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avaults · 2 months ago

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chapter one - welcome to society

from false pretense - a bridgerton!au starring suguru geto

pairing: suguru geto x female reader (zenin)

ch. summary: as daughter of the zenin household, your parents expect no less than perfection of you - their precious emerald! so what happens if the queen sees you; will she have the same perception of you? (3.8k)

content/warnings: bridgerton au, regency era au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, misogyny, bullying, jealousy, mentions of alcohol and explicit contents, mental health issues, death, academic themes, breaking society’s norms and expectations, geto is as prideful as ever, reader pretending to be someone else, both being a pain

author's gossip: bonjour, it's me - Anna! so the first chapter has finally arrived and I hope you like it. thank you very much for taking your time to read - please enjoy! special thanks to @fushitoru <3

Dearest gentle reader,

welcome to yet another season of family representatives entering into society. Alongside mamas making sure their daughters shimmer as brightly as a star, are young eligible men using the opportunity to check whose sparkle might fit themselves. Weeks, months and hours are spent on preparing these young women for their debut to society - all in hopes of impressing her majesty. Though whom may the queen deem worthy enough to take place among her most prized collection of jewelry and will therefore earn the title as this year’s most desired debutante; earning this season’s title as the most incomparable - the diamond of the season.

Upon society’s excitement on to whose daughter will bedazzle the crowd and especially the queen the most to make the final cut, are also rumors lingering as to whom may grace us with their decision to fully participate in the courting related events regarding public. But before we will dive into every mother’s most anticipated part of this very column, I shall inform you about whom many males and also the queen herself have set their sights on. There are two young women who are currently being favored not only for their looks, but also for their standings in society as well as their exquisite mannerisms proven in minor gatherings before. Both are of exceptional lineages. One being miss Iori, daughter of viscount Iori and the other one is in fact a close friend of hers; miss Zenin of the Zenin household. Bear with me as we pay attention to what future will hold spare for these two little birds.

Now onto the most important part for many - during most recent days it has come to my attention that whispers surrounding this season’s attendees have steadily increased in volume. So much so, that I could not do other but to investigate those myself for I can confirm wether it is of great value or impact to society. So now this very author can confirm with joy that none other than Suguru Geto, heir to duke Geto, is preparing to pay his full attention on finding himself a match. Will he succeed on the mirage market though? We certainly shall see as men of the Geto household are said to be rather demanding and expectant. So far every woman that has entered into this house’s rows excelled with not only a grande skillset in music and literature but also in holding proper conversations to entertain audience. Additionally these women were able to continuously display more than perfect knowledge of their ranks in society and value to their partner. Though sir Suguru Geto holds quite the reputation for being much too prideful, causing him to be rather distant and disregarding towards others - especially those lower in rank. Will this apply to the dames and debutantes as well? We certainly will be kept on edge for this forthcoming quest.

Yours truly - Lady Whistledown

A huff escapes your mother’s lips as she laid this weeks print aside on the surface of your vanity, taking one last judging look at your appearance. A certain expression begins to take place on her visage, indicating that she is not yet fully content with your attire. Intrigued, you gather your nerves in order to speak up properly: „Mama, I fear you are not content with my looks so how may I improve them to your liking? Dare I recommend some striking jewelry?“. Your mother pauses with examining you to contemplate said thoughts of yours. After a moment of thinking, she responds: „My dear, that is certainly a sparkling idea. But what pieces shall we choose upon? We must keep your attire a certain amount of interesting, yet without making your look overbearing.“. „I share those very thoughts . As of now I dare say I look rather plain and I am afraid that colorless or neutral jewelry may not do much on improving the simplicity of my looks, instead it might further the dullness of it.“. Mindlessly you rise from your seat to leave for the room inside the manor where all the prized jewelry is stored and cared for.

As you are strutting down the hallway leading to the room, you glance over your shoulder to see your mother following suit with a pleased smile gracing her lips. Though you love your mother dearly, you can not deny the frustration lingering deep within your stomach. All throughout your life, you were raised to obey and please you parents every wishes in order to prepare you for mirage - according to Zenin’s standard of values of course. A certain amount of pressure constantly being laid upon you. You shall not disappoint and dishonor this family’s name ever by making a fool out of yourself or others. You shall experience quite the education; enough to uphold a proper conversation and interest potential suitors, enough to entertain audience with your social skillset during gatherings - but never shall you receive too much education to form a mind of your own and cause commotion with it. Do not speak up and do not talk back. Especially to your elders.

Once your reach the desired spot, you bring yourself to break away from those constricting feelings and to focus on the task at hand. Finding the right piece of jewelry is hard, especially from such a vast collection as that of your family. Rows and rows of silvers or golds either covered in sapphires, rubies, pearls, diamonds or emeralds are in front of you. Thus making it hard to choose from, especially the emeralds which your family is known for. Fully engulfed in the sheer beauty by the gems, you do not notice the presence of your brother Naoya until he clears his throat, making it known that he is in the room with you. His disapproving stare is burning through your skin, leaving residuals deep within your bones. More than enough to leave you with chills regularly.

Shaking off those unsettling stares, you redirect your attention and soon enough decide on a pair of sapphire studded earrings to try on along with a matching necklace. Once you applied the jewelry you study the improved look in the mirror, just to hear Naoya’s typical disregarding scoff: „Dear sister, I do not interfere with your looks much for neither do I care or share some interest in, though if you might ask me you should refrain from using anything blueish. It seems blue dulls your complexion by far, letting you resemble that of a corpse’s.“. „Naoya Zenin, this is certainly no way to treat a woman, especially your sister!“. „I am only stating the obvious. I am not at fault for my sister being so sensitive to critique. I suggest you improve that trait of yours instead of focussing on some jewelry in an attempt to do so with your looks. After all you did not inherit this family’s genes much; you are hideous. Your skills I will not fur-„. „Naoya Zenin, you are to leave this room immediately as I no longer tolerate such disdainful behavior! If you dare to refuse my very command then you leave me no other choice but to talk to your father regarding your allowances. In fact I will have him cut them.“. „But mother-„. „Enough! Now take your leave.“. As Naoya takes off, you relax a little. Letting out a breath you absentmindedly withheld. Though, his words keep circling your mind the time you turn your attention back to the mirror. It seems you can not let go of this hurtful comment and form judgement of your own. Sadly you do see his point, which makes you even more frustrated.

Just then you hear your father calling out for you, signaling you that you do not have much more time left to make choices. Unfortunately this only adds to your level of stress, that build up in the recent hours. So without another thought left to spare you quickly put the sapphires back in their place: „Oh mommy, this will simply not do! I hate to admit it, but my brother is right. Blue does not favor my complexion and actually makes me look like living death. Additionally it seems I do not have enough time left to make the right decision in jewelry as father already called out for me. I am afraid I will be at fault for us not making it to the announcement in time.“. „My dear do not fret too much. Sadly we do have not more time left, but I am certain you will select the right set of accessories soon. Just close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, then let your heart choose.“. Those words of wisdom offered you some reassurance and without a doubt you follow suit. Breathe in - breathe deep - breathe out et voilà, your gaze lands on emerald embedded earrings with an equally decent necklace to pair with. You can feel your whole face sparkling up upon applying them, knowing you just made the perfectly right decision. The emerald’s color accentuates your features nicely and boost your complexion. An additional prospect is that it adds some touch of color to your otherwise very dull ensemble of all white fabrics. Your mother can not help but let out a squeal of pure joy as she takes your gleeful appearance in: „My precious girl, these pieces of jewelry suit you so well! They make this whole attire of yours complete - making you shimmer like a gem yourself. A positive aspect that comes along with it is that you subtly represent your family’s color with it as well. Like a true Zenin indeed. Your father will be very pleased by that. But now we shall leave or else we might really be late.“. Just then your father calls out for you yet again, this time though you can hear the slight agitation in voice. Your mother already hushes you out the room and down the stairs, where you meet your fathers expectant gaze. „I am sorry daddy, I just put a lot of effort into looking perfectly presentable and also representable. I guess it took up more time than I initially calculated it would. I will make sure to keep that in mind the next time we will prepare for an event.“ Your fathers stern visage softens at your words: „It is alright, we are still on time though I would have appreciated it if you responded to my calls instead of letting me believe it fell to death ears. I was getting worried for a moment. Other than that I see you managed well. So far I am very content with your looks and I see that you added our house’s color to it - makes me really happy.“. Besides him is your brother trying his best to keep the already forming disgust on his face at bay. Instead in an attempt to to mask it he clears his throat, drawing the attention: „As much as I hate to interrupt this conversation, I might remind you we shall take our leave or I fear we will not arrive in time.“ Silently agreeing you step to the carriage to take a seat for the ride ahead. The ride itself is not long and also not filled with much talking as everyone is lost in their own thoughts based on the anxiety and stress swirling the air.

Though the moment you enter the grounds of the palace your thoughts seem to falter and you are mesmerized by the palace’s beauty of architecture. This interest keeps your nerves at bay until you are pulled out from your daydreams by your mother, pulling you inside the preparation room for the presentation. Your father and Naoya have split from you two prior, to secure themselves a good spot in the audience. After all Naoya still has to find himself a wife. Preparations for the parade are fleeting, only tucks and tufts of feathers and fabrics are left to do. Otherwise the looks are already set. Every young woman in attendance is clad in white, though there are attempts to from each to draw attention with details; Either with the arrangement and amount of feathers, the distinct scents of perfumes applied or the ever so bedazzling jewelry the decided on. Scanning the room, your eyes land on a head of raven hair not too far away.seeing that as your opportunity to calm your steadily rising nerves by striking up a small conversation with your friend prior to the parade. „Viscountess Iori, Utahime! It is such a delight to see you two.“. Utahime spins around, a bright smile latched on her lips: „Madame Zenin, Y/n - I am relieved to see you. Stress is steadily consuming me. So much so that for a second I felt like I was on the verge of crying.“. „I see what you are talking about, I actually feel the same way about this event and everything regarding it. Though dare I might say, that your attire is really stunning today.“. „Thank you very much, it is really kind of you. But I may say so about your ensemble as well - truly shimmering. I fear you are greater completion than I expected.“. „Truth be told, it will be very exciting for us. But I worry we are not the only ones in competence unlike lady Whistledown has reported.“ Looking around the room she agrees: „You certainly are right, I can spot several who have diamond worthy potential.“ While approximately 15 young ladies are adding finishing touches in attempts to calm their nerves, only a handful of them stand out - at least to you; one woman in particular. A striking aura to fit her upright posture, clad in a dress tailored to favor her already slander shape. Sadly your observations are disturbed by to footmen ordering the guests into positions, announcing we will parade alphabetically. Unfortunately you are the last in line to present themselves, adding only further to the stress. You know that as time goes by, it will be harder for the queen to focus and therefore making it harder for her to decide, especially if there are several shining young ladies. So what if she has already made her choice by the time you step foot into the very hall. Your patience begins waning resulting in your posture lacking necessary tension, but your mother aside you is quick to notice and reminds you of it. After collecting yourself and fixing your posture, your name is being called - indicating for you to parade.

Once you are making your way down to the queen, you take chance to check for familiar faces. You even manage to spot your father and Naoya, some of your cousins, viscount Iori and even some dukes you have heard of, but there is someone among them who catches your eyes - one you have not seen or heard of before. Tall and lean with hair black as ink cascading down his shoulders and onto his chest. His raven hair framing his face, pulling focus on his striking features matching his even complexion. Eyes sharp and lips so soft adding to his extraordinary facial structure, one unlike any other you have seen before. As if god himself carved this very man out of marble. Simply heavenly. To your demise though he seems to notice your stare and averts his gaze somewhere into the audience, his eyes narrowing. His facial expression switching from discontent to boredom occasionally. Feeling the blush of embarrassment building on your chest, you redirect your own gaze ahead. Upon arriving in front of the queen, you present her your long practiced greeting. „My my, what do we have here? Please rise so I can take a better look.“. You follow the queens order wordlessly. „Th emeralds you wear are very dazzling. I must admit it suits you well - they are accentuating your beauty. And as I recall these emeralds equal your family’s colors, am I right?“. „Yes, your majesty.“. „Mhmm, very sparkling indeed…“. With these words you are dismissed along with the rest of society for the queen has to take a break in order to close her diamond wisely.

Seeing as your parents are pleased with your behavior, you excuse yourself to go fetch some fresh a air on the terrace. There you find Utahime and enjoy some catching up before deciding to head back inside. But you are interrupted by Naoya who stands in the entrance to the hall leading back to the ballroom, blocking you from entering. Your brother lets Utahime pass, telling her you two will follow soon after. But something is off; it is unlikely for your brother to meet you unless it is either in his favor or to torment you: „Do tell brother, what brings you outside?“. „Am i not allowed to catch a breath of fresh air myself before accompanying my dear sister back to the hall?“. „There is no problem with that, though it seems very unlike you for you to be so caring. So what do you want to tell me this time?“. „Well it is not something I want to tell you but rather something I want to question you about.“. „Alright go ahead so we can return as fast as possible, I am sure the queen will announce the diamond soon.“. „Well then, what happened during the parade?“. Taken aback, you respond confused: „I do not know what your speaking of? I paraded perfectly, no tripping or loss of balance.“. Naoya begins to circle you, mustering you: „Hard for me to admit, but you did. Though I did not meant that. What I want to know is what your relationship with him is?“. „What do you mean? Which relationship? With whom?“. Naoya stops in front of you, taking a step closer to you: „Do not play dumb. I am speaking of Suguru Geto!“. „I swear I do not know whom you are talking about. I have not heard of a so called `Suguru Geto´ except in lady Whistledown’s article, I do not even know what he looks like.“. „Oh sister, this will not do so let me rephrase my question. The raven haired man I saw you staring at earlier - what is your relation to him?“. You scoff at his ridiculousness, deciding it is enough you make way for the hallway. „I am tired of this nonsense so I will return on my own.“. Stepping in, Naoya threatens you: „You will not or else I will share my suspicions with the rest of the family and ruin your very being like no-one else will. So tell me, are you involved in an affair with this man?“. „No, i am not involved with this man or anyone. I would not ever dare to even think about adultery. Are you content now?“. „No, no, no… then why was there a bush all over you? This usually only happens when two parties engaged in improper activities before…“. „Or this happens out of embarrassment. Embarrassment of him catching me staring.“. „But that is exactly what I was talking about? If you keep avoiding me, then I am afraid you leave me no there choice but to walk up to-„.

Luckily your father disrupts the two of you tough upon seeing the anger splashed across his face, you consider yourself not so lucky anymore: „Young lady just what do you think you are doing here? Catching some fresh air? Or rather having a chat with your brother? Whatever it is ends now and so does your reckless behavior. Just this morning I thought you will not cause commotion for once, but I was disappointed yet again. You missed the announcement - missed the chance of becoming the diamond and making up for all your missteps along the way. This will have consequences; for the both of you! Naoya you should only fetch her so why did I end up doing it myself instead?“. Naoya is the first to speak up: „I am sorry father, but she just threw a fit and got me involved into this. I am innocent, I swear!“. „Spare all your excuses for later, when we will discuss this thoroughly. Now let us return to the hall and fetch your mother. She already took over and congratulated the diamond in our name.“. Leaving you no option, he drags you down the hall way and into the ballroom to fetch your mother rather quickly before scurrying off into the carriage. The carriage ride home is filled with your father’s rage on what happened at the announcement. Your mother sits in silence besides him, disappointment all across her face and it does not seem to leave until hours later. Once your father finished with scolding you and your brother, you apologize thoroughly without trying to explain yourself as it will not change the situation for the better. Instead it will only worsen it, potentially earning you more punishment. When nothing else is left to say, your mother rises from her seat and takes word: „Although it was quite disappointing you were not elected as diamond of the season for obvious reasons, this situation does have it’s positive aspects. While I was engaging in conversations earlier, in the over heard people’s whispers about you. It seems that you have received the title of ´the emerald of the season´ from society. Many were mesmerized by you, at least that is what I heard duke Nanami say.“. Your fathers sour expression lifts to one a little lighter: „Well if that is not a pleasant surprise. So then you may get ready for we have to present the emerald at duke Gojo’s ball.“. With that you are dismissed from this family’s gathering, allowing you to get ready for the masquerade ball ahead. Though this time everything ran quicker and more smoothly.

So you find yourself in the carriage once more, this time though on your way to the Gojo estate. The ride itself is not as suffocating as the one before, letting you relax a little for all the dancing that will happen soon enough. Several minutes later you find yourself switching between conversations and dances with potential suitors. But not one who catches your eyes in sight, much to your disappointment. Otherwise everything is well; no man causes some sort of commotion by misbehavior and no one is making you uncomfortable. So far a good start into festivities. Engaging in social activities like this one does tire you out, you need to admit. So in order to clear your mind a bit and regain some energy, you decide to take a quick stroll around the hallways of the estate. You are aware that this behavior is not accepted in society but no one is there to catch or judge you because they are in fact all present inside the ballroom. So when you see a pair of doors ajar, you pay no mind and enter quickly. Inside your met with shelves full of books. And before you can skim through some, you light a few candles to be able to read. What you do not see though is someone slipping inside behind you, keeping watchful gaze on your every move.

a/n: publishing the first chapter has been a wild ride y'all - from my laptop not allowing me to copy and paste to tumblr being a lil' bitch about the format of the text. i had like seven mental breakdowns until I could finally publish lol 🥹 - but @fushitoru was there to save my ass. thank you looks - I appreciate you looking out for me🫶🏻. now on to the other matter; I added a taglist. so if you want to be added please notify or message me - don't be shy 😌

taglist: @tiramisuandlove @gojouology @not-ur-average-fangirl /taglist is open!

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blakeblueboi · 1 year ago

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Happy (Late) Valentine's Day!!!

