!” The ghost warned, fading back into the walls as Yuu hopped down the steps.

She didn’t respond as she caught Grim in the kitchen, shoveling tuna into his mouth as she laughed. The almost unbearable heat of hunger flooded her gut, but pressing a hand to her stomach and swallowing thickly, she pushed it away. Not now.

“Come on, Grim! I want to go meet Kalim and Jamil!” Yuu smiled, bending over as she placed her hands delicately on her knees.

“Fgna... go yourself, I’m busy.” Grim refused, licking out the rest of the can.

“U-Uh, alright! See you later!” Yuu stammered, feigning bliss as she headed out, crossing her arms defensively across her torso.

As she trudged down Main Street, she glanced around anxiously, heart skipping a beat as sweat beaded on her temples. It wasn’t often she was this nervous, only the times when she was utterly alone in the open. Her bullies never targetted her when she was with someone else, aware that she had a way of guarding herself with another person.

Yuu was climbing the steps to the school building when she noticed them; the four boys leaning against the doors. “Well, looky looky! Up bright and early for the day, birdie?” One of them crowed, making her cringe at the use of the distasteful nickname.

She could recognize them by the colors of their arm bands. Two were from Savanaclaw, one from Heartslabyul, and one from Pomefiore, each with their own way of ripping her self esteem to shreds. “Please leave me alone.” She clipped, keeping her gaze to the concrete.

“Bowing your head? Please, even Riddle could pull off a better act.” Heartslabyul sneered, kicking off the wall.

“No no, I think it suits her,” one of the Savanaclaw lackeys croned, “prey should know their place.”

“You’ll never be like us. You’re just a little girl, meant to serve and nothing more.” The other added.

“And with that face? She’d be lucky to find a man at all!” Pomefiore finished, drowning the staircase in wicked laughter. “Lose a few pounds and we’ll talk, sweetie!”

Yuu grabbed at the hem of her shirts, absorbing every comment, eyes unfocused and blurry. Bearing through the abuse yet again, she pushed through the boys now crowded around her, entering the building and shutting them out.

“It’s not true, it’s not true, it’s not true,” Yuu whispered to herself, covering her ears with her burnt hands as she followed the scent of breakfast to the cafeteria, pleasantly illuminated with the lantern light.

She hadn’t even taken a step inside when she heard the call, beckoning. “Yuu~! Over here!”

Yuu looked up, dropping her hands as she met the eternally smiling face of Kalim, arm above his head as he waved her over, Jamil pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment at the scene. Wiping her upset look off, she redrew a cheeky grin onto her glower, refilling her eyes with joy.

“Hey Kalim, Jamil! What’re you up to this morning?” She prompted, feeling a warmth build in her stomach.

“Eh, the usual. Breakfast.” Kalim responded, gesturing to his plate. “Jamil made it all, so it’s super healthy and delicious!”

“Ha, I’m sure it is!” Yuu nodded, revealing her pearly whites in a grin. It faltered as her gut grumbled, quietly enough to only be felt by her.

“Would you like some, Yuu? There’s plenty to go around.” Jamil offered, setting his silverware aside. “I’ll get a plate if you’d—“

“No thanks! I’m alright!” Yuu all too quickly deflected, digging her nails into her thighs.

“Hm? Are you certain? It wouldn’t be a bother.” Jamil pursued, Yuu feeling yet another hunger-caused groan arising in her torso.

“Yep—you know me! I’ll eat later, I’m not very hungry right now.” She lied.

“...If you insist.” Jamil conceded, resuming his meal.

The only thing ringing within Yuu’s ears was the hurtful smear on her body; she’d always believed she was beautiful, inside and out. It didn’t matter that she had her flaws, everyone did, she loved herself. Until someone took those flaws and paraded around like her feelings didn’t matter.

“So Yuu, what are you doing after school today?” Kalim asked, surfacing Yuu from her abyssal mind.

“Hm? Oh... nothing, I think. Why?” She played with her hands, and the feeling of aching soreness that occurred whenever she wiggled her fingers.

“Kalim and I have a freed schedule. I was curious as to know if you’d like to join us later, maybe for a board game or two?” Jamil smiled mischievously.

“Uh—yes! I’d love an excuse to see you two show off your rivalry!” Yuu joked, repressing her urge to eat.

“It’s settled then. We’ll come get you after class.”

“Yeah, and don’t be late! I’m so ready to kick Jamil’s ass in Mancala!”

“How many times must I defeat you in that game to drill it into your thick skull that I’m better than you?”