Draco: Potter, we agreed no gifts- Harry: I know! I know, I just- Harry: I know we said no gifts, Draco- but I was thinking about this past year and- and well, I never thought that we'd be well- we'd be- Harry: Us- you know? I know we just started seeing eachother and it's new, like you said, but isn't that reason enough? Harry: Reason enough to celebrate that it is so new? Harry: Before this year I thought that wasn't remotely a chance for us- I see now that I was wrong Harry: I was so wrong about so many things- and I hope that can at least- Harry: Make yo for that- even if it as last week that you even let me start using your first name and - -Inaudiable Harry- esque rambling- Draco: Do you ever shut up? Harry: Wha- mmph!!

The corridor rang with newfound silence as Potter's voice was abruptly swallowed in the matter of a second. Draco's ears were so unused to the lack of incessant rambling that they became muffled in shock.

The kiss, in the loosest sense of the definition, only lasted a few moments before Draco leaned back away from Potter's slightly parted ones he had seized midsentence. His grip on his tie only tightened however as Draco fixed the gaping Gryffindor with a hard glare.

Or at least he tried to. The look in Potter's eyes stole away any sort of insult or rebuttal from Draco's throat.

Stormy grey met electric green and in an instant Draco realized his mistake.

That had been their first kiss.

Their first kiss.

Draco had only wanted to shut the blubbering git and not only had he kissed Potter for the first time-- on Valentine's day no doubt-- but in the middle of the 7th floor corridor. Potter had dragged him up there without explanation, now obviously for gift giving but it was no less a public space.

Draco could feel eyes on him at all sides, from all directions even if he couldn't see or discern who exactly was there watching them.

Heat crawled up Draco's face like a creeping Acromanchula complete with pinprick of little fangs over his cheeks and down his neck. He was no better than a beet red third year as he stood there under with still silently shocked Potter's everlasting gaze. A gaze that under normal circumstances he would have preened under.

Draco's body acted on its own. With a flourish of quick and familiar magic his body bent and shifted until his pink paws plopped onto the cold cobblestone floor. With a scramble Draco bolted from the hallway, luckily with the pretty red ribbon that was wrapped around the box secured in his teeth.

The sound of Potter's voice calling after him fell on deaf ears as Draco's let his swift feline body carry him as far away as possible. As quickly as possible.

"Do you think he'll wear it?"

Harry had been a mess. So much so that he would rather take a hundred Bat Boogy hexes from Ginny back in fifth year than be in the predicament he was in at the moment.

"Harry, mate, you're starting to sound like a second year--" Ron told him indignantly from beside him with a clean chicken leg in his fist.

"Ron, I don't think you're helping--" Hermione scolded him from her spot across from them over her N.E.W.T.S level charms textbook and a half eaten dollop of strawberry pudding.

"No offense, but we are talking about Malfoy- the git is probably trying to decide which bedazzled silver trash can he's going to chunk it in- OW!!" Hermione swatted Ron over the head with her new closed charms textbook.

"Ronald, honestly you could at least try to be a little supportive for your best friend! You're making it worse!!" She hissed with a hard glare across the table at her boyfriend.

It was, indeed, making Harry's mood that much worse. He hadn't seen Draco all day since he gave him his Valentine's gift and he was starting to really believe he had botched their entire relationship. It wasn't enough that he had gotten Draco a gift when Draco had specifically told him that they were absolutely not getting each other gifts on what he described as a pathetic excuse for a holiday, but he'd gotten him something that was most definitely going to make it that much worse.

A glance over at the Slytherin table only threw his mood into the gutter when he saw Draco's usual spot empty. It wasn't like he couldn't have run after him that morning. He definitely could have. Especially in his larger, nimbler animgus form. But the thought only dug up memories of sixth year and a certain third floor bathroom. Even if the confrontation wouldn't have gone exactly like that now of course, it still kept Harry rooted to the cobblestones as he watched the white cat sprint away.

The loud swing of the Great Hall's massive doors didn't even rouse Harry to look up. He'd fallen for that trick too many times this evening to know that he wouldn't see a shock of white-blonde hair and pretty stormy grey eyes enter through it.

"Harry--" Hermione's voice whispered to him from across the table.

Harry hardly heard her over the uproar from the Slytherin table. Namely around a certain now occupied spot behind him.

"Bloody hell, Harry- did you really get that slimy git that? That must have cost a fortune!"

Ron'd words were drowned out by the sight of Draco Malfoy proudly, practically glowing with a self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face. His eyes twinkled with the light of the ever-burning candles above them and the pink glitter below that decorated every house table. His cheeks were a soft pink as Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all gawked at him.

Or namely at what was clasped around his neck.

A silver necklace was visible above his tie and glittered in the light. It was made up of dazzling white and clear gemstones that shone various colors depending on the wearer's mood and the light around them like a prism. It was absolutely stunning, especially with the pink and rose red they were emitting onto Draco's perfectly pale skin. Harry had enlisted Hermione's help with making sure that the necklace would expand and shrink whenever Draco was in either of his forms.

Aside from what it was made out of-- it was truly a necklace but the length of it could have made it something else entirely.

That something else being a collar.

Stormy grey finally met Harry's green across the table and Draco's cheeks flamed with an instant and uncontrollable blush. A small smile was exchanged between them and words that went unsaid passed through their gazes.

Harry turned and that smile grew into a big grin despite a groan from Ron and another swat of her book on his head from Hermione.

Maybe Harry hadn't mucked things up that badly that Valentine's Day.

Fin.

WOw this took way longer than I thought it would lol

#drarry #draco x harry #harry x draco #Harry potter #harry potter fanart #cat animagus harry #cat animagus draco #animagus #animagi #valentines day #draco malfoy #fancomic #microfic #my art #my writing

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haveihitanerve · 11 months ago

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I have this head cannon that when Bruce finally passes, no one plans his funeral. They just act like he’s still alive, that he’ll come back. Like last time. Clark leaves out a warm meal for him on his balcony every night, Diana leaves the radio playing to his favorite station and always has an extra batarang on her for emergencies when he runs out. Selina makes sure the blankets are fluffy the way he likes it. The kids all talk to him through their own separate coms and pretend he talks back. Dick leaves his door unlocked and visits Gotham more than he should. Robin goes on patrol alone but always leaves room for Bruce to run. Tim talks to Bruce when he inputs information and plays voice recordings of Bruce saying he’s proud of him. Jason cusses less, but when he does he always waits a beat, like waiting for someone to scold him. Steph and Cass give each other makeovers and act like the other is Bruce, letting them bedazzle him the way they always did. Until a year passes and he still hasn’t returned. And then they cry. They scream and cry and yell at the sky the gods cursing whatever stole their father and lover and best friend away from them.

#batfam #batkids #batfamily #batman headcanon

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

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It happened. Let's talk about it under the fucking cut.

Hello! I am here to regale you with the tale of how my Saturday at Fan Expo went! So it started with how I could not fucking sleep the night before. Fitful, I kept waking up over and over and finally got out of bed before nine. I hung around for a while, did a face mask, painted my nails, showered, got ready and into my fit for the day. We departed slightly after noon and grabbed some food and made our way to Toronto. We get there and park in the usual place and make the couple block hike to the convention centre, the check in process went smoothly and then, it was time to shop around.

We went from the North building to the South building, much more interested in checking out niche’ vendors and artists’ alley, I was in there for less than an hour before I had to break away to run to the photo op. Mr.Bex gives me a kiss on the cheek and told me, “Try not to cum in front of them.”

“Easier said than done!” I called as I run off. Now, last year it took me forever to get back to the North building, so I left with an hour before my time I had to be there. On the way, I see a Ghostface in a very cute almost magical girl outfit, short flouncy skirt and a bedazzled pink mask. I am looking at them, they see me looking, and they give me a pose and a peace sign, I grin and give one back, a super fun moment. I get to the North building and the photo op space in less than twenty minutes. So that means I get to toddle around the dealers floor. I do so, take in some cosplays, contemplate some purchases, they had an old full sized classic Scream one poster for twenty bucks, but I passed on it.

Finally, it’s time to go get into the actual line. I’m in line 13, in the first group for the Matt and Skeet time slot, and I made like six friends while in line. Everyone was very into my outfit, one girl had a tattoo on her arm that said, “My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me.” We were all losing it. Another girl was there with her partner and she was in a 600 dollar custom fitted movie accurate Ghostface costume, with the glitter fabric and all, it was shockingly impressive. She especially liked my shirt and was impressed by the fact I made it, and asked aloud, “Why don’t they make shirts like those and sell them?” I laughed and told her, “Well, I’ve considered it, I won’t lie.”

It is a surreal experience listening to this assortment of hot gothy early twenty-something scream fans, many who came from whole provinces away just for this, just to be here for them, talking about how hot they are and how down bad they are while I stand next to them, having written a couple of hundred thousand words about the characters they love in question. I almost told em I wrote fic, almost.

While waiting around, Matt ended up coming out into the line-up space?! There was a fan in a wheelchair, and he wheeled em back personally while chatting them up and giving high-fives, he was five feet from me. The photo op starts late, I don’t care, it’s fine. We scan tickets, drop bags and then are in the same curtained off space as them, they let in small groups at a time to keep it moving smoothly. My heart is fucking pounding. We make it back, there was a family in front of me, their middle kid was dressed as Ghostface and their baby was in a scooby doo onesie and Matt held him for the picture, so cute.

Our especially extra Ghostface friend from the line was right in front of me, and then it’s my turn. I make sure my extra shirt is pulled to the side, Two Boys Are Better Than One proudly displayed, and I move. I greet them with a “Hi!”

Skeet gave me a very cool sounding “Hey” and Matthew made eye contact with me and gave me a polite nod with a, “Hello.” That I can only say was said in a very him way.

I asked, as I was moving in, “Can I be in the middle?”

And Matt had this expression with that sort of half smile he does, brows pinched together as he nods, telling me like it should be obvious, “Oh of course.”

I get in between them, and Matt’s hand is on my shoulder, Skeet’s hand is on my lower back and my hand is on Matt’s lower back and my other hand holding onto Skeet’s side (and fucks sake he is firm.)

I got an extra second because the photographer directed me to lower my head, so I wouldn’t get glasses glare, I assume. I revel in the extra seconds and contact, the picture is snapped, and I break away, without thinking I sort of pat Skeet’s side, and he returns the gesture and tells me, “Good job.”

Skeet fucking Ulrich told me good job.

Bury me now. I am done for.

I get my bag, I get my picture, I get it framed, and I go find Mr.Bex. He and I leave the con, we get back to our car, and then go to a tattoo shop where my friend Mel gave me my You Might Be The Killer tattoo. We drove home, I slammed several slices of pizza, and now I am writing this for you!

It was. Fucking amazing, I loved it so much, it was more than worth every penny. Now I can officially say, I am That Cunt that wore a shirt baring my super pornographic smut fic’s title on my tits while getting a picture with the two guys who inspired it all.

And speaking of inspiration, just you wait to see the fic I am going to write after this.

#TBABTO #Two Boys Are Better Than One #FOR LIFE #BHF face #I had SUCH a good day #FUCK #I AM SO DEAD

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dreaaspeaks · 1 year ago

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How Tokio Hotel members would be in Hogwarts

idk why no one has thought of this but thanks to my irl, this idea has been rotting away at my brain (these ain't my gifs ya'll)

Bill Kaulitz

I know some people might disagree but Bill is a Slytherin, HEAR ME OUT

he is ambitious, cunning and highly persuasive

He is definitely one of those students that no one really knows why at face value why he got into his house

People presume, if he isn't in uniform, that he is a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw

He takes his passions and ambitions very seriously and is willing to overwork both himself and sometimes unintentionally, the people around him to reach his goals

I feel like he hates potions and transfiguration but loves more easy going subjects like Care for Magical Creatures and Divination

He probably likes the idea of Defence Against the Dark Arts but hates the amount of essays required

Bill took Astronomy because it looked and sounded cool but after he saw the graph paper on his table during the first lesson, he has been trying to drop it ever since

No one believes that him and Tom are related let alone twins, people just thought that their last names were a coincidence

Very personable so I think he would be quite popular amongst students but his dislike for too much authority doesn't make him too popular amongst professors teaching subjects he doesn't like

Professors teaching subjects he is passionate about however, LOVE HIM

always doing random extra studies just because he wanted to and for extra credit

The type to not study and fail for subjects he hates

But will still pass even if he didn't study when it comes to subjects he likes

Likes to watch Quidditch matches to support his friends but will rather die than get on a broom

Barely passed Flying in first year

Is that one friends that knows everything about everyone in Slytherin and surprisingly, Hufflepuff (why? even he's not sure)

Has gotten so many detentions because of going against dress code

He bedazzled his robe and tie with fabric pens, bleach and rhinestones and never changed them back no matter how many warnings he got

He got asked to the yule ball by a Beaubatoux boy and istg Bill laughed at first thinking it was a joke

When he realised the guy was fr he said he would think about it and get back to him

He literally put off thinking about it until Tom and Georg sat him down to talk about it so he could finally make a decision

Bill said yes to the date literally three days before the ball but mumbled it so fast and left so fast that Gustav had to repeat what Bill said to the boy

Tom Kaulitz

Tom would be a Gryffindor.

Do I need to elaborate?

okay I probably should

He is less outwardly warm compared to Bill but he is more reliable

Tom is a loyal mf especially when it comes to his friends

However, he is in Gryffindor because he is very much willing to take a leap of faith

He is impulsive when it comes to a lot of things especially when it comes to school life

Went to Quidditch tryouts during second year as a dare from Georg and Bill with neither expecting him to do well

Bitch came out of tryouts with a Quidditch uniform and an inflated ego

Plays chaser for Quidditch team, pretty good player and uses Quidditch practice as an excuse to put off every other subject

"Why isn't the essay finished? It was due three days ago"

"Quidditch practice..."

that convo happened on the last week of school and he fully thought the Professor would buy it

To say he sucks at Potions is an understatement

When he found out he could drop potions in 6th year he ran a lap around the Gryffindor common room

He goes to every house party and gets absolutely smashed

SO.MANY.RUMORS

He is surrounded by rumors, literally unless they are in his inner circle, no one really knows what is true or fake when it comes to Tom

People think he is some mean asshole that pushes people away from Bill but in reality he is just protective when it comes to who Bill mixes with since Bill is in Slytherin

Plays the student population's need to drama well so he is a traditionally popular type of guy

At some point he ends up ACTUALLY liking a girl and everyone doesn't recognise him, like he is stumbling over himself and begging to do projects for just a slight chance to do the project with her

Starts to show off more during Quidditch games like tries to do tricks

almost falls off his broom but he will deny it and swear to Merlin that he meant to slip off the broom

Georg Listing

he is a Ravenclaw you cannot change my mind

He isn't like the nerdy super studious type of Ravenclaw (but really is any Raven though?)

He is the seven cups of coffee in the morning, two hours of sleep a night and getting constantly distracted by small side topics when studying type of Ravenclaw

off topic but I think he would be a muggle born who just adjusted really quickly to wizard life??

He would be into Defence Against the Dark Arts and charms like the hands on subjects mixed with essays

He HATES herbology, he could never keep the plants alive no matter how hard he tried

No one thinks he studies like everyone writes him off as the guy who didn't study because he doesn't do homework but he does really well in tests

Horrible credit

Great grades

Georg doesn't really speak up in class unless necessary and I see him falling asleep during Astronomy class

Like when his voice dropped after puberty people didn't even realise it was him talking because he talked so little in class

OUTSIDE OF CLASS HOWEVER

he parties just as much as Tom but stays more sober just incase they come across Professors

Georg plays Beater for Ravenclaw after he was asked to go to tryouts

When Tom and Georg are on the field together it is a bloodbath, Georg targets Tom and only Tom

One of those lowkey popular students, think Cedric Diggory

always helping the guys study and convincing them to at least study a bit

He isn't a sought after guy as a tutor but will accept to help anyone if asked

Kinda scary looking and isn't as open as Bill nor as big a party animal as Tom so he isn't approached very often by younger students tbh kinda feared for no reason, Gustav makes fun of him about it a lot

When it comes to dating at Hogs he is very straightforward, think how Fred asked Angelina

Romantic enough for it to be endearing but not too much for it to be creepy to a random cute girl yk?

Is definitely a Quidditch player boyfriend if you get where I'm going like will make the girl wear his jersey at his game and would magically become a better player after getting into a r/s

Gustav Schafer

I know people will argue that he is a Hufflepuff but like bffr have you actually seen how he acts on Tokio Hotel TV??

Gustav would be a Gryffindor

He would be a Gryffindor in like a Dean Thomas kinda way

If Tom was Cormac, Gustav would be Dean

Becomes besties with the House Elves during first year because he got lost on the way to potions

Never went to Bill's dorm because he is scared shitless of the Black Lake and that damn squid

the muggle born that never got used to magic

Like he would be sorting out his trunk or cleaning his house and halfway through he remembers he went to fucking magic school for 7 years

BIG Quidditch fan

Paints his face and has merch like the whole nine yards

If Tom misses ONE shot during a game, he would not hear the end of it from Gustav for like a month

Refuses to use a quill

Will straight up in front of a Professor use a pen

He would not get an owl, Georg talks so much shit about it because they can't write to each other the 'aesthetic' way

Gustav just gives people his email/number

Naturally with that he isn't the best in DADA or Transfigurations but he would be good in Herbology and Arithmancy

Throws Tom under the bus SO OFTEN

That's why everyone thinks he is so sweet and innocent, he would push Tom into the way of a Professor on the way back to the common room from a party

Sends Howlers to his friends as pranks

He doesn't know he's popular but he is popular and gets so many confessions every day but just shrugs them off

Like the confession letter could be from the hottest girl in their year and he would go

"Awe that's sweet"

AND MOVE ON

He is a sweetheart so he will ask a close friend to the Ball if he isn't interested in anyone

Even if he isn't interested in a romantic way he will still make it very cute and sweet to make his date feel special

If he is asking a girl on a actual date he would bring her to HoneyDukes and insist to pay for all her sweets

That's his big move, the HoneyDukes date (It's his thing)

(anyways so this is the first post of miiiine kinda long ngl)

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #georg listing #georg listing x reader #georg listing imagines #gustav schäfer #gustav schafer x reader #early 2000s #fanfic #harry potter au

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sorrowmoons · 16 days ago

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Dakota is just going crazy (Idk what to tittle this BAHA)

Not proofread, just a quick Drabble for Circus Inferno Au

Tw- slight OC x canon, but their dynamic is rocky so yuhhh yenawww please don’t take this seriously because it’s not really canon for the Au

Heels against pavement echo through the Ring, each step matching the rhythm of the music. After years of working for this circus, she never grown bored of it. Her recent years as the ringleader proved to be her highlights. As she grows older, the more technique and skills she gains.

Her costumes become more.. outgoing. Furs, jewels, fancy trinkets. Each more bedazzling than the last. She had one main one—her most popular and classical. But during special events.. she brings out the best ones to match their very special guests who come to watch.

This show was no normal circus. It was far more.. ravenous. Beautiful and elegant. Desire filled and filled with mystery.

There was no crying kids to be heard, the lights far less mind-achingly bright and the atmosphere filled with delicious tension. The tent filled with scents of sweet and spice. It was delicately designed to the lords liking, and the special guests.

The Ringleader walked into the middle of the stage, holding her cane in the air. She motioned her hand to the finished singing duet. It was the “Song of Deceit” performance. It was Pokothos favourite.

“My, my! Well, I might’ve just shed a tear back there, wooff!!” She joked, as always, mumbling the last part.

“Such lovely voices, don’t you agree?” She nudged the singer closest to her, the guy grinned.

“Let’s wrap this up with out very special performance, hm? Please help me welcome the lovely…”

The performance went on, the final act taking place. This act was special to their very special guest sitting up in the guest booth. Dakota could practically feel her hungry eyes watching the performance.

Eldritches, gods and monsters are invited to watch these spectacular shows, invited by the lords themselves. While the lords want as much as they can get, why not share it with their fellow beasts? After all, it keeps their loyalty with the others in tact.. offer a share of their entertainment and food, and in return, the lords get loyalty.

After all, there’s no better place than to get full here, in the circus. Monsters and gods left here happy and full. But if they fail to share their part of the deal, the lords have more then enough power to make that monsters life a living hell. They have connections. Powerful ones at that.

That is exactly who this guest was. One of the more.. powerful ones. She was a beast, strong and feared. But she too had desires needing to be filled. And Dakota would always do her absolute best to fulfil those desires. Always to fulfil her own lords desires, of course.

But unlike most performances, Dakota would be assigned a.. role, if you would even call it that. She stayed on stage, grinning her mischievous grin as she watched the male dancer, feminine in looks and attire, strut up to her. The other backup singers and dancers hummed a tune, their eyes watching the scene unfold. The audience quieted, still in the aftermath effects of the feasting. The lords should be full, now greedily watching the show.

The male performer came face to face with Dakota, his hands caressing her body. Dakota brought up her free hand, fanning her face dramatically. She continued her playful, cocky act of grinning playfulness. The male sung a teasing song, Dakota the role of a ruler, and the man a seductive servant.

The physical aspects only went so far as to caress her chest. But Dakota didn’t mind. She had a little unserious crush on the performer guy. But she also didn’t mind the fact that the lords watched this. Watched as her body was touched, an intoxicating scene by two beautiful performers. She grinned, looking up to the booths, eyeing each one of them. She then darkened her gaze as she looked up to the guest booth. Her eyes sparkling with mischief.

But, alas, this was all a performance. An act to please the watchers. The act went on when Dakota ran off stage with the male performer, signalling their end of the act. She laughed and teased at the guy, but he giggled along with her. She was practically friends with everyone here, expect the few who didn’t like her powerful role. But Dakota could care less.

Eventually, as Dakota watched backstage at her signature spot, she closed her eyes as the crowd roared in applause. She knew it would be soon thay the crowd would start coming back to their conscience. It was a liberating feeling. The madness of it all—but, as the years went on, she became more understanding of the lords and what they do. She came to this circus unknowing and bug-eyed innocent—but now? Shes sure grown. More mature in the acceptance of death. She blocked it out by the life of the circus. What it brought her and what it saved her from. The the lords saved her from.

She bit her lip, bringing her hand to clasp the side of her face. Oh.. what they did to her. They grew her to be a mischievous devil to madness. A jester to their acts. The puppeteer to their food. But.. did she mind it? In the beginning, maybe. But, being wronged by the people she was wronged by—she felt the sickening delight that she knows those people are the ones being eaten. The ones who are corrupted by devious thoughts and feelings.

A voice echoed through her mind—one not of her own.

“It’s your cue, my dear.”

She blushed, realizing she was late to her que on stage. But.. not late enough for others to realize. She grabbed her cane, popping out of the curtains. The lights shone down on her, the crowd growing louder at her entrance.

“And that dearies is the wonders of the circus!” She banged her cane to the floor as she hopped onto her small platform in the middle. “Wasn’t that a spectacular show, no? Cmon, I can’t hear you!” She egged on the crowd, people practically screaming.

She chuckled, her hands motioning to lower down a little. “Okay, okay. Not that loud.” She grinned.

“But, please, we appreciate you all being here tonight. What a delight it is to bring our most treasured show to you! You may not realize it… but you have been one delicious audience by far.”

The crowd couldn’t care less to understand what she meant by that. They roared on, clueless to the full bellies of the beasts.

The people have left, and the clean-up to the circus was almost over. Dakota helped some workers move stage-sets off and into storage. Performers crowded the vanities as they talked amongst themselves, taking their faces of elegant makeup off. Dakota smiled at each worker she passed. Finger gunning them or simply nodding her head.

Younger Dakota would have been running to the lords booths after each performance.. but she doesn’t anymore. She takes her time to help around the circus, letting the lords come to her if they wanted too. But she’s been less… suffocating. Well—she tries too. Shes taken her Ringleader role a lot more seriously. And that means aiding her fellow humans.

She was currently walking on the empty stage, appearing a lot more bigger without the workers and props. The crowd non-existent anymore in the vast section of seats. The lords are probably bidding their special guest farewell.

She could never get over the rush she gets when the audience applauses. The feeling she gets knowing she pleased the lords. It was her part of the deal. Make a good show, appease both the audience and the lords. That, she could do. She smiled to herself.

With a sigh, she was about to turn back, towards the exit or the stage—before a tingling breath touched her skin.

She squealed slightly, jumping at the unknown feeling. But reassuring hands find her waist. The now familiar smell of the person standing very close behind her engulfed her senses. She eased very quickly.

“Hey, wiggs..!” She laughed nervously, intimidated by the contact. Her heart raced.. woah. Wiggog never really got this close. She tried to ingrain this into her mind. Boy was this daydreaming worthy.

His face nudged into the crook of Dakotas neck, resting there. His body flushed up against hers.

“What a mighty show, my dear.” He mumbled, his voice lacking emotion. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. She didn’t mind. She leaned her back into him.

“Thanks, boss! I, uh—hope the guest was pleased, too.” She hummed, her words almost catching in the back of her throat.

A deep “hmm” came from Wiggog, his hands now grasping her arms, almsot acting as a hug.

“She was more than just pleased, I can say that.”

Dakotas thoughts filled with joy, forgetting how close the man she had the biggest crush on leaned into her. The big ego boost she received as she thought on the large beastly lady being happy. She giggled, but tensed as lips found her neck. She was quiet, not daring to interrupt this rare moment of embrace from Wiggog. Her mouth parted slightly, not sure what to say.

Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest—and it seemed Wiggog noticed it too. Ugh, of course he would.

“Slow that heart of yours, dear. Wouldn’t want you dying on us now.” He backed away from his contact on her, but spun her in the process. She looked to him, wide-eyed. She hummed, a little broken and trembling.

“A-uhm. Yeah, yes. Sure—sorry.” She looked away, face hot red. Wiggog stared down at her, his eyes calculating and sharp.

“I’m pleased with you, Dakota. Continue to keep me that way.” Dakota nodded, her eyes too shy to make up where to look. “Y-yeah, sir. Of course.” He smiled slightly. “Good. Oh—and, the others are eagerly awaiting for an appearance of you. Don’t keep them waiting.”

And with that, Wiggog disappeared into the shadows. Dakota stood there, stunned. She fought the urge to scream, hurriedly rushing to her private counters. She made it to her own special room, closing the door and leaning against it.

“What the fuck?!”

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wickedsrest-rp · 6 months ago

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Name: Rosemary Kane Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Receptionist at Mother Morta's Nursing Home Age: 36 Years Old Played By: Grace Face Claim: Margot Robbie

"Let them underestimate me- I’ll look hotter than them while I’m surpassing them."

TW: Parental death, misogyny

For twelve generations, the secrets of necromancy were passed down to the eldest sons of the Kane line. A portrait of the first in the family line, Cornelius Kane, had loomed over the mantel in Rosemary’s childhood home. She could remember her youth spent staring up into the face of a long since dead relation, and the torrent of emotions that came with it. Pride, that her family had mastered the most complicated arcane practices, and had gained mastery over death itself in the years since Cornelius had began his endeavor to conquer mortality. Sorrow, that she was, as all her relatives reminded her, the disappointing end to a dynasty.

Rosemary Kane was the only daughter of the last living son of the Kane name. Years passed and still there were no heirs to the Kane line. Despite the fact, the family was happy enough. After all, there was always the hope that little Rosie could have a little brother one day. Of course, no one had ever dreamed a threat as trivial as a vampire would kill a member of the Kane family, much less turn one. No one ever spoke about that night, and Rosemary had been far too young to remember much of it. But she did remember one night, her father had sent her crying mother off with a strange man, and her mother simply never returned. The truth of her turned mother’s disappearance after leaving with who, years later, she would determine to be a vampire slayer was never explicitly told to her- ladies and their sensitivities seemed to be the excuse not to rehash it. But the death of her mother seemed to be the death of hope for the Kane family’s future.

Unfortunately for Rosemary’s father, and therefore there would be no heir to keep the family tradition, the girl was all but ignored by her family. Rosemary never spoke it aloud but the older she got, the more she hoped that maybe, just maybe, her father would make an exception and teach her. But no matter how hard she tried to ingratiate her father to her, the man simply dismissed her. Upon graduating college, she told her father of her desire to learn- to carry on the family tradition. It didn’t need to die with her- times had changed, and she was just as determined and capable as any son of his would have been.

She could recall the deafening silence of the moments after she declared her intentions. The crackle of the fire in the hearth, the bitter winter wind screaming outside, and all the while the portrait or Cornelius Kane loomed over her like a foreboding specter.

It shouldn’t have surprised her to hear no. It shouldn’t have hurt. She’d known her whole life her father was unwilling to compromise for the sake of his own family. So she left her family’s Connecticut home in search of instruction elsewhere.

To add insult to injury, it was very difficult to find someone to teach her, due to the fact that necromancy was heavily frowned upon in most polite arcane circles. After several years of scrounging what little information she could, she got a name, and place. Aleksander Nowak in Wicked’s Rest, Maine.

It took a lot of begging and transparency, but at long last, the man agreed to train her. Since then, she’s worked tirelessly to learn as much as she could, if not to prove to the Kane’s that she was more than capable of carrying on the family legacy, then to herself.

Character Facts:

Personality: Clever, charismatic, perseverant, sociable, tenacious, prideful, impulsive, vain, willful, unethical

She’s a sucker for a good karaoke night. The second Rosemary found out about The Siren’s Song, she became a frequent customer. She’s there at least once every other week.

Her car has a bedazzled license plate frame.

She was the social chair of her university’s chapter of the Delta Psi sorority. While she didn’t attend UMWR, as an alum she’s been known to pop up at philanthropic events to pitch in. She’s also great at party planning due to this experience.

She almost always has her pink, sticker covered e-reader with her. On her days off, she can often be found cozied up in the corner of A Latte to Love with a dirty chai latte with caramel drizzle and a romance novel.

She lives in a cute little cottage in Oldtown. The crocus lawn, flower garden, and stained glass windows make up for the ghost roommate that enjoys screwing with her electronics at all hours of the night. As a result, she’s fairly nocturnal, and can often be found out and about, enjoying the town’s nightlife. She’s particularly fond of The Raven

While practicing necromancy, it’s become a hobby of hers to make dead rats do the exact choreography of *NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye. It’s great entertainment for a night in.

#bio #taken #taken human #taken spellcaster #spellcaster #human #margot robbie #the craft #parental death tw

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blogofloathing · 1 year ago

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Parts 1 of 1, Gillian B And The Unruly Interviewee

After a less than polished bus ride we arrived to the equally less than polished slums of Porkham,

I'd say it looked better in my day, except I wouldn't know, I grew up in a more respectable area.

Adjusting my trusty driving cap, spiffy bow tie, and affirming these good looks with my crew.

we set off, according to my media guy fishing is popular this time of year, so why not cash in?

Being careful to avoid nails and trash (human or otherwise) on our meandering way to the bridge,

wherein todays interviewee was apparently living.

In my opinion he should just get a job and maybe contribute to society? But that's not "kind" or "empathetic" according to my trusty cameramen.

Stepping into the clearing we see exactly what I had feared, I was hoping we had bad intel.

Yet lo and behold, a stubble ridden homeless sat adjacent to us, probably high out of his mind.

"Mm.. oh! Hey! Yall are here for the interview?" He shouted over to us, well, to say he raised his voice would be a lie, but that was certainly the intent.

Our cameras focused shakily on the dirty hobo we have unfortunately decided to question today.

My mic man stood just a bit too close, so that every word spoken slightly blasted the audio.

I'm sure someone can make it sound good later,

"we are go in 3, 2.." holding up one finger for the last call, before miming an inaudible "go".

And giving our cameras the signal to proceed, they ask him the first of many questions.

"Mm'well when you're fishing in sketchy spots ya gotta specialize" he mumbled, gesturing to the tackle box, though it's more of a tackle lunch box

The camera zooms in as he pulls out a wriggling gummy worm, sugar dusting its exterior.

Christ how on earth is that thing moving, "mm them gummy worms grow near rivers"

"Makes em self supplyin" he walks us through, as our whole team takes a step or two back.

"Mm I think somea them barbecue fellas put somethin in the water over there.."

Glancing over to the stream, which looked more like a pot of soup full of garbage than a river.

Maybe interviewing this gross hobo was a mistake. Certainly I'll be taking a bath after this,

But for the sake of journalism, we let him go on

"Makes so they're good for catchin them colorful fishies, f'miliar sight for em" indeed the worm was bedazzled in a rainbow of striped colors

Enough to make my head hurt just looking at it.

Though none of my crew has ever heard of any kinda rainbow fish, probably some new drug the homeless are taking, and we wonder why the city is trying to stamp out these kinds of people!

"Mm'infact I got onea them on my line right now,"

our cameraman panning quickly over to the hobos fishing pole, propped up against some rocks.

The line was limp for the time being, that is to say if it would ever actually be pulled by something other than garbage, (excluding the man himself.)

Christ thank god we're not live right now, we can have whatever-his-name-is edit that out later

"Mm, oh! An' here's some more from my stash" he pipes up with subdued surprise, a fuzzy worm covered in spines was crawling up his arm, "they're s'posed to be poisonous but I f'gure you let em do what they do, they go fine"

"These are good for catchin them walkin fishies, mm'paralyzes their muscles," he explained, flexing his fingers loosely before constricting them tightly

Then sighing with a noticeably disappointed tone, "people are way too hesitant 'bout fish legs, I tell em they're just like frog legs, but I guess they don't much like those neither.."

Personally I can't see a world where I or anyone on my team eats that, but of course let's remember they're not like you and me.

"ahh here's one'a my favorites," he grunts, pulling out a large bag full of sickly bright red worms.

"Onea them groups of chemical guys dyed some kids hair in the river and plumb contaminated this whole bag," shaking them in our face

And sure enough there could be faint spots of pink vaguely seen under the thick scarlet glaze.

"Mm'but whatever's in em makes the fishies go all crazy," he explains, shaking his hands wildly in the air to demonstrate this apparent frenzy.

"They dye your tongue red for a good while when ya eat em though, mm'sooo if that ain't your style I can't sell ya on em" placing it back down where it immediately stained the ground scarlet.

I'm forced at this point to give my team a glare of disapproval, some of them seeming far too genuinely interested in what this hobo had to say.

They look sheepish for a moment at my face, but then continue looking past me at him.

Really I don't see what use there is in listening to stuff like this, I'm only here for content.

"Mm'I don't know how I hook thesen's but I do an' they fetch pretty good" he mumbles tacitly.

Holding up what appeared to be a pile of loose integers in vaguely the shape of a squiggly line.

Wriggling and moving in a way that didn't account for any sort of connections or reason.

My whole team taken aback at once says "what on earth??" quietly in united confusion. Before then looking at each other in mirrored disbelief.

despite having no possible way to crawl the way it does, making a gentle journey along his arm.

Coming to a rest at his shoulder where he picks it up, somehow, "mm'I expect this's due to runoff from the math guys dumpin their old equations in the water" expecting us to understand any of that.

"But them educated fishies really love em, maybe they're tryna solve em or somethin" he says with a reverent little chuckle, though it's more of a cough.

The unsightly man continues excitedly showing us various worms, giving exaggerated and showy gestures for each presentation.

As if his hands are the actual ones being asked.

"Don't even get me started on them spider worms! Haha, mm'just kiddin, please do"

I'm positively sick with boredom but I have been forced by my team not to leave.

Until thankfully, salvation arrives at last when he appears to reach the end of his last show & tell.

Putting various worms(?) Back into containers, and a quick check to the continuously light line.

"Well thank yall kindly for- Vic! Vic get on over here I'm gonna be on the television!" He shouted suddenly, eyeing an unseen figure behind us.