Kalim merely broke out into a fit of giggles, the joy rather infectious as Yuu joined in, even earning a small grin from Jamil at the absurd banter.

It was a blink before the bell rung, and as she parted from the oppositional duo, Yuu strongly regretted turning down the meal. Her stomach was knotted, groaning as it ate away at itself, sickeningly warm and unpleasant.

“Yuu! Wait for me! I’m not big enough to walk that fast!” Grim ushered behind her, panting as he ran on his short legs to catch up.

“Ah, Grim! Did you enjoy the rest of your food?”

“Obviously! There’s something just so enticing about fish, don’t you think?”

Yuu gave an awkward smile. “Uh, sure...” She lifted him into her arms, carrying him gingerly as to not disturb her burns, which were still hidden away from her animal-esque companion.

Taking a seat in her normal spot, Yuu felt the unmistakable sense of eyes trained on her, and spun around, looking for the source. When she found it, she recoiled, tilting her head downwards as if to hide her presence behind the curtain of hair that fell around her daintily beautiful face.

Two of her harassers sat a little ways behind her, glaring as they snickered, attentive to Yuu’s semi-vulnerable position. Still, with that fire breathing raccoon, they couldn’t do anything to her directly.

Yuu could barely focus on the class, with the combined forces of physical pain and mental distress working to keep her very preoccupied. Even reminders from Mr. Trein didn’t snap her from her internal stupor, though she knew her bullies were cruelly ridiculing her every time she received a clip from the teacher.

The worst part was, there was no escaping it. In every period, it seemed like the problem was chasing her. She couldn’t avoid those judgemental glowers, or the hushed lampooning that always managed to hit so close to home.

Like most other days, Yuu skipped lunch, her stomach now having gone quiet thanks to the use of her continued starvation. She sat with Grim, joking lightly as she watched him eat, wishing she could do the same without the guilty thought of ruining her body.

And, through hour after hour, the school day ended with a piercing ring, all students being dismissed with an armful of homework and an array of deadlines, Yuu included. “I’m beat! I just want to go home!” Grim cried, stretching. He started to walk away, but stopped when Yuu didn’t follow. “Coming?”

“Uh, n-not today! Kalim and Jamil are going to walk me over to their dorm.” Yuu explained, leaning against the doorframe. “You could come with us, if you wanted.”

“And sit around, watching you do God-knows-what? No thanks. I’m heading back to the safety of my kitchen.” He refused, uninterested.

“Oh wait! Then... could you take these with you?” She held out her homework, significantly less than the average student thanks to her lack of magical prowess, but still enough to take up a good chunk of her free time.

“Eh? Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“Because I want to be here when Kalim and Jamil show up! And besides, the Great Grim can handle such a little job, right?”

“Man, I hate when you use that as you excuse...” Grim sighed, taking the papers, “but of course I can! Now I’ll be off. See ya later, Yuu!” He hopped off, leaving Yuu in the dead silence.

The feeling from earlier that day returned, hands becoming clammy, heart rate accelerating, and limbs becoming stiff as Yuu stood. She despised being alone, especially because she knew the situation she was in, but her stubbornness turned away any thought of asking for help. She couldn’t do that, and let her friends believe she was too weak to face her own problems!

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing outside that classroom, but as soon as those brawny figures emerged from thr shadows, she wished for nothing more than to dart into it. Fear kept her paralyzed, even as they trapped her in a circle, back preser to the wall. “All alone? Do you never learn from your mistakes? How dense can you be?”

“Please, stop. Haven’t you done enough?!” Yuu fought, never once making eye contact.

“Done enough? You’re lucky we’ve been this kind to you!” One of them laughed, earning grunts from the rest.

“Kind? You think calling me names and criticizing me is kind?” She didn’t know where this confidence came from, but she felt her adrenaline spike because of it.

She was finally going to stand up for herself.

<————>

“Ahh! I hope Yuu’s okay! I sure got an earful from Mr. Crewel...” Kalim worried, rubbing the back of his head.

“Only because your such a dunce,” Jamil rolled his eyes, “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s been a little... off as of late, but we’ll sort that out when we’re back at the dorms.”

“I know, I know... ugh, I’m going to go on ahead! I need to apologize!” Kalim decided, jogging to meet up with Yuu.

He’d screwed up a potion in class, earning a huge mess to clean and a lecture from Mr. Crewel as a reward, Jamil staying behind to help despite Kalim’s protests against it.

Rounding the corner, Kalim froze midstep, darting behind the wall once again to listen in on the event he stumbled upon.