My heart sank sickeningly, he was right about to bid us a good day, we were so damn close! And..

A possibly even dustier hobo, girl? Waltzes over to us, Jesus Christ it just keeps getting worse.

"Yo! Walt! You're famous eh? Gettin the big bucks?" the two laugh heartily, "see I told ya you're fishin would take off you old sot" she teased loudly.

They chit chat for a beat, with me continuing to shuffle backwards, much to my crews chagrin.

I'm silently begging my cameras to let me leave with my wallet intact before it catches sight of me

The urgent tugs at my boom operators sleeve going unnoticed save for a bemused look.

"Hey! Wanna ask me some stuff! Give me some free stuff?" She bursts into my world unwelcome.

Seemingly moved on from the dirty man, onto me.

For a moment I try to pretend as if not having noticed her, but fate did not hold the cards for me.

"Cmonnnn I know you're one of them big shots you got cash" her bushy eyebrows turned at an almost impossible angle, no wonder she looked mannish.

Signing didn't seem to work, as expected with the uneducated, but even my perfectly clear refusal to answer was left disregarded by this girl.

"Psh, figures you uppercrusts think you're too good to talk to me" she sneered derisively.

I tentatively waved to one of my crewman, whom seemed wholly preoccupied with the fisherman,

The shows over! What is there to talk about? My pleas yielded no results, I was fully on my own.

"What's with ya? You talk?" Her intense eyes bore holes into my own, attempting to take a look behind them in a quite uninvited intrusion.

Ugh these types are always so pushy, I swear I don't know why I agreed to do this.

As she pressed her face more closely to mine I could feel her gross, warm breath

Like the smog of a smokestack, clinging to my skin and hair in a sickeningly sticky way

"Hellooooo is anybody home Mr Rich?" Her words poked, knocking the glass of a terrarium to make me dance, managing only to startle me further

My discomfort is reaching its peak and I'm nearly made to give the emergency sign to my crew,

When the hobo girl reaches her hand out to touch me again, my skin prickling in irid anticipation.

And Inexplicable even to myself, a tear sparkled dully in my eyes, which were presently pressed together, as if I'd disappear if I couldn't see her.

This would surely be the end of my career, she would know.. I could feel everyone's eyes on me

And indeed the look on her face told me the gears were turning, some remnant of social awareness ticked around echoey in her hollow dome.

Gillian Barlows A Sissy surely what the headline would read, they'd be right, and that would be it.

These newspaper ghosts flapped hauntingly in my head like a flock of my worst anxieties.

Of circling vultures primed to take a strike at me any moment, the wilting journey of my egos end.

Before my cameraman, who must have finally noticed my situation, stepped between us.

Reforming the barrier I had been trying to keep hold of, that this girl had ripped it up.

"I'm sorry ma'am but you're gonna have to step back" a stern but not unkind order, his voice soothingly final, as if he was just stating the facts.

Equally putting to rest my growing discontent, "eh? Awww cmon you interviewed Wal-" she started, wildly gesturing In the other hobos direction.

"Ma'am we have a very concise schedule, and please refrain from touching our host." He retorted firmly, the rest of my crew standing nearby as well.

His hand nested on my shoulder as he said it

The lot of them were towers of men, acting as body guard and camera crew in unison

Pillars of my kingdom who kept the gates guarded

Standing (in no uncertain terms) a harsh contrast to my otherwise quite stubby figure.

We shared a quick look, his half smirk telling me don't worry, I've got you, as he continued the contentious chat with this random girl.

"Well- ugh fine! Take your chintzy camera cats somewhere else!" She expleted, giving our cameras a rude hand gesture before storming off.

"I'm too good for your lil TV shit anyway, hacks!"

Kicking a can into the lake that had been in her way, though I didn't hear the sound it made.

My ears were still plugged shut by the awful dripping fear that enveloped me at the ordeal,

I couldn't let someone see me like that, least of all someone like her, this was a mistake.

Breathing growing heavier, and knees weaker, the weight of this pressure primed to knock me over.

This is stupid, getting so worked up over someone like her, but despite all principles, the gnawing feeling in my gut was unwilling to accept reality.

I felt floaty and tingly, like I was on the brink of a faint, of losing my balance completely and falling..

Right into the strong arms of my cameraman, who had already set the camera down a ways away.

"Were you still rolling? Did you get it?" I whispered in a strained voice, almost inaudibly.

He shushed me, carrying me over to the rest of my crew, setting me down easy next to them.

I felt so comfortable being held by him, like he always knew exactly where he was going.

"Hey boss! We's were talking to the fisherman, and he gave us some fish on the house!"

My mic operator excitedly informed me, holding up a shockingly good looking salmon.

The man had been teaching us how to identify a real good salmon and well, there it is

Its tail fins were pronounced without being floppy, and the scales shone like glass or crystal.

My expression evidently spoke volumes how did he catch that "guess he had some right ideas"

Smirked my mic man, inviting an exaggerated eye roll from me, though I couldn't help but agree.

"Anywho! Let's get a move on Gill!" he sprang matter o factly, also springing me onto my feet.

"here G" my other cameraman said, his chill demeanor contrasting so that it made me giggle.

Waving to the whole crew, who all took me up into their arms in turn, lifting me almost effortlessly.

Linking together to create a proper seat for me to rest in, even if I did feel a little silly.

A mobile throne of sorts, to lead the charge.

"What say we all go for drinks?" My mic man suggested, looking around at the rest of us.

Who all nodded in approval "then let us go!" My cameraman said resolutely,

I signed a clumsy "but what about the interview?"

"we can edit the footage later" he spoke directly to me "let's go have some fun"

These affirmations, bringing back to life a smile, informing my unending confidence around them.

I didn't say anything, but I pointed forward in a mock gesture of commencement.

Each member of my crew pointing in turn, as I lead the group, captain at the helm.

Maybe they were right, I could use a bit of a wind down more often to cool the nerves.

As long as it means more time spent with these idiots, I could see.. some time off.

"To TV! To Drinks! To Gillian!!" The whole gaggle chanted, yelling my name with especial vigor.

#original character #original writing #shadows over loathing #west of loathing #sol #wol #writing #oc character #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers and poets #writeblr #writblr #female writers #writer #black and white #writerscommunity #writer things #writerblr

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

Note

bestie do we still get kt x singer reader?!🥲i need it after the anti-kt disappointment

for you, fellow KT bestie (does it rhyme???) who's been deprived of our lovely viking for far too long, i'd give it to youuu

change

being a female singer-songwriter in a very saturated industry, you work hard to get where you are now. but kieran works harder until he can call you his.

kieran tierney x singer!reader

word count: 2.0k

note: i gotta be honest... i tried so hard not to entertain this ask because my request's closed and i have so many left i haven't worked on yet, but an idea popped in my mind that i had to write it down. and in the light of us fellow KT girlies not being granted his appearance by mikel, which coincided with my bday week this time around, here it is! but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so not beta-read yet.

the song included in this work is this.

“A record I must say,” Lauren, your agent, walked into your studio alongside your publicist with a cup of tea—dajeerling and brewing hot, no less, just the way you like it. “A birdie told me you haven’t pulled out all-nighter lately and chose to clock in early instead.”

“Morning to you, too, Lauren,” You pushed back your chair, straying away your eyes from the lined-up monitors on your work station. “Now, what’s wrong in being early?”

“As far as I can recall, you love your bed so much that you always try to spend your time there until it’s really time to go,” Lauren put your cup and your smoked-beef sandwich on the table standing in the middle of the room. “Am I right?”

You could only laugh at your agent’s long-standing experience of the countless times she had to drag you out of your bed so you could make it in time for radio promotions. She even went as far as preventing you from touching the bed when you were due for a red carpet, afraid you’d pass out and she had to extort physical means to get you wake up.

In your defence, you couldn’t help it. Inspirations come to you at unexpected times, and mostly they keep you up during the time when everybody’s asleep because you can’t not make something out of it while it lasts. They are what keep you afloat in this make-it-or-break-it industry, the root of your endless hits after hits, and precisely why your agent—although groaning while doing so—would still shake the sleep from your entire being relentlessly.

However, you couldn’t deny your agent’s astute observation that you had, indeed, been gracing your studio in normal time zone. Something that wasn’t exactly unheard of but definitely something that was missing from a gazillion years ago.

In fact, deep down, you actually surrendered yourself to the fact attack launched by Lauren because you were changing, for good. No longer were the days of grabbing instant meal kits, nights of recording and takeouts. And you have every reason to.

While the smoke of brewing hot tea was usually something you look forward to get your body and soul intact for the rest of the day, lately there had been another angelic sight freely occupying the other side of your bed—a sight you look forward to see the first thing in the morning, as soon as you open your eyes to the bright, blinding sun. Yet, you could swear the sight was even mesmerising than the sun itself.

The calm personified in Kieran Tierney when he was sleeping was something else. Eyes shut perfectly in a dome shape and eyelashes tickling his prominent cheekbones—it was a scenery you would definitely choose over the leather four walls of your studio.

Kieran when awake was already bedazzling as it is, but when you take away all the determination and worries, he simply looks like an innocent child sleeping, with those thin lips left agape and soft snores coming out in tune melodically with the chirping bird outside.

For that particular private viewing alone, if it meant you had to do patchworks to your usual unusual routine, you would gladly do it in a heartbeat. You’d enjoy the bonus of 5 extra minute to run the pads of your fingers along the lines of his facial structure, grazing inch and every bit of the strong features you’ve come to love the past months, tracing every crook and nook until nothing else left untouched.

You like to touch the end of his hairline and the beginning of his skin, creasing out the contracted muscle at your initial touch, down to his thick brows, the long eyelashes, protruding cheek bones and jaw lines, the apple chin… and your favourite of them all; the thin but healthily pink lips that always pouts in default but would turn into a megawatt smile whenever around you. It’d become your favourite ever since you noticed that particular perk only you had the privilege to own.

Your hands would draw back to the tip of his pointy nose, a feature he inherited from his patrilineal genetics, and he would scrunch the muzzle softly as if he was about to sniff before gaining consciousness slowly but surely. You’d come to realise it was marked by his 3-times blink before he groaned a sleepy, groggy good morning as he took in his surroundings.

And you’d laugh when he attempted to pull you into another tight cuddle, prolonging your lazing time on the bed by leaving pecks on the crown of your head, as if he didn’t have somewhere to go every morning without fail.

As much as you’d come to terms with the fact that you know now your way of dying—should you be able to choose—is to be engulfed in Kieran’s arms, basked in his signature mixture of natural odour and his favourite perfume, until you run out of breaths, Kieran’s athletic routine was the reason why you had to get up the same time as your boyfriend.

Because who could fall asleep again when you got to gawk on your shirtless boyfriend walking around your bedroom like he owned the place?

Certainly not you, not when the adrenaline was too high on certain times and all you had to focus was not to tackle your boyfriend in the bathroom so that you could have sex. He has a job to keep, and you have fans waiting for your next creation. So you channelled your overflowing energy into coming into the studio early—it wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, really, if you exposed yourself that your next album would be solely inspired by your “burly yet soft like a teddy bear” lover.

If 5 years ago someone said to you that you’d undergo all these drastic changes, you’d laugh at their face. Your old self wouldn’t have approved of your decision on letting Kieran in to your life so fast in the first place.

Old you, who didn’t think of anything else but your budding career.

Old you, who was so afraid to lose whatever you had because of a stupid move, like your fellow musicians went wrong.

Old you, who thought you had too much at stake to think of something outside the music and your fans.

Old you, who learnt from your last ex-boyfriend that you had to fight your way up on your own.

“How’s the album going?” Lauren started off again, now her notes and iPad sprawled all over the table, and you took the hint to get serious. “Is there any samples we can hear of?”

“I do—”

And that was when you realise your phone—your other phone, to be exact; the one you bought for its music features so you could rest assured to keep your creative outlet as positive as possible—was nowhere to be found. Your morning commute only includes the likes of your house or Kieran’s house and work lately, so you’ve got no choice but to call your boyfriend.

“What’s up, babe?”

Kieran had made it a habit of his to rotate any pet name he could probably think of to call you. On any other circumstances, you would usually curl your fingers when someone called you by a sweet moniker of their choice—heck, your last ex fling even complained about your disdain to them. But rather than disgust this time, it was more at the weird sensation vibrating through your entire body that you found yourself rather liking them.

In fact, you had to give Kieran a big kudos for making the transition in their relationship relatively natural. While a lot of things escalated very quickly in your respective lives, it somehow felt like it just fell into their deserving place instead.

Kieran really meant it when he vowed he would prove her fears wrong, exactly the night when you decided to let him into your life.

“I left my other phone at home, can you bring them to my studio?”

“Sure thing, love,” And Lauren had to hold back her squeals when she noticed your blushing cheeks. “See you in a bit.”

Turned out, it wasn’t merely a bit to the Scotsman. How could he not be stunned when you pulled the rug from under his feet?

He was only supposed to call your other phone in order for him to bring the device to you, but as soon as he heard intently and closely to the caller ring you’ve put for him, he was rendered speechless.

The very reason why your relationship with Kieran took off on a very long slow burn into what they were now was because you were initially very averse at the idea of romantically involved with anyone. Not after what your ex had done to you, and Kieran went into diving fully realising and acknowledging the part. He’d come to embrace your flaws and your imperfections, no matter how much you hate them, because it’s what made you… you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Including your lack of verbal affection.

The irony, Kieran would laugh at the revelation, but it didn’t matter in his opinion because it didn’t particularly equal to not meaning you love for him. You crumbling down the longstanding Berlin Wall between them was enough of a proof that you felt the same way as him.

He had before long accepted the idea that you were not fond of grandiose gestures from your significant other, nor did you like doing so to your partner. You belonged rather to the kind of people who liked spending time closely with their respective partner, be it candle-lit dinner in the iconic Aviary or be on the phone call with him for hours when he was on an away match–didn’t matter for you, really.

You preferred to express her affection into a set of discreet actions; you could be found constantly holding his hand whenever you had the chance, playing with his hair, juggling between touching the side of his face and feeling the growing stubbles on his jaw.

When he was on an away game, you would send an Uber Eats for him and whoever his roommate at that time, a little supportive note from you would be slipped in the packaging with a help of the deliveryman. Now, being Kieran’s roommate was a spot worth fighting for amongst his teammates. And recently, you let Kieran stay over in your flat every now and then.

The action spoke more than volume, per Kieran’s standard of your love for him. It might not be much, but for Kieran, it meant no more walls, no more hesitation.

So when his ears picked up the lyrics of the caller ring, Kieran was left breathless. It was a crude song, not yet mastered, so he knew it was something she only recently produced, but it was what made the effect booming throughout his body became 10 times shuddering.

I remember like it was yesterday

First kiss and I knew you changed the game

You have me, exactly, well you want it,

And I'm on it

And I ain't ever gonna let you get away

Holdin' hands never made me feel this way

So special, boy it's your, it's your smile

We so in love

You had never been fluent in articulating her feeling into words of either written or spoken form, at least to Kieran’s face, but this song–it pretty much contained every description of what you felt towards him, practically a song to profess your love to him in a very discreet way.

You are my baby love, my baby love

You make the sun come up (Oh boy, oh boy)

You're my every, everything that I could ever dream of

You are my baby love, my baby love

You make the sun come up (Oh boy, oh boy)

You're my every, every, every, everything

Been a minute and we still holding it down

Butterflies every time you come around

You make me, so crazy

It's crazy, oh baby

And I don't ever wanna be with no one else

You're the only one that ever made me melt

You're special, boy it's your, your style

We so in love

Kieran’s heart was galloping so fast it could outmatch any stallion in their prime. He could actually feel the depths of your unspoken love and affection towards him from the song, from your voice alone, despite the still-lacking quality of the product. But god damn…

If this was the aftereffect of being serenaded by you, in all of your glorious words about how you feel towards him, Kieran didn’t think he could survive another, should you make another song for him.

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itsgeecheebitch · 2 years ago

Text

TITLE: Until Darkness Descends

CHAPTER: 6

SERIES: The Fall Part 1 of 4

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

PAIRING: Ardyn Izunia x reader

RATING: Mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this chapter was originally almost 5,000 words, which is way longer than my usual chapters. So I'm just going to release this scene in bite sized chunks. It's much easier to edit and proofread 1,200-2,000 words versus 5,000. Hopefully me separating the scene this way wont cause any confusion. The scene starts in the present before going into the past. The next chapter will pick up in the past before returning to the present.

The world swished by him at a rapid speed, causing the naked arid landscape to careen past his car. The warm afternoon wind felt good as it combed through his auburn hair and kissed his cheeks. It was going to be a long drive to Insomnia but Ardyn didn’t mind. Usually his preferred mode of travel was teleportation, but there was a sort of mundane charm to driving. It gave Ardyn the time to think and he had much to think about.

Eight years have passed since your arrival to Insomnia and you are now 18 years old. He failed to visit you on birthday last week but it couldn’t be helped. There was only but so many times he could forsake his duties as chancellor before the bill came due. He had to spend the last six weeks catching up on paperwork, attending tedious court meetings, and voting on frivolous empire laws and legislation he had little care or interest in.

He hoped you didn’t miss him too much but Ardyn supposed you were used to his unannounced disappearances by now. Sometimes he would disappear for months before showing himself again. He still had plans to execute and events to set into motion after all. Whenever he would return he would always come bearing gifts.

At first, the gifts were a means to placate you, to keep you from asking too many questions or bemoan his long absence. After a while, Ardyn started to look forward to the way your face would light up whenever you were presented with a gift.

Ardyn looked over at the glossy pink box that was tied in a perfect bow in his passenger seat. This time he splurged a little and got you something better than a trinket. A necklace with a delicate silver chain and red ruby in its heart shaped center. The perimeter of the heart was bedazzled in tiny diamonds, as were the heart shaped earrings that came with it. A smile graced his face at the thought of seeing your eyes brighten in delight.

The moment the smile registered in his mind, he immediately pulled it down into a scowl. He was not enchanted by you by any means. Your smile did not cause his heart to stutter, or his cheeks to hum with a foreign warmth. It most certainly did not make his skin itch with the need to be near you.

The gifts, like everything else he did for you, was just another means to an end. Another method that would bear fruit in the end the moment it came time to usher in phase two of his plans for you. For some reason the reminder of his plans brought a foul taste to his mouth but he ignored it.

He continued to drive down the lonely meandering road with nothing but his thoughts to keep his boredom at bay. As fate would have it you remained in Insomnia and adjusted to your new life as the prince’s personal healer. Your shoulders seemed lighter every time he came to see you, and you smiled more freely.

You spent less and less time around your parents and more and more time at the citadel. But your busy schedule wasn’t enough to completely free you from their cruel clutches. Ardyn had to do that himself. It was four years ago. He came to see you a little after your 14th birthday and planned to take you to see the circus. It had been a few years since you last beseeched Ardyn to spirit you away, although your desire to see your circus family never wavered. In order to keep you happy, Ardyn started to take you to see them a couple of times a year.

At first, the idea went smoothly. Ardyn would take you to see them every couple of months and the same song and dance would commence at every visit. They would greet you, exchange heartfelt hugs, give Ardyn a questioning, wary look, and then ignore him for the rest of the night in favor of talking to you. For years nothing came of those visits, until it did.

He remembered teleporting into your bedroom. Being a member of the court had been kind to you, bestowing you with riches that washed away your old life. Your room was as pristine and luxurious as the last time he saw it.

A plush pink and white rug laid underneath his boot clad feet and was swallowed by the presence of an enormous queen sized bed. Translucent pink curtains tumbled around the bed from the canopy, giving the room a true princess feel. And no opulent bedroom is complete without a chandelier.

It dangled above the bed and shed soft white light upon the vanity table. Ardyn walked over to the table, his curiosity piqued at the array of makeup and perfume bottles that littered the table’s surface. That’s when he heard it, the sharp piercing sound of skin hitting skin, followed by a cry and the loud crash of someone hitting the ground.

Anticipation was hot on his heels as he stormed towards your bedroom door. He didn’t even need to press his ear against the wood in order to hear her venomous voice stab through the wood.

“How is it my fault?!” Came the shrill voice of your mother.

“How is it not your fault?!” What Ardyn assumed was your father, replied.

He heard your mother scoff. “You honestly think it's my fault that she’s out there chasing after older men? You’re more stupid than I already thought you were.” That made Ardyn pause. They weren’t talking about you, were they? You weren’t the type to entertain the lecherous whims of men. And besides, you were still just a child. What gave them the impression you were seducing older men?

Venom dripped from your father’s words when he replied, “you watch your fucking mouth.

“Please, just stop already-”. Came your mousey plea. Your voice sounded wobbly and stripped bare as though you were fighting a losing battle with your emotions.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

“No, let her talk.” Your mother’s voice bled through the door. “Let her tell you all about why she has a taste for older men. Who knows? You just might learn a thing or two about yourself.”

There came another loud smack followed by your rushed desperate words. “Please just stop! I’m not doing any of those things, Ardyn is my friend”. Oh, so this was about him. Ardyn remembered feeling confused. How did your parents know about him? They never saw him. To his knowledge you never spoke a word about his existence to them so how?

Your father gave you a humorless chuckle, “I’m s’pposed to believe in that crap?”

“It's true!” You cried. “He is my friend and we never did any of those things. He’s not like that”.

“Why do you think a grown man would wanna hang around a little ass girl like you? So you could braid each other’s hair and go shopping? Is that what you believe? Huh? You’re as dimwitted as your mother.” Ardyn remembered hearing your father snarl. He learned a lot about your parentage over the years, some from your tales of woe, and others from his own research and observation. It turned out their marriage wasn’t one born out of romance and desire, but out of responsibility and duty.

Your mother was a prostitute whose services were highly favored by your father, a lonely circus performer. He used her services for a few months before she fell pregnant with his child, you. After that they eloped. The house of cards that was their situation collapsed the moment they said ‘I do’. Since then they were at constant war with each other, yelling, slapping, biting, and fighting one another. So much so that they relied upon their circus friends, your beloved ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ to raise you during the first few years of your childhood.

As repulsed as they were by one another, it didn’t stop them from constantly fucking like rabbits. Perhaps that was what kept them off the brink of divorce for all these years, that and the profit they leeched from your talents.

Your mother’s voice was the next one he heard. “I ain’t the one who gave her daddy issues, hun. This is all on you. As for you,” thwack! There was a familiar feminine cry, yours. She raised her hand at you. Blistering hot rage scorched the inside of his body. It snarled and seethed like a rabid beast out for blood. The grip he had on your doorknob was white knuckle tight. He remembered seeing black veins branch over the surface of his skin like webs, threatening to conquer his already fracturing mind.

Ardyn inhaled deeply and washed away the rage with his breath. The action only took some of the edge off but at least the black web was gone and he no longer felt the scourge wiggle and squirm inside of him. He didn't have time to question his reason for getting angry on your behalf since your mother began to speak again.

“Did you think we really wouldn’t find out?” Your mother continued.

“I wasn’t keeping him a secret!” You said, your voice heavy with tears.

“Oh so sneaking behind our backs to go visit the circus with him for all these years was just your way of introducing him to us? You’re fucking him?” So that’s how they found out about him. Your dear old auntie Maggie and uncle Renji spilled the beans. He had a feeling they would eventually notify your parents of his involvement in your life but he wasn’t sure. There had been radio silence between them and your parents for years, so Ardyn had no reason to suspect they would break the silence over this.

“For the last time, no!” You said.

“Honestly, I don’t really give a shit what you do but you better not fuck this up for us.” Your mother replied. Her apathetic words, coupled with the arctic chill in her voice, only excited Ardyn’s anger even more. “You really think King Regis would let you continue to play healer with his son while knowing you spread your legs for older men? Gods forbid you end up pregnant. So you’re going to stop seeing this man. You’re going to keep your legs close and not give king Regis any reason to toss you out of his court. Do you understand?”

“B-but I’m not-”

“Do you fucking understand?” Your mother shouted. Darkness branched across Ardyn’s vision. The acidic taste of anger soured his tongue and vibrated in his molars. The hand that wasn’t holding your doorknob twitched. It suddenly became harder to ignore that insufferable itch, the bloodlust that came with being a daemon. The urge existed just underneath his skin, kept under control by spreading the scourge. As he witnessed the healthy hue of his skin melt away from his limbs, he knew the itch would require way more than a simple spread of the disease to quench it. He needed blood and it was your parents' blood that filled his nostrils with the phantom scent of iron.

“Yes!” You cried.

That seemed to satisfy your mother, but your father’s disgruntled voice suggested otherwise for him. “That ain’t fucking good enough” He snarled.

An exhausted sigh seeped through the door and into Ardyn’s ears. “You brought this onto yourself.” Your mother said. Ardyn heard the soft jingle of metal, followed by the soft clap of leather.

“Come here.” Came your father’s voice.

“But daddy-”.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Ardyn remembered hearing your broken sob. Your soft footsteps whispered across the floor before they stopped and were replaced by the thwack of leather hitting skin. Your cries were nearly drowned out by the thunderous strikes. They were hitting you, beating you. He balled his hand into a tight fist. He could kill them. That was all Ardyn could think about at that moment, how sweet their blood would taste on his tongue, how beautifully they would decorate his palms.

If you weren’t in the house, Ardyn would’ve thrown the door open by now and slaughtered them. But he didn’t want you to witness their demise. Seeing Ardyn hurt someone could ruin the relationship he carefully cultivated between you. He needed it to remain strong. That meant he had to wait a while. Fortunately for Ardyn, he was a master at waiting.

He remembered waiting for about a month before an opportunity presented itself.

#fanfiction #fanfic #a03 fanfic #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ffxv fanfic #ffxv #ffxv fic #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn izunia #ff15 ardyn

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electrasev5nwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Ninja Daily: Clarity 17

"I see that Shizune-san has been taking you around," the blond man said calmly. He was making slightly uncomfortable eye contact, but the soothing quality of his voice and demeanor kept her from feeling too trapped. "How is her company?"

Aiko shrugged one shoulder, still clad in Shizune's kimono. "She seems kind." She paused. "Very helpful and professional. At least outwardly less bizarre than everyone else I've met." She crossed and uncrossed her legs under the table, unable to get completely comfortable wearing so much more fabric than usual. It was a little too warm, especially in a room with no air circulation. Shizune must be a terribly civilized person to wear a pretty kimono everywhere.

A tiny wrinkle formed between the man's eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yepp." She popped the 'p' sound and raised one eyebrow, pretending that her heart wasn't thumping against her chest. "I met the Godaime-Hottie, Jiraiya-sama, and some really grumpy medic who sucks at hide and seek. Also he hit me with a clipboard," she tattle-tailed confidentially, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "I think he has temper problems."

He'd kept a straight face throughout her recitation of thoroughly inappropriate commentary, but the strangest expression crossed Ponytail's features for just a moment at the last bit. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said delicately, folding his hands on the table. "I believe that the young man you speak of would be Tsunade-sama's apprentice, Sasuke-san. You have been acquainted with him in the past."

Aiko shrugged, pretending not to notice the way his voice lilted up in a subtle invitation for her to pursue that line of conversation. She didn't care one way or the other about the grumpy medic, and certainly didn't care to hear about the fun times they'd had back in the good old days that she couldn't remember. She was just trying to get a reaction out of her interrogator to get a measure of his character. The man had to be more than he seemed to be. He didn't appear terribly intimidating. It might have been the bedazzled purple scrunchie he was rocking, though.

'Everyone here is eccentric. Obito was right about that at least.'

"In any case." Ponytail coughed once, gracefully letting the last topic go. "You may call me Inoichi. I thought that we would talk for a while about your recent experiences and thoughts. How does that sound, Aiko-san?"

'Awful. How about we not do that?'

Aiko leaned back in her hard metal chair, scuffing her foot back and forth across the concrete floor. "Fine with me, Ponytail."

He didn't so much as blink, which was off-putting. He wasn't reacting like he should be and she didn't like that. He was hard to read. "Alright. Why don't you tell me about your time out of the village?"

That was such an open-ended question that Aiko didn't know what to do with it. She opened her mouth, and felt her eyebrows furrow.

'How do I sum up a year of my life? I don't even know what he wants to hear.'

Slowly, she rubbed a palm against her thigh, resisting the urge to glance down when her hand didn't run over a weapons pouch with the motion. Of course it didn't. They'd taken away all her weapons.

Ponytail gracefully pulled her out of her head with a soothing hum, still sounding perfectly calm and unconcerned. "That's fine, Aiko-san. We can try another tack. When you were brought into the village, you were not in the best physical condition," he prompted. Hay-yellow lashes caught the dim light when he blinked slowly. "What happened that day? We do have some questions that you could possibly help us fill in about an encounter that the shinobi who rescued you had. Hatake-san theorized that your injuries had been inflicted by Akatsuki. Is that accurate?"

Something gnawed in her chest at that clinical summation. "Yes."

'but it was an accident.'

She swallowed the defensive reaction, letting him assume the worst of Obito. Aiko genuinely had been trying to leave Akatsuki: that was what she should rhetorically emphasize. Obito could look after his fuckin self, apparently. He didn't need her help.

"When most of Akatsuki left, I attacked the man who was watching me and tried to leave. There were … complications, and I didn't go fast enough before he came back."

It was all true, but the words tasted sour rolling off her tongue. Aiko was too caught in her thoughts to notice that Inoichi's gaze sharpened at the subtle emphasis she put on 'he'.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ponytail sympathized.

'Me too.'

Inoichi nodded to Keiko politely as he passed her to enter Tsunade's office. Jiraiya had apparently been downgraded to 'doorstop' sometime recently. He wasn't excelling at the job. The toad sannin let go slightly too early, nearly letting the door shut on Inoichi before leaning against the wall.

Having a conversation with an S-level shinobi at his back would have been an unsettling experience for many shinobi, but Inoichi didn't bat an eye. "Hokage-sama," he greeted. When he pulled up from an immaculately proper 45 degree bow, she was regarding him impassively.

"Inoichi-san." Tsunade-sama shuffled the papers on her desk, ostensibly so that she was looking at Aiko's file. "Please proceed with your findings."

He'd already planned how he would summarize his report, so he easily complied. "In my opinion, Uzumaki-san isn't a threat to Konoha's interests. With the proper treatment, she can be re-acclimated to her old position. In time, she may even regain the majority of her memories. The question of whether or not she will be ready to put on a show for Konan-san's trial is less certain, however."

"Why?" Tsunade-sama folded her hands, not paying her papers one bit of attention. "You implied that she's relatively stable."

"I didn't say that," Inoichi corrected mildly. A pale face swam across his mind's eye with the same cautiously blank expression the girl had worn for most of her interview. "At the moment, she's far from it. The leader of Akatsuki did a great deal to ensure that she was emotionally invested in his interests and person. She has built him up to an infallible, near mythic status in her mind. He was the center of her world and her most important person." Tsunade curled one side of her lip in revulsion, so Inoichi hurriedly added, "In a platonic sense." He cleared his throat, and pitched his voice back down again. "Uzumaki-san was injured after she attempted to leave Akatsuki, which would indicate that she is unlikely to return to him willingly. However, she thinks it is inevitable that he will find her again, and even looks forward to it. Uzumaki-san wants to settle some sort of grudge."

Jiraiya snorted. "That's vague."

"That was one of the topics she was cautious to avoid." Inoichi spread out his hands, palms up. "On the whole, she was forth-coming with what she thought I wanted to hear. Uzumaki-san isn't hiding much, but she definitely does not trust Konoha's benevolence. I chose not to push. She was already aware that she is a Konoha kunoichi and assumed that she would be required to resume that role in time. As she begins to feel more comfortable and trusting, she will open up."

"How do I make that happen?" Tsunade asked seriously. A bit of breeze from the open window behind her rustled her hair over her shoulders. "She might have information about Akatsuki that could help us keep Naruto safe."

Ignoring the spontaneous Hero Wind, Inoichi cast his mind back to exactly what he had concluded. "I respectfully suggest that you assign her to a Yamanaka mind expert working in collaboration with an expert in trauma and repression in order to do what we can to prompt her memories and encourage her to ruminate on the ones that she has re-acquired. Other than that, keep her in the village and with other Konoha shinobi in order to re-integrate her. She will need to re-learn social norms. Her viewpoint is very much skewed by what Akatsuki chose to expose her to."

The Sannin exchanged glances that gave away little, but some of the tension in the muscles around Jiraiya's eyes relaxed.

After he realized no one else was going to speak, Inoichi cleared his throat. "It's going to be a slow process and she needs to make overtures on her own. Uzumaki-san chose to leave Akatsuki because she realized that her supposed friend had intentionally cultivated a relationship with the intention of manipulating her. Anyone who reaches out to her will be viewed with similar suspicion. She's going to be misbehaving and pushing boundaries," he warned. "Uzumaki-san is waiting for the other shoe to drop and see Konoha expose less than altruistic intentions. Let her make the first overtures of interest, but be sure that someone is ready to talk to her about anything or anyone she expresses interest in."

Tsunade sighed, letting her bangs cover her face and rubbing at a temple, but her lips twitched. "So, we definitely won't be locking her in a room with her brother and letting him use the power of love on her."

Inoichi somehow kept a straight face. "She might actually run screaming if he did. I gained the impression that excessive honesty and expressions of affection are difficult for Uzumaki-san."

That almost wasn't worth commenting on. That was true for almost every shinobi.

"So she's basically the same person. She just doesn't remember why she should give any of us the time of day and has a new, debilitating mistrust of people who are nice to her," Tsunade summarized dryly. Jiraiya gave an uncomfortable cough from the back of the office.

"Also puppets for some reason," Inoichi said contemplatively.

There was a beat of silence while Jiraiya's eyebrows shot up at that bit of trivia.

"No, that's an old issue." Tsunade dismissed. She folded her hands and rested her chin on them. "So, where should we put her? I can't leave her in the hospital. Her old landlord could probably find a place for her, but that wouldn't provide enough supervision. She might have to go back to stay with Naruto and Karin..." The Hokage trailed off at the grimly amused shake of Inoichi's head.

"Not unless you think they will be able to treat her as a stranger and not push for an emotional attachment before she was ready to reciprocate." The grimace Tsunade didn't hide was almost expected. That was what he had thought. "She has to have space to be alone when she wants to be," Inoichi cautioned. "If she's knows that she is under watch all day, Uzumaki-san is going to snap. After a few days, someone can suggest that she go home as long as they don't pressure her. Other than that, I would put her with someone she isn't threatened by and give her a schedule to keep with a set training partner. Probably someone that she's already met so that she isn't being overwhelmed with new people."

Tsunade slowly let one eyebrow rise, not in the mood for guessing games.

"If you were to ask her opinion," Inoichi sighed. "I'm relatively certain that she'll request to stay with Shizune-san." He ticked off possibilities on a hand. "Your other apprentice seems to have bludgeoned her with a clipboard, she finds you intimidating, and putting her with Jiraiya-sama would be a terrible idea." He could all but feel the older man welling up with indignation, but he remained firm and explained his position. "She is under the mistaken impression that Jiraiya-sama is a writer of considerable talent. Given the chance to learn from and emulate his behaviors-"

"Shizune it is," Tsunade interrupted in a strange sort of tone that implied her throat was closed up. She cleared her throat and sat up straight. "Although she doesn't have time to train Aiko; she's far too busy getting ready for when I have to leave. I'll give that duty to someone else."

There was a moment of sullen silence. "I'm offended by that whole conversation," Jiraiya muttered, kicking the wall. "You can't keep me away from her, anyway. You need me to help her get Hiraishin back so that no one else knows something is wrong. My goddaughter is the only one that has taste."