Yuu stood with her back to the wall, face hidden in her hands as a group of four surrounded her, laughing. “No more spunk? I thought you wanted to fight back, birdie!”

Yuu didn’t respond as she sobbed, a pitiful sound that cracked the dorm leader’s heart into pieces.

Kalim quickly assessed the situation, identifying the four boys. He was more than aware of the fact that if he charged straight in, a fight would occur, and he was outmatched. The best thing he could do was get help.

Spinning on his heel with guilt encumbering his steps, he silently darted away, racing back to Jamil. “J-Jamil! Yuu needs help!” Kalim panted, pointing to down the hall.

The usually stoic vice flinched, eyes widening as he stumbled back a step. “What do you mean?” He asked hurriedly.

“Yuu, she’s—just get down there and keep them busy! I’m going to get Headmaster Crowley!”

“Got it! Be quick!” Jamil nodded, rushing down the corridor, silently forming a plan. He didn’t know who “they” were, or how many he was facing, but he knew he had a not so secret weapon he could use if worse comes to worse.

Darting out from the end of the hall, Jamil was almost half convinced that he was going to see nothing, but was proven sorely wrong when he realized the position Yuu was in.

“Just leave me alone!” She screamed, trying to swat away the enclosing boys around her.

“Oh, the gusto! Think you can hit back now?” A Savanaclaw flunkey grabbed Yuu’s hand roughly, making her cry out.

Like a lightning bolt, Jamil lurched forward, moving with an unmatched agility as he grabbed the unsuspecting student’s shirt, yanking him away as he protectively held Yuu, her face buried in his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He growled lowly, eyes clouded with a dark rage.

<————>

Yuu wasn’t sure where it went wrong.

One minute she had the confidence to face her foes, the next, tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks as she hid behind her hands.

Just after the bully roughly seized her hand, her burns sending stabbing agony down her arms, she was suddenly pressed close to someone’s chest, their grip tight enough to show their anger.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She recognized that voice, and the animosity it was thick with.

“So the birdie really did get help! Took long enough.”

“You’ll do well to refrain from speaking like that,” Jamil warned, a hand snaking into Yuu’s hair, “lest you wish for your own defeat.”

“Big talk. What’s someone so scrawny like you going to do anyways? Hiss at me, Viper?”

“Yuu, get behind me and cover your eyes,” Jamil whispered, releasing his grip on her. She did as she was told, though trembling slightly.

“You four worms will fall to your knees and bow to me, your master. Snake Whisper.” Yuu listened to the sultry tone of Jamil’s voice, cognizant of the sheer power his unique magic carried.

The sound of grunts and bodies hitting the floor echoed in the tall corridors, and Jamil turned around, practically crushing Yuu in a warm embrace. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“J-Jamil... I—“ Yuu silenced herself with a hiccup, wrapping her arms around Jamil’s bigger frame, who responded by running a hand through her hair gently, shushing her cries.

“Yuu, Jamil!” She looked over Jamil’s shoulder, seeing Kalim rushing towards her, Crowley following close behind. “Hey, are you okay?!” He demanded, placing a hand on her shoulder as she broke away from Jamil.

“N-Not really...” She was finally truthful, wiping away a new wave of tears.

“Excuse me. What happened here?” Crowley snapped, arms crossed as he glared through his mask.

“I believe I may know. Kalim, please take Yuu back to Scarabia, I’ll meet you there when I’m finished taking care of this.” Yuu cringed at the end, imgination running wild at the implications.

“Roger that. See you.” Kalim too seriously answered. He extended his hand to Yuu, who hesitantly shook her hear. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Kalim asked, red eyes brimmed with unnatural worry as they walked farther and farther from the four boys.

“My hands...” Yuu trailed off, revealing her burns for the first time that day. Kalim stopped, taking her wrists as opposed to her hands to avoid agitating the sensitive area. His skin felt smooth and cool, somewhat calming her heartbeat.

“Did they do this to you?”

“No, I did. It was an accident this morning.” Yuu explained quietly, keeping her head low.

“Hey,” Kalim said softly. He let go of her wrists, hooking a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “You’re safe now. Come on, let’s get those burns healed.”

“Alright...”

<————>

Snuggling into the plush pillows at her back, Yuu sipped from her tea in the Scarabia lounge, lit by a few unscented candles, courtesy of Kalim.

It was a sweet, minty flavor that warmed her core, tears dried for the time being as she drank, wincing every so often at the enhanced sting in her palms.