"Bad taste," Tsunade said firmly.

Inoichi shrugged mildly, ready to go back to his home. "She also referred to you as the 'Godaime Hottie.'"

Tsunade paused for a moment, and amended, "Her literary taste is bad." Her lips twitched.

Yamanaka Inoichi hastily left, trying not to hear the sound of breaking glass behind him or Tsunade-sama ordering her old teammate not to look so damn smug.

That night, Aiko stepped cautiously through the doorway that her guide held open. This wasn't her first choice- she'd much rather be alone- but it was much better than going back to the hospital or interrogations. Or staying out on the street. There were just so many people and the skin on the back of her neck wouldn't stop prickling. It felt like they were staring, though she hadn't caught anyone at it.

'I want to go home.'

She closed her eyes, just for a moment and took a steadying breath.

'Not that I have a choice.'

She should behave. Whatever impression she left on Shizune could influence how these people treated her and how long she was forced to see their hack psychologists. It couldn't be an accident that she had been sent to live with the Hokage's assistant. The woman she had been given to was influential.

With that in mind, she resolved to step carefully.

Her mouth tasted sour. "Thank you for having me." Aiko shucked the clear plastic sandals that someone had found for her at the door, peering into Shizune-san's warm, sunny home. Like most Konoha citizens, she lived in an apartment complex. Most of them couldn't be this swanky, however. From what she could see, it was a sprawling open room filled with bamboo, tiny bonsai trees, and tanks filled with little orange goldfish.

'Of course the Hokage's apprentice doesn't live like everyone else.' Aiko gave the least obvious sniff that she could, noting that the faint scent of Shizune's floral shampoo and the tang of hospital air-freshener prevailed. Well. The poor woman probably couldn't do a thing about that aspect of feng shui.

"It's no problem at all. I hope you don't mind that I don't have a proper guest room. I have a futon that will fit well in my office." Shizune padded ahead of her barefoot, running a hand through her hair. "Would you like anything to drink? I'm sure that Inoichi-san kept you talking." She sounded rueful. "He's chatty."

'Yes, he is.'

Aiko purposefully refrained from commenting and made a noncommittal sound as she followed her hostess to the doorway of the kitchen. That… was a lot of counter space. Aiko raised her eyebrows, not trying to hide that she was impressed. If she had made a prediction, Aiko would have guessed that Shizune's home was as utilitarian as she seemed to be. That was not so. If anything, it seemed like a zen sanctuary.

'She's confident in her abilities. No one who wasn't would live in a home with big windows like that.'

While Shizune's back was turned, Aiko palmed a kitchen knife off the counter and slipped it under her obi. It was good to have steel in her hands again. "Whatever you have would be fine," she said belatedly when Shizune gave her a questioning look. The older kunoichi returned from the fridge with a carton of juice a moment later.

She liked Shizune reasonably well, and the fact that the older woman went to bed early did give her a comfortable amount of space. Aiko still slept with her filched knife hidden under her pillow. She would have felt much better if they hadn't taken away her weapons and gear. Uneasy, she tossed and turned for a hideously long time, considering and discarding nervous predictions about what the next day would bring.

'If I don't piss them off, they'll have to give me my things back. Or something comparable. They don't have me here out of the kindness of their hearts- they'll want me to work eventually. I can't do that in a hand-me-down dress with my bare hands.'

Morning dawned with oppressive brightness into Shizune's flat. Aiko woke suddenly, muscles tense and still for a long minute before she realized that she was alone.

The knife was gone. In its place was a well-worn sleeping cap in the shape of a walrus. She picked it up and gave it a quick sniff, frowning. The scent it carried was… comforting, safe. Her head reeled. Aiko barely noticed burying her nose in the soft fabric to breathe it in. Lavender detergent, spiced shampoo, and a little bit of sweat that hinted at the personal chemistry of the person who'd worn it. Someone male and young. She closed her eyes. It had to mean something. Someone was making a point. Someone who could reach under her head without waking her was trying to make a point.

'I don't get it.'

She tossed the thing aside and tried not to focus on the way her stomach lurched.

Still clad in Shizune's extra dress, Aiko made her way out to the kitchen where Shizune was seated with a newspaper and a cup of coffee from some shop with a cheerful blue logo. She glanced up and then tilted her head toward the counter where another beverage sat. "I didn't know what you like, so I just got you a cappuccino. I hope that's alright."

'The hell is a cappuccino?'

Aiko nodded and took her drink to the table. She took one sip and carefully controlled her features.

'Awful. That's what it is. It's mind-bendingly bad.'

Subtly, she scraped her tongue against her upper teeth to try to get the taste off. Shizune didn't look up from her paper, clearly preoccupied with whatever was going on in the inner pages.

"I have work in an hour and a half. Do you know what you would like to do for the day?" Paper rustled as Shizune flipped over to another section, glancing over at Aiko for a moment. She somehow looked perfectly composed even though it was five in the morning.

When was the last time she'd been awake before seven? Aiko couldn't help but remember that she hadn't brushed her teeth and that her hair was probably one big knot. Self-consciously, she poked at her hair. Yes. It was matted in the back. Why wouldn't it be?

Shizune's voice sounded wryly amused. "Ah. Yes. I'm afraid I don't have time to take you out, but you definitely need supplies. I'll request a budget from Tsunade-sama and have someone sent over who will accompany you."

"I can shop on my own," Aiko rebutted sharply, puffing up.

'What does she think, I'll get lost in the scary new village? I'm not a child.'

"I know," Shizune said mildly. "But someone who knows where the shinobi outfitters are would be a helpful guide, and they might as well keep you company while I'm gone. It'll probably be one of Tsunade-sama's poor beleaguered Chuunin assistants. They would prefer carrying your groceries to running messages and filing."

Aiko didn't buy the implication that she would be doing anyone a favor but relented, shaking her head. Pride was nice, efficiency was nicer. "Fine." She blew air out of the side of her mouth and deflated. "What time should I expect this person?"

Shizune shrugged one shoulder. "Half an hour to an hour after I leave, perhaps. If you can't wait, you can shower with my things and pull another dress out of my closet."

Sharing soap? She couldn't be serious. Aiko skated right past that suggestion. She'd never shared basic hygiene supplies before and she wasn't about to start. That was just a little weird. She didn't want to smell like Shizune.

Waiting half an hour didn't sound so bad. She could wait a while to take care of basic hygiene and try not to ruminate on who had washed the rock dust and blood off her body while she'd been unconscious (or why she sort of smelled like hand sanitizer). What was another half an hour of ickness against the luxury of getting her own clothes and shampoo?

Of course, Shizune turned out to be a big fat liar. The man who showed up two hours later was almost certainly not some beleaguered Chuunin. He wore the Konoha flak jacket, yeah, but no Chuunin moved like that.

Also, she recognized him.

"Yo." Hatake 'Bakashi' raised a single palm on the other side of Shizune's doorway. He was slouched casually, but he still loomed over her.

The man that Obito had thought about as some weird rival didn't look like a mouth-frothing friend-killer, but looks could be deceiving.

Her fingers tightened on the door. He could well be very dangerous, no matter that he'd been her teacher at some point. Everything she'd been told indicated so.

On the other hand, she wasn't proscribing to Obito's worldview anymore- so that one-sided rivalry might be a good sign so far as Hatake's character went. He might be a really nice guy who hugged puppies and big fluffy bunnies.

She stalled for a moment, paralyzed in the face of making that judgment with so little information. Her heart was pounding and breath didn't want to come. Air, where was the air gone to?

Bakashi tilted his head slightly in inquiry, his hand falling back to his side.

Aiko shut the door in his face and locked it.

'Nope. Not dealing with that right now.'

There was a knock a few seconds later, as if he was mildly confused. She ignored it and went to take a shower, fed up with waiting in yesterday's clothes.

Floral scented bath luxuries weren't that awful. It could be worse, Aiko reminded herself firmly, pretending she wasn't rubbing someone else's handtowel on her skin. But- ugh, it was so unsanitary. With a shudder, she turned off the water and fled as soon as humanly possible, heart pounding a tattoo against her throat.

Stupid. She had bigger problems. Like the fact that she was supposed to be meeting someone for a training session in two hours. Would Konoha decide they didn't want her if she wasn't up to par?

Aiko chewed on her lower lip and tried to soothe the roiling in her gut with tea. She ended up pouring most of it down the drain and pacing in the small space available.

'I have to impress whoever they send. I don't want to find out what will happen if they don't want me anymore.'

The next time someone was at the door, the man on the other side was less visibly suspicious than Bakashi. He offered her a slightly crooked smile, displaying vividly white teeth.

'Someone listened to their mom when she said to brush three times a day. That smile is beautiful. He should be on posters. It's almost unreal.'

Actually, with the rock-solid build, square jawline, and painfully wholesome aura that her visitor owned, he looked shockingly like-

"You look like an underwear model," Aiko said bluntly, tilting her head to the side. "Are you?" Her foot tapped against the floor with poorly restrained nervous energy. This was the person she was supposed to fight? Was she supposed to be able to beat him? Could she? Hard to tell.

He didn't even blink. "Hello, Aiko-san," came the calm reply. "I'm Yamato, a Jounin shinobi of Konohagakure, and the Hokage has asked me to assess your current level. Are you ready to go?" His hair, somewhere between 'clean-cut' and 'intentionally messy', did not waver in the breeze from the open window in the stairwell. She suspected hair gel.

'A Jounin, huh? So, that's a tentative no to the underwear thing, but I'm still nursing suspicions.'

"Sure." Aiko placed a palm in the center of his chest and propelled him out of the way, using the grip to roughly gauge his musculature. Her free hand pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click. "Lead on, Nadeshiko."

'He's got a lot of muscle on me. I think he's physically stronger than Obito even. Close ranger fighter, or something that involves heavy work.'

He might be slow, then. Slow-twitch, bulky muscle could weigh down a shinobi. Then again, she probably wasn't supposed to kill him and most of her techniques were lethal by design to avoid a drawn out fight. Damnit.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Yamato protested mildly, disentangling her hand from his vest and turning to jog down the stairs. "That pun finally died out a few months back and I was glad to see it go."

'Someone else beat me to that? I thought it was a good pun.'

Her expression soured, just a bit. "Yamato it is." The last of her quietly spoken words were nearly swallowed by the wall of sound that washed over them when Yamato pulled open the door. A hot wave of air carried in hundreds of murmuring voices, the groaning of wagon wheels, and distant shrieking from happy children.

'It's awful.'

She had to steel herself to take the first step outside into the fray.

It was positively surreal. How had she gone from living with Obito to… to here, in this crowded mess of a city?

"I can't help but notice that you seem to be underequipped." Yamato paused for a moment on the stoop before he pushed out into the crowd, rubbing at his jaw with a finger. "Is that… intentional?"

Aiko twitched, rubbing her index finger against her thumb. "No," she said shortly. "Shizune said that someone would take me to get equipment, but the person who showed up was so sketchy that I shut the door in his face."

Yamato made a small sound of agreement, as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. "Ah. Suh-keh-chi?" he asked carefully, as though the syllables were slightly foreign to him.

"Very." She flicked her gaze up to his profile, matching her stride to his and keeping a little closer to his side than she would like. He was pretty good at clearing a path through the throngs of people out doing their shopping. "Bad posture, messy hair, suspicious mask, and he was definitely not a Chuunin. Shizune told me to expect a Chuunin. I detected shenanigans and locked the door." She carefully did not contemplate that her reasons had been rather more personal than his unkempt, seriously suspect appearance. Yamato didn't need to know that. Aiko skirted slightly behind Yamato for a moment to avoid a woman carrying a large basket before darting back out to catch up.

'Wow, there are a lot of people out. I don't think I've been to anywhere that even sort of compares in terms of population density. Are all shinobi villages like this? They're packed in like animals.'

Yamato swallowed, face painfully blank. "I suppose it is important not to wander off with suspicious characters."

"Oh, definitely," Aiko agreed, watching two scruffy children race, both holding what appeared to be younger siblings on their shoulders. "Come to think of it, I probably should have made sure you were the right person; but you just don't seem that suspicious and you were actually on time."

"Your caution does you credit," he managed in a slightly higher, stiff tone.

'I was serious. Is he making fun of me?' She shot a suspicious glance up at her companion, managing to nearly blind herself on a glint of light from his metal face-place. That did make it harder to read his face. Maybe that was why he had it?

A flash of purple stapled to a telephone pole caught her eye- an advertisement for some kind of festival game calling for registration, apparently. Aiko looked at it a moment longer than strictly necessary, more interested than the sheet warranted.

'Why do I want to sign up? Am I suddenly eight or something?'

"Aiko-san?" She started guiltily and stepped quickly to catch back up, noting the tension in her escort's well-muscled neck.

Her face colored. "I'm here, I'm here."

Yamato made a humming sound, but paid more attention to her after that. Gradually the crowds thinned and the buildings transitioned from brightly-painted, oddly shaped multi-story affairs to sprawling traditional homes interspersed with occasional tall gates, numbered from 18 to 24. Yamato took her to gate 25 and pushed it open with a tap of chakra and a palm to display tall, healthy grass sprawling over a lightly hilled area. A cluster of trees in the distance cut off her sight.

'This is a Konoha training ground?' Aiko sucked on her lower lip, taking it in. It looked more like a small park than anything. She could smell the fresh scent of fast-moving water somewhere nearby to the east.

'Fancy.' She couldn't help but sneer, just a little bit. 'Obito and I did just fine with the backyard and mountain steppes by our safehouses. You don't need a specially designed field.'

Then again, when you lived in an industrial area, maybe you did. If Konoha hadn't specially set aside land, their shinobi wouldn't have any room to workout. In other words…

'I'm kind of an insufferable snob.'

Chastened by her own thoughts, Aiko scratched behind her ear and ducked her head a bit. Yamato was closing up the field- probably to ensure that no one else wandered into the middle of their practice and risked bodily harm.

"So." She spun slowly to survey the area, clasping her fingers in front of her body. "What are we trying to accomplish?"

"Today, I think we'll just gauge your current level. Without your weapons you won't be fighting at one hundred percent, so don't feel too pressured."

Aiko nodded, acknowledging that she understood.

'Oh, that's good. Not as much pressure as I'd thought. Konoha is a little soft.'

That was good, though. She didn't want to have to use her Rinnegan. No one had asked about her eyes. Maybe they didn't know.

She moved to settle into an athletic stance, and jolted back into reality when the tight material of Shizune's dress restricted her movement around her ankles. That was going to be annoying. Actually… Aiko bent to hitch the fabric up, tying it to the side against her thigh.

A high-pitched "urp" sound eeked out of Yamato's throat. She jerked up to see what was wrong, only to see that he was pointedly looking away from her.

"What's the matter with you?" Aiko frowned, finishing tying the ends of Shizune's kimono and checking her range of movement now. Not great, but okay.

"Nothing." Yamato coughed, clearing his throat. "Nothing is wrong."

With an eye-roll, she slipped into a defensive stance. "Just attack me already." She still didn't want to attack him. She didn't have her weapons, any poison, and jutsu could be too dangerous. She'd never fought with anyone other than Obito that she didn't want to kill. She didn't know how to be safe with them.

Instead of arguing, Yamato flowed forward in a surprisingly swift movement to engage her in taijutsu with a low kick. She jumped over the side-sweeping leg and darted behind him, ducking under the punch that followed when he twisted after her.

'I was wrong. He's not slow.'

He wasn't as fast as Obito, though, and that was good enough. Some motions were closer than others, but she managed to move away from every blow. After a few minutes she gritted her teeth and made an offensive movement of her own, throwing a technically perfect but underwhelming punch. He bent over backwards at the waist and moved into a flip, nearly managing to clip her well with a double-kick. She moved back so fast that she felt whiplash, fuzzy spots crawling over her vision.

"Stop." Yamato tossed his head some time later, as if to get sweaty bangs off his face. Again, his hair remained still. Definitely gelled into place, then. "Let's try ninjutsu." He had to have read the trepidation on her face but he widened his stance and held his hands in a seal. "Wood style!"

'Wait, what?'

She froze, mind sputtering on what she was seeing instead of picking a counter technique. The material that rocketed at her was much darker and thicker than Obito's vines, but it was the same technique.

'This can't be that common. I know Yamato. He's the training partner that I thought of when Obito first used this on me.'

The instant of hesitation cost her- her mind blanked on a suitable ninjutsu, and she threw her body out of the way instead. The wood curled back at her, giving her barely enough time to side-step and brace a hand on it to flip over.

"Aiko?" Yamato called out, confused. "Use ninjutsu. How about your chakra chains?"

Oh. That'd work. She jumped backwards, welling chakra along her spine.

Using her chakra chains was more annoying than anything, really. They were bulky and kind of clunky- not really fast enough to cut through the wood ninjutsu that Yamato could hurl at her (and that explained his physical strength, wood was heavy). Aiko ended up doing almost as much dodging as before, carefully positioning herself so that she could make token swipes that cut at the seemingly never-ending barrage her training partner could summon up.

Yamato only called a halt once her breath was coming in ragged gasps and sweat was tickling at her hairline, slipping behind an ear. She ducked her head to rub at the trickle with a shoulder. One hand trailed down to tug at the kimono where it was sitting heavy and lopsided against her leg. Kami, that was hot. She needed to get some shorts before she had to do this again. Shizune was nuts, just totally nuts.

Politely, her training partner averted his eyes while she fiddled with her clothes. He wasn't as worn out, but then again, he'd been more stationary. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." He scratched at an arm, fingers slipping under the sleeves he had rolled up to his forearms.

'I would rather shower than eat, but I'm still short on clothes.' Aiko tried not to be too obvious about plucking the dirty, sweaty material of the kimono away from her chest.

In the corner of her eye, she could see Yamato glance at her with poorly hidden amusement. She couldn't blame him.

"You'll take me to get some things after?" she prodded.

His closed-mouth smile was even cuter than the big boy-next-door one. "If you don't think I'm too suspicious."

She reared back and punched him in the arm, a little vexed when he didn't even try to dodge. "Shut up and take me to dinner."

Dinner turned out to be at a cozy barbeque joint, fragrant with burning woods and heavy spices. Yamato took a four-person table by the back of the restaurant and glanced over at the kitchen. As if summoned by ninjutsu, a long-limbed teenager appeared at their table with a notebook and a bedazzled pen that tap, tap, tapped against the paper.

"Water for me."

Aiko glanced up through her lashes, still preoccupied by the menu. "I'll have a dark cola."

Their tanned, androgynous waiter gave a little headshake to coerce loose bangs out of the way, not even bothering to scribble their order. They heaved an enormous sigh that pulled the white fabric of their uniform across their chest. "I would love to get that for you."

She pressed her lips together to keep from smirking at the unenthused lie. Yamato's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything until they were alone again.

"You must have been doing a lot of work." He fiddled with his menu, rubbing at the laminated paper with a thumb. "I don't know what I expected, but that wasn't it."

'He used to know me.' Aiko furrowed her brow and tried to read his expression. 'How well? Are we friends or just training partners? I can't tell.'

For a moment, she really wanted to ask. If she could believe what he'd tell her, she would have. Aiko gave a noncommittal grunt, shrugging one shoulder.

"You're light on your feet," Yamato tried again. His gaze flicked up to the returning waiter and he accepted his drink in the same motion that he pointed out his order. "Thank you." Seamless, he looked back to her. "I think we should work on your blocking and offense, however. You're hesitant. Is it a lack of aggression, or-?"

Aiko shook her head, pulling her lips off her straw. "No. I just didn't want to hurt you. The blocking is a fair assessment, I prefer to move out of the way."

That, and that Obito hadn't wanted her to get into those close-range fights. That had been remarkably short-sighted of him, now that she thought about it. Was that really how his 'Rin' had been? She curled a lip. Not impressive.

"That's not always plausible or practical." Yamato twisted his drink, turning the cup so that the water inside swirled. "You should at least be comfortable with your ability to block and minimize impact when you can't move out of the way."

The sick sensation of flying occurred to her again. The moment of weightlessness before a painful fall down sharp rocks. Aiko took a sharp breath and clenched her jaw, breathing slowly to concentrate on the present. "Yeah."

'I can see my reflection in the table. That's clean.' The wavery girl blinked up at her, dark splotches growing and moving on the yellow ceramic with the motion. A white dish settled in front of her with a clatter to break the reverie. Steam washed up over her face.

"You were worried about hurting me?"

The question took a moment to register. When Aiko remembered what he was referring to, she blinked. "I just…" She shook her head slightly, prodding at her food.

"We can work on that." Yamato picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and let heat waft off of it. "Hesitance is normal when sparring with a new partner. You'll learn when to push and when to hold back."

The tension in her chest loosened. She nodded, putting something savory in her mouth so that she didn't have to come up with a response.

'He's just so freaking nice. Is this guy for real?'

The ambient noise of clattering dishes and quiet conversations was gone. Something was wrong. Aiko registered that Yamato's expression was more chagrinned than panicked as she twisted to view the restaurant. It wasn't hard to find the disturbance. Almost everyone in the place had stopped to look at two young men that had walked in. The patrons that weren't looking were carefully not looking. The only exception was some poor man pouring over what looked like papers in need of grading, tapping a pencil against the base of his high ponytail.

'What the hell is wrong with these new people? I'm the only international criminal I recognize here. If anything, I should be the one getting stared at.'

With a start, she realized that she recognized one of dark-haired young men. The slightly shorter figure was the grumpy medic nin. The other man could have been his brother- they had the same svelte build, pale skin, and dark eyes set over beautiful cheekbones. The new man was even cuter than his medic friend, but that might have been the lack of a scowl. He seemed stiff and miserable under the scrutiny.

Aiko couldn't help but remember the weight of stares on her back when she had walked with Shizune last night.

'Me too, buddy. Me too.'

She wouldn't have cared in the slightest, if the medic hadn't seen and gifted her with a curt nod that momentarily drew the crowd's attention to her. She was dismissed almost as quickly. Something about those men was mesmerizing, apparently.

'I don't see the appeal. They're attractive, but they're not that attractive. And this seems hostile, anyway. Something else is going on. No one stared at the grump before… So the problem is probably the other man.'

Aiko turned back to the table, but kept her ears pricked while the two men seated themselves only two tables away. In the still restaurant, the beginnings of their conversation were easily audible.

"When must you return to the hospital to complete your paperwork?"

People were still staring. Aiko could tell that even without looking up.

'Maybe they think that if they just ignore people long enough, people will ignore them?'

"Tomorrow afternoon. I took the morning off. You're coming with me to work with Sai's team." The medic's voice raised, losing warmth. "Can I get a menu?" Belatedly, he added, "Please," in a long-suffering tone.

Aiko stifled a snort, meeting Yamato's eyes. And then she couldn't look away, wondering at the deep concern she saw there. Was something actually wrong? Why was he looking at her like that?

The waitress's "Of course," seemed to break the wall of silence that had afflicted the restaurant. The murmur of conversation and clatter of dishware obscured that quiet, pointedly polite discussion from her hearing.

She turned her attention back to her food and took a big bite. Whatever was going on, it wasn't any of her business.

Yamato cleared his throat, blinking for the first time in what seemed like several minutes. "Ah. So, do you have any hobbies?"

Reading pornography. Small-time drug smuggling. Being the unwilling subject of an ocular fetish.

'No, none of that gives quite the right impression. I don't want him to think badly of me.'

"Amateur art critic."

His eyebrows shot straight up, composure lost.

Aiko kept a straight face. "Just last week, I reviewed the most unfortunate antique piece of statuary." She paused deliberately. "It was accidentally maliciously destroyed."

'That part, I don't regret, no matter how cranky the Hokage is about me releasing demons on our allies. I wouldn't ever do it again; too dangerous.' She paused. 'I mean, if I could teleport to safety like Obito, I would break that statue that over and over again. I would do that to a soundtrack and commission someone to take photos. The whole situation was deeply funny.'

She took a moment to picture herself posing next to two bijuu making a peace sign while ugly pottery fell around them like confetti. Just Aiko and her basics. No big.

'I'm going to regret the missed opportunity for the rest of my life, aren't I?'

The tension seeped out of his shoulders when she couldn't help but smile. He was probably under the mistaken impression that she had been telling a joke, but Aiko was willing to let it go. The only thing interrupting the moment was quiet coughing from a table behind her.

"Pity," Yamato said gravely, lifting his glass in a solemn toast to lost statuary.

The rest of her day was a bit of an emotional let-down. Konoha didn't want to get rid of her. They wanted to help her be the best she could be. The positivity and general goodwill wafting in her direction was sickening.

'If this is how Konoha treats people like me, maybe I should have been leery about the pretty boy. He must be a baby kicking lunatic. I mean, what do you have to do in this town to get a little fear and respect?'

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Shizune eyed her dubiously but walked along, only pausing to offer a polite bow to the frowning psychologist who had stood to watch Aiko stalk out, oversized shirt billowing behind her. Her lips thinned.

'She wanted me to re-examine my feelings and share them. It was that bad.'

She kicked off her slippers and shoved her feet into the terminally ugly blue sandals that Yamato had helped her find without pausing, throwing open the door. It was probably for the best that she didn't see Shizune exchange an amused look with the receptionist behind her.

"Perhaps you'll like the shinobi psychologist better," Shizune offered with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

Aiko wilted at the reminder that she would be subjected to two different weekly appointments. There would be no escape, judging by the calm way her minder had shuffled her off to her first appointment.

'I underestimated Shizune. She's formidable. Why did I ever think that the Hokage was the probable threat?'

With that newfound resentment in mind, it was easier not to dissolve into a weeping pile of nerves while she waited outside the Hokage's office for her next appointment. When the door finally opened and she was shooed in, no one came out.

Apparently, the small crowd inside was going to lurk around while she had her interview. Lovely. Jiraiya-sama was there again, no big surprise. The other man present, on the other hand-

She nodded without making eye contact when Hatake raised a hand in greeting.

Fucking fantastic. There was no door to shut this time. She'd have to deal.

"Aiko, please make yourself comfortable." Under the Hokage's gaze, she didn't have the nerve to plop down on the same couch as last time. She backed against the side wall that Hatake wasn't at, wishing she could be anywhere else.

No one offered comment or let on to whatever thoughts they must have about her behaving like a trapped animal.

"I know you talked with Inoichi-san about your time with the Uchiha and Akatsuki." Godaime-Hottie tapped her pen against the desk in a slow staccato. "But I'd like to hear more, if you don't mind. The Akatsuki is largely disbanded, but if we don't act, Akatsuki will just be reformed with different nin."

"Obito is stubborn like that," Aiko agreed, using a sandal to scratch at the back of a calf. It took a moment to realize that everyone in the office was looking at her just a little too intensely. Hatake- no, Bakashi, 'Bakashi' made him seem much less threatening- seemed to desperately want to say something, but the Hokage got there first.

"You mean Madara," Tsunade corrected gently.

Aiko tried so, so hard not to roll her eyes because now was not the time for sass. "I think I know who I spent a year with, thanks. Madara is dead," she clipped out.

'Thank kami. If that's where Obito got his nutty plan, it's probably for the best that the old guy is gone.'

Bakashi shifted his weight. "He survived the fight with the Shodaime." His tone was carefully neutral. "To what end, we don't know, but he must have some plan."

"Right." At her easy acquiescence, the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief just a little early. "He survived his fight with the hokage, and then he died, like a decade or two ago," Aiko said sensibly. That was still very old, but still. "I never asked for the timeline because frankly I didn't care and still don't, but he's super dead."

Above her head, Bakashi and Jiraiya exchanged troubled looks that they obviously thought she didn't see. She twitched at the condescending snub, one hand curling into a fist. The other grazed her thigh. There still wasn't a weapon there. They still didn't trust her with one. They didn't even trust her situational assessment and ability to remember what she'd been told; why would they arm her?

'What is the point in talking to these people if they don't believe what I say?' The only thing that kept her from stomping her foot was the vaguely conscious notion that acting childishly wouldn't convince anyone that she knew what she was talking about.

"Aiko," Jiraiya said gently. Far too gently. He sounded like he was talking to a child.

'I'm going to go home and burn all your stupid autographed books. I take back ever thinking you were cool.'

Somehow it hurt more when she remembered that she couldn't even do that. Her books were with Obito. She couldn't go home.

Her former warrior-poet idol looked at her with soulful eyes and let out an exhalation that seemed to shrink his enormous chest. "I'm sorry, but Uchiha Madara used that name to deceive you. Uchiha Obito is long dead. He was a casualty of the third war, and a loyal Konoha shinobi. He wouldn't have done what this man has. Uchiha Madara is using his body as a vessel. For Konoha's sake, he needs to be found. If there's anything of Obito left in there, we owe him our best efforts to free his soul so he can rest in peace." Counter to what he must have intended, his tone only sharpened her temper.

'Sentimental drivel. You sound like my freaking shrink.'

She bit her tongue and took a steadying breath, too frustrated to come up with a logical rebuttal at the moment. "Look," Aiko tried with patience she did not feel. "I spent a lot of time with him. I know him."

"Which is why you ran away from him," Jiraiya rebutted, frustration slipping into the rumble of his voice. "He's a dangerous man. You know that, Aiko. You can't protect him."

"I'm not trying to!" She could feel heat rising in her cheeks to match Jiraiya's moue of stubborn frustration. "But he's not evil. He's- he's unbalanced," Aiko stressed. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "He means well." Even she knew that was a losing argument, and her voice trailed off to nothingness. No one in the office looked the slightest bit sympathetic. Hatake looked like he might be ill if she kept trying to argue that his genin teammate was an international terrorist. Tsunade seemed more concerned for her mental well-being. If she kept arguing, Aiko was going to find herself back in Inoichi's tender care.

'They're not going to believe me.'

The irony of that took a moment to sink in. 'They think that I'm saying this because I'm emotionally compromised. Even if I wasn't, they wouldn't want to believe me because it's much easier to believe Uchiha Madara would be a villain than Obito. That's the emotional blockade getting in the way of communication.'

Of course, he wasn't a villain. Not exactly. He was ill and he needed help or to be put down and he might end up killing her but- but-

To be fair, from their perspective, his actions looked pretty fucking villainous. And if some chump tried to tell her that the man who had kidnapped them wasn't that bad, Aiko would think that person had Stockholm's syndrome, not a good point worth consideration.

Just a little bit of doubt tugged at her mind. What if- what if she never had known anyone but Madara? When she looked at it all that way, it seemed like her perception was the one likely to be skewed.

Aiko wrapped her arms around her chest and looked down at her feet, shaken and unwilling to argue anymore. If she couldn't trust her judgment… Did she even know anything?

'No. That was Obito. I know it in my gut. He's a lot of things, but he's got a core that's really genuine. Someone hurt him and twisted him and he needs help, but he's not a villain. He wouldn't have come up with the idea of putting everyone in a genjutsu on his own. And he didn't falsify they way he felt about his genin team. There would be no reason to tell me anything like that if he was Madara.'

"Aiko?" An oversized hand closed gently on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I yelled, kiddo."

"It's fine," she said mechanically, shaking off Jiraiya-sama's comforting grip. "What do you want to know?" The step she took had her back pressed against the wall. Thankfully, the toad sannin did not follow.

"Inoichi gave us what you know about active members of Akatsuki and contacts." The Hokage gracefully called all attention to herself, glamorous and composed. She blinked perfectly curled lashes. "Thank you for that, Aiko-chan."

(Chan? She tried not be bitter that she'd apparently been down-graded to a child.)

Tsunade stood, fluffing her hair as she turned to the window. "How many safehouses are you aware of? Could you locate them on a map?"

Aiko would have nodded, if the woman was looking at her. Instead she let out a sullen, "Four, yes."

'Not that it matters. Obito won't stay at any of them now. He's not stupid.'

The older woman must have had the same thought. She clasped her hands behind her back and ducked her head slightly. Her voice was lower when it came again. "Do you have any idea about what Uchiha's next course of action will be?"

"He didn't tell me much about his plans." Aiko wiggled her toes, tired of standing. "I didn't ask. I didn't care much. He wants- wanted," she corrected. "He wanted to collect all the bijuu and put them in his ugly statue and then use them to power a world-wide genjutsu."

Jiraiya gave a surprised curse, nearly dropping the kunai he had been balancing on a finger.

Slowly, Tsunade turned around to stare. "A world-wide genjutsu." Her voice was flat.

"I thought the plan could use some work," Aiko acknowledged easily. "Though to be fair, it's a hand-me-down plan from Madara."

Bakashi tensed, fingers drumming against his thigh.

The Hokage ignored her pointed reminder, glossing over their disagreement entirely. "You said this was a plan in the past tense?"

Aiko grimaced. "I may have taken bad advice from that Fuu woman and broken his statue. That's part of why he was pissed with me. It made a mess." She made an expansive gesture, shaking her head. "Rocks and bijuu everywhere."

Something broke when Jiraiya slapped his palm against the wall, falling to the floor before Aiko could see what it was. "What."

She stilled, uncertain about the sudden tension. Cautiously, she inclined her head slightly and eyed the adults. Her hand itched for a weapon that she still didn't have.

Damn, Jiraiya was close. And big. And the other two people in the room were S class shinobi. She was suddenly hyperaware of that.

Sensing her confusion, Hatake raised his palms in a gesture of peace. "We didn't know that was how the bijuu got out."

Tension was replaced by befuddlement. "What, really?" Aiko blinked.

'Oh my kami, they must really not think of me as a threat. I was the only person there. It shouldn't be shocking that I was involved in that.'

"Of course not," Godaime-Hottie said dryly. "I am suddenly thankful that the Suna representatives left. That gives us time to think of a plausible lie."

Aiko snorted, giving the blonde woman a thin smile for the first time.

'Not really. The jinchuuriki from Mizu and Taki both know. They were there right before I did it. It'd be hard to keep both of them quiet, and it's probably too late already.'

"But not that much time," Tsunade-Hottie continued, caution bleeding into her tone. "We have a lot to do, Aiko." She raised an eyebrow as one hand skimmed over to rest on her hip. "Are you aware of the upcoming trial of the Amegakure leader?"

"Something about breaking an international treaty?" Aiko rubbed the back of her neck. "I wasn't that interested."

"Get interested," Tsunade said bluntly, pointing a pen at her. "You're our star witness."

"Say what?"

Preview of the next chapter, where the tone changes a bit. Because people have probably been wondering what the fuck happened to Naruto.

Chapter 18

"Hey, Aiko!"

She halted mid-step in the lower lobby at a very loud, slightly raspy voice. The boy who'd come bounding out of the crowd was grinning toothily, pulling a one-handled bag off his shoulders.

"Hold up a minute, would you?" He didn't wait for a response, plopping the bag down and unzipping it in one motion. "I'm supposed to- I have your stuff," he amended, talking hastily. He scrunched up his nose in unconscious irritation with the strands of blonde hair that were hanging down into his eyes.

"You have my things?" Aiko repeated cautiously, frowning.

'Why does he have my things?'

"Yeah, I think baa-chan forgot," he said absently, pulling out a very familiar bit of red leather.

"My holster?" Aiko reached out, somehow unsurprised when he placed it in her hand without looking. In the work of a few moments she had it strapped on- no one had fiddled with the straps, so it was already fitted correctly.

"Yeah, I think there's some kunai and senbon in here too." With a careless clatter, the boy tipped the bag and collected the weapons that fell out. Someone had bound them together and polished them- they'd need to be unwrapped.

'This is strange, but… okay? I think it's okay.'

"Thanks," she said. She took the first package and began unraveling it, packing the freed weapons away. "So, um, you know my name…"

He flushed. "I'm Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto."

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, her fingers fumbled. A flash of pain was the only thing that told her she'd managed to cut her index finger on a bare blade.

'Uzumaki. That's my last name. He looks roughly my age. Obito said that there was only one other Uzumaki child in Konoha when the last jinchuuriki died and- and-'

She clenched her hand into a fist, pressing the leaking finger into her palm to stop the bleeding.

Dear kami, that was a jinchuuriki right there, not two feet away from her. Her heart jolted unpleasantly. A jinchuuriki, meaning a person who had another one of those bijuu in him.

A familiar acidic tang prickled in her nose and the feeling of dry heat, of slowly baking alive washed over her flesh. Fear. Helpless. Insignificant.

On some level, her mind was whimpering helplessly.

Did it- no he, she'd decided jinchuuriki were people- did he know that she'd helped kill jinchuuriki before? Was he holding a grudge? Was he-

He was awfully familiar. Actually.

"I think I know you," Aiko said carefully, giving a smile that she did not feel. "From the orphanage, right?"

For a moment, his face was very still. Then it cracked into a painfully bright smile, accompanied by a thumbs-up. "Yupp! We lived together up until we were fifteen or so."

'That's a long time.'

"Oh." Her mouth was dry. "That's nice. You, um." She fumbled for words, torn between wanting to be very polite and wanting to escape.

'Someone wants me to like him and to associate him with safety. That's why he's the person who gave me back my equipment. That's not a coincidence. Why does Konoha care? What do they want?'

"Want to get lunch?" Naruto asked hopefully, shouldering his deflated bag. "I'm heading out on a mission later today and I didn't pack a lunch, 'ttebayo."

God no. Never.

"Yeah. That sounds nice." Aiko forced leaden feet to move, keeping pace with Naruto's strides toward the door.

'He's related to me somehow. Probably pretty closely, since we share a last name and there are few Uzumaki. Should I ask? Is he emotionally compromised? He seems friendly. I don't think he's registered me as a threat.'

The place he took her to was a dinky ramen bar that had quite possibly survived an invasion or two, judging by the dents and pointedly fresh paint. A pretty serving girl greeted both of them –by name, that was so freaky- and immediately set to work on their order. As she walked away, Aiko curled her toes against the bar under her stool and looked at the counter.

They weren't the only patrons—an older couple was sitting further down, the taller man feeding his protesting boyfriend tonkatsu with a laugh. The other patrons seemed to be too busy to take a full lunch hour- while they waited on their order, no less than three people came by to pick up 'to-go' orders.

"Hey." Naruto looked as uncomfortable as she felt, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye. "You alright?" He leaned slightly into her personal space to push her bowl down to her and- and-

That was a familiar scent. She eyed his vibrantly yellow hair, noticing a tiny braid peeking out from under his right ear. Other than that bit of order, it was a riotous mass. It was rather like how hers might be, if it wasn't long enough for truly exciting tangles to form.

"What shampoo do you use?"

Naruto blinked, face blank. "Uh. Cloves and something else. I just use what Karin buys me."

Aiko hmmed, breaking her chopsticks apart and fiddling with them. "Gotcha. So, um. A walrus?"

That appeared to utterly confound him. A noodle slipped out the side of his mouth.

Oddly, that helped. It was hard to feel intimidated by someone with food coming out of their mouth. He tilted his head and licked futilely at the soup escaping down his chin, blue eyes straining and failing to see the mess. "Your sleeping hat," she explained. "Someone gave it to me." Aiko shrugged. "I recognize your scent. I'm guessing that wasn't you?"

Naruto snorted and clapped a hand to his face to prevent any more liquid from escaping. He took a moment to laboriously swallow his enormous mouthful of food. "Socially challenged bastard," he mumbled, sounding fond. "No, um." His voice raised. "That wasn't me. It was meant to be helpful, I'm sure."

She didn't have anything to say, so she stuffed the boiled egg that had come with her meal into her mouth. Her eyes watered almost instantly. Hot. Her bowl was too hot. As soon as she had swallowed, Aiko grabbed for her water.

"How are you doing?" Naruto burst out in a rush of air. He glanced at her under his bangs and then jerked his gaze back to the countertop.

"Um." Aiko set down her chopsticks and interlocked her fingers on her lap. "I'm fine." In a moment of uncharacteristic honesty, she stared into the depths of her ramen bowl and admitted, "This just feels surreal. You know? Like this last week is a weird dream and I'm about to wake up."

Naruto nodded slowly, licking off his chopsticks. "But not a bad dream, right?"

She hesitated. "It's not a good dream, but it's not exactly puppets and zombies either."

"Well… I'm glad to hear that, I guess." He flashed a smile at her, holding a hand up to signal for another bowl. The waitress must have been expecting that because she quickly fluttered over to switch out bowls. "It'll get better. You're staying with Shizune-chan, ne?"

"Mm," Aiko nodded. "Yepp. She's alright. Kinda strict, though." Her intuition had been right the first day, when she had thought that Shizune would be difficult to budge on the whole 'mental health care' thing. There was just no arguing with that woman.

Naruto gave a surprised laugh, interrupted in the middle of blowing on his ramen to cool it. "If she wasn't, we wouldn't get anything done," he shared mischievously. "Baa-chan is crazy smart and cool and stuff, but she lacks in organizational thought. Shizune-chan makes sure the day to day stuff gets done."

'…Wait. Is 'Baa-chan' the Hokage?'

Her lips twitched. Maybe she could see them being related. That nickname was flippantly inappropriate enough that she sort of wished she'd come up with it. The analysis of the power in Konoha, on the other hand, she stored away for later consideration. Naruto might have a pretty good gauge of his Hokage's character.

The boy in question gave an obscene slurp, polishing off his second bowl. Aiko glanced down at her ramen. It was still nearly full. Feeling mildly guilty for her slowness, she diligently picked through the mushrooms and pork belly, ignoring the greens.

"I need to go soon." Naruto frowned up at the position of the sun, waiting for his third bowl. "Can I get the check with this one?" The waitress gave him an indulgent smile and whirled away, smelling like flour and fresh dough.

Aiko didn't even pretend to look for her wallet. He was paying. She didn't have any money.

"I should be back in a week." Naruto gave her a nervous glance through his lashes, fiddling with a worn coin purse. "Want to do this again?"

The moment struck her as very awkward, in a sinking way.

'Wait. Was this a date?' She opened her mouth to ask, and then nodded silently instead. She didn't want to make an ass out of herself by misinterpreting the situation.

He grinned, counting out a hefty tip and exchanging cheek kisses over the counter with the ramen girl. A girlfriend, maybe? "Great!" Naruto chirped, waggling his fingers at the pretty brunette. She was already drifting away to take another order. "Have fun, yeah? Oh man, I'm gonna be late." He slipped off his stool and moved to push open the fabric veiling the stand from the street, tossing her one last blinding grin. "See ya!"

#vapors #uzumaki aiko #electrasev5n #ninja daily #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #clarity

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foxslutsworld · 2 years ago

Text

A Line Without a-

Rating: M

Relationship: M/F (breakup)

Warnings: Fake relationship, internalized homophobia, referenced loss, uncomfortable kiss.

Mordecai meets a familiar face ass he tries to recover from his previous lost love. Part of the series I'm writing with @silver-heller.

Read It On Ao3

It was two years or so after the incident when he first met her again. One of the few women he’d had the misfortune to be forced to dance with, upon Mitzi’s insistence, that is. It had been a small mercy he hadn’t met her up until that point, finding himself at the outskirts of The Lackadaisy when a quaint yet quiet voice spoke up.

“Oh, hi Mordecai,” she said, followed by the sound of pearls being messed with.

He turned to see the type of woman only depicted on the silver screen. With her big, round, bedazzled eyes and her plump lips, she had the sort of pouty look which had started to become popular, at the time. That is to say, the type of woman any man would be proud to court or be courted by.

And, yet, Mordecai found his reaction to seeing her again was no different from when their initial meeting. His heart didn’t flutter, his palms didn’t become sweaty, and his tail didn’t even swoosh in either excitement or anxiety.

The most that he felt was annoyance that his usual, thoughtful observations had once again been interrupted.

Although Mordecai raised an eyebrow at her greeting, the rest of his face remained the same.

“If you’re going to ask me to dance again, I think we both know it’s not worth it. It’d be best for the both of us if I didn’t.”

She shook her head, causing the earrings at her sides to wobble.

“Oh! Well, that’s okay. To be honest, I don’t mind just standing and talking either so,” she said, finding a spot beside him and doing just that.

She fell silent as she looked on out at the party. Mordecai would usually do the same, but his eyes were trapped on her. This elusive ghost from his past that had so casually strolled over, and decided to rest beside him like a lamppost. She looked back over, fidgeting in her heels.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?”

He stuck his head up, teeth pressing together as he suppressed the “Y” dancing on his tongue.

“No. I’m just surprised you still want to talk to me after that incident is all,” Mordecai said, eyeing her once more.

Even though he still didn’t see the point in dancing, seeing it as nothing more than a frivolous excuse to waste energy, he hadn’t meant to come off as cold as he did during their initial meeting.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked down at her necklace.

“Right. Well, it did hurt me when I thought you had rejected me, but, after I realized the misunderstanding, I felt bad. Especially when I got so caught up in winning you over I ended up pressuring you into something you found uncomfortable. So, I’m sorry.”

Mordecai tilted his head, though his ears remained pointed forward. Suddenly the ongoing party became less interesting to him, the real puzzle standing just beside him.

“You don’t mind that I don’t enjoy dancing? Correct me if I’m wrong but, by most standards, I believe that would be considered unattractive .”

She shook her head with a hum.

“No. I mean, the most important thing is the type of person you are, right? I think we got off on the wrong foot, so, if you ever want to do something you’d be more comfortable with, I’d be willing. But only if you want to, of course!” she said, the necklace becoming more intermingled with her paw as she spoke.

The final song came to a resounding end, the dancing bodies stopping to clap as the band took their last few bows for the night.

Her head shifted there, though Mordecai’s eyes never left her, trained on his target with sharp vision and an ever-shifting tail.

“Oh, I guess I should get going, huh?”

She fished through her purse for a moment, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. She pressed the latter up on the wall, writing something down. The whole while Mordecai watched her with wide eyes.

“Here’s my number,” she said, slipping it into his top pocket with a small smile, “And my name is Irene, by the way.”

She gave him a subtle courtesy before rejoining her friends. Mordecai was just left frozen in place against the wall, gaping after her. This really is like the movies , he thought to himself. And so, the reel began.

The next few months were spent learning more about her…when Mordecai had the free time to do so. They would go to all the classic spots, the theater, the park, the local shops, and even the cafe, every now and again.

“Wow, this place is lovely. I didn’t realize you’d frequent this kind of joint. I took you as more the serious type,” she said, looking around with a smile that he returned.

“Looks can be deceiving. Besides, the waffles here are quite good,” he said, sticking his head up with a proud expression, “Did you know you can use the holes in waffles to calculate matrix math? It’s quite the entertaining hobby.”

She snorted, causing what felt like a millennium's worth of memories to swirl from their resting place, filling his mind with dust .

“I should have known you’d say that,” she leaned closer to him from her chair, “So, tell me more about this place.”

Tell me about yourself.

It even got to the point where he thought it appropriate for her to meet Viktor. Mordecai walked into the garage one morning, telling her to wait outside while he “settled a few things”.

He’d given Viktor the sternness of expressions, whole face crumpling up as he stood overhead.

“Now, before you see her, Viktor, can I ask you a small favor?” Mordecai said, causing Viktor to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Vhat?”

“Could you tone down your, how do I put this, intensity just a tad?” Mordecai said, placing his paws together, “Irene is a very sensitive woman, and I don’t want you scaring her with your usual gruffness .”

Viktor let out a huff. He stood from where he was working on a car hood to give Mordecai a dismissive paw wave.

“Any ‘voman’ you’re datin’ should be able to handle it just fine,” Viktor said, crossing his arms, “Naow, out with it already. I vant to see vho you’ve been spendin’ so much time with.”

Mordecai bit his lip, studying the man. However, after a moment of consideration, Viktor not budging despite his looks, he tilted his head to call back.

“Irene! You can come in now!”

That shy head poked in, round eyes becoming even rounder at what she saw. When Mordecai offered her his paw, she stumbled toward it as if it was the last lifeboat on a ship. She hid partially behind Mordecai, looking out at the muscular, wild-looking cat that did nothing to hide the height difference.

He was too stunned to, smile falling and eye filling with confusion as he took in Mordecai’s so-called “partner”.

“Viktor, meet Irene. Irene, meet Viktor.”

Viktor shot her an open mouth smile, showing off his canines and offering her his still rather musty paw. Mordecai had to stop his whole neck from contracting just looking at it.

“The pleasure is mine.”

She just took it with a grimace, a shiver running down her spine.

“I-it’s nice to meet you too…”

Concerning first introductions at least, Mordecai thought this was one of the better out of the bunch for Viktor. At least she hadn’t run away screaming or crying, or something. Instead, as they walked off, she concluded with a small, “your friends sure are interesting,” with the rise in her voice he’d taken to mean she was uncomfortable .

Of course, remaining with the Lackadaisy crew, who knew his history just as well as they knew their liquor, would lead to some…comments. Concerns, and the like.

Mordecai stood from the counter, slamming his paws down on it. It was after hours, and so, the glance he received from said action had dwindled down to one.

“First Viktor, and now you ? I don’t get it, Mitzi. You encourage me to move on and then, the moment I do, you and everyone else find a paraphrenia of problems with it,” he ran a paw through his hair, “Am I missing something? Some sign I was supposed to take that as sarcasm, or just some friendly lie in order to spare my feelings?”

“No one is saying you can’t move on, sugar. We’re just questioning how you’re moving on. I mean, going from a wildcard like Silver to a tame little thing like Irene just doesn’t suit you, dear,” she said, biting her lip and taking a step back.

Mordecai’s tail went rigid behind him, fangs gritted.

“And how do you know what suits me, Mitzi? You didn’t even know about us until just before Silver…”

His snarl fell, replaced with a deep frown and the furrowing of his brows.

“That’s how most people learned about it, actually.”

Mitzi raised her hands up in defeat, watching as Mordecai’s paws gradually slipped down.

“Our hearts can be fragile, you know. So you shouldn’t court her unless you’re absolutely sure of yourself. That’s all I’m saying. You would know your own feelings better than anyone, of course.”

As she walked away, disappearing into the backroom, Mordecai’s anger melted as he collapsed onto the counter. His ears went down and he shifted to let his forehead rest against the cool stone.

“What am I doing?” he whispered to himself.

He looked down at his watch as its shine caught the light. It’d only be a couple of hours until he’d see her again. He banged his head against the counter.

These were the events that lead up to that fateful night down at the Lackadaisy. The party was in full swing the way it always was, yet, those two could be found nowhere among those busybodies.

Instead, they were tucked away in the storage closet, where it was quiet and they could be alone . They’d received a few looks heading that way, with the additional murmur of encouragement or wink here and there. This is just like the movies , he thought; the adventurous couple breaking into where they weren’t wanted, giggling and laughing all the while.

“M-Mordecai, slow down,” Irene said as she tripped on one of the many pebbles scattered on the ground.

The music from the party slowly faded, replaced by the ambiance of the cavern as they went deeper inside its many passages. Mordecai’s paws kept slipping.

By the time they’d made it to the storage room, and he had turned to her, he was panting and his head was spinning.

Her eyes widened, tail swirling behind her as she looked deeply into his eyes. He could relax now, the hard work had been done for him, he just needed to let it all slide into place.

“Did you have something in mind when you brought me here, Mordecai,” she asked, stepping closer with that smile. Teasing, though shy all the same with the subtle pull of her lips to the sides.

Her heat was contagious, infecting his whole body as his skin was set ablaze.

“Well, I just…”

He’d act skittish, letting his inexperience show so she’d chuckle and take the lead.

“All you had to do was ask, you know.”

His eyelids closed shut as her mouth approached his, ears quivering as he could so faintly hear the party in the distance. It became louder and louder, as if beckoning to him, begging him to pull away, and return as if nothing had happened at all. Roll credits.

Was this what attraction looked like? Felt like? He experienced it very rarely before, and yet…he never remembered it being this nauseating.

Before he could change his mind, his fate was sealed.

Lips touched lips, fur brushed against fur, and all at once he was hit with a wave of disgust . For the first time, he was realizing how atrocious lips were. Wet abominations kept captive with one’s nose, so much so that one could not be brushed without the other. His own was thrown straight into the scent of her perfume, nose wiggling with the beginnings of a sneeze. Her whiskers tickled his cheeks, just reminding him of their true closeness and forcing that visual into his head.

Yet, his mind didn’t linger on that, instead, listing off all the things he would be doing straight after. Or, preferably, would be doing instead of smashing snouts with some woman he’d met at the club one day, whose description in his mind would always begin and end with just that, and nothing more.

He pulled away from the kiss and, looking at her, the film reel in his head had been melted completely. There were no rose-tinted glasses, no butterflies in his stomach, or the sudden igniting of a flame deep inside of him. Any future they had was lost to the flames entirely, leaving Mordecai to stare at the blank screen.

In front of him was a woman. A beautiful woman, a woman with plenty of charm and class, who’d done her best to understand his little quirks.

But, still. At the end of the day, she was just that.

"That…it didn't feel right," Mordecai said, stumbling back as he just processed this.

His head had become partially tucked into his collar at the scene in front of him, feeling like an actor that just stumbled upon the wrong set.

"D-did I do something wrong? I'll admit I'm not very accustomed to kissing, it's not something I make a habit of."

He gestured wildly as he spoke and she shuffled with her bag. The dripping of the cavern filled his head.

"Maybe I messed up? I’m not used to it either, so" she suggested, shame filling