“Can I see your hands, Yuu?” Kalim asked, sitting on his knees before her, a small container of something placed gingerly on the floor.

“Sure,” she nodded, setting her cup down as she exposed them to him. She sucked in a breath, they looked so much worse than that morning. Candy red and splotchy, it was inevitable that they’d crack and blister eventually.

Twisting open the cap, Yuu eyed the cloudy cream within, watching intently as Kalim dipped his fingers in, scooping out a little and smearing it on her palms, to which she smiled as the pain was relieved to some of extent. “Aloe vera. Jamil would always put it on my skin whenever I got burned.” Kalim revealed, grinning as he capped the container.

Yuu hummed, flexing her hands as Kalim watched, silently debating. “Yuu... how long have they been hurting you?” He said at last, fisting the floor.

“T-They... since before I met you.”

Kalim gasped. “What? Why didn’t you talk to me—or Jamil?! We would’ve helped you! We could’ve—“

“I didn’t want to seem weak!” Yuu shouted, silencing Kalim. “I wanted to show you I could handle myself... that I can be strong, like you guys! That I... that I...” She sniffled, using the back of her hands to block the tears that now threatened to fall.

“Oh, Yuu...” Kalim softened, scooting so close that their knees touched. He pried her arms away all too easily, threading his larger hands in the softness of her hair as his palms laid over her cheeks, wet with water. “I promise, I promise, I’d never see you like that. Never. It doesn’t matter if it’s daytime, noon, or night, always rely on me. I’m here, Jamil is here, and we care about you so, so much.”

At that, Yuu openly cried, grabbing onto his sleeves despite the fresh cream painted over her flesh. Kalim pressed his forehead to hers, using his thumbs to wipe away the glistening beads, hushing her sobs tenderly.

Kalim’s ears perked up as he heard approaching footsteps, looking over his shoulders to see Jamil, knuckles reddened as his glare morphed into a look of pity. Extending an arm, Kalim invited him over silently, to which he accepted.

Yuu’s eyes opened as she sensed someone kneel beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders like before. “They told me everything. I gave them what they deserved, and rest assured, each of thise imbeciles will be facing due punishment.” Jamil said, bruised knuckles a testimony.

“What if... What if they were right?” Yuu asked, voice cracking terribly.

“What?” The two asked in unison.

“All those things they called me... what if they were right? I really am just an incompetent waste, I should just go back to where I came from!” She wailed, Kalim and Jamil sharing beyond surprised gapes.

Kalim hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, unable to form coherent words. So Jamil did it for him. “Yuu, Yuu no. No, I can’t explain how wrong you are. Do you know how much you are loved in this school?” He asked, barely whispering.

“I... am?”

“Yes, of course you are! I’d miss you so much, everyone would!” Kalim admitted, looking to Jamil.

“But why? What do you see in... me?” Yuu continued doubtfully.

“Hm, well how about this for starters,” Jamil looked to Kalim, both of them sharing the same idea, “maybe because you’re funny, and can make me smile even when I’m frustrated.”

“Or because you’re kind, and always willing to lend a hand to someone that needs help,” Kalim followed, sliding a hand into Yuu’s.

“You’re gorgeous, like the sun, radiant and breathtaking.” Jamil ran a hand through a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear.

“And you’re happy, just a bundle of laughter and smiles! You go along with all my crazy ideas, and I have so much fun with you!” Kalim finished, booping Yuu’s nose and making her giggle.

“You’re perfect, Yuu. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says.” Jamil smiled so genuinely, eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re a perfect desert flower, impeccable and extraordinary.”

Yuu covered her mouth as a new kind of tear streamed down her face, ones that spoke her gratitude rather than her sorrow. She laughed, twinkly and unfiltered, throwing her arms around Jamil and Kalim, pulling them into a bone crushing hug.

She didn’t say anything, just locked them in her embrace as she laughed and laughed, mixing with the sounds of Kalim and Jamil’s.

Swathed in the mingling warmth of her two best friends, Yuu’s chest was feather light for the first time in a long while, every insult and wound forgotten thanks to the sincerity poured into the boys’ speech.

She believed things could get better. She had faith, and now had her friends to anchor that faith.

Yuu beamed, as beautiful as a desert flower.

Oh boy, I may have gone a little overboard with this.

This was a wonderful prompt, I had so much fun with it! Thanks to @sanata101 for my first request! I hope you enjoyed!!

Stay lovely!

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #kalim al asim #twst #mc/yuu #thanks for the ask!#dire crowley

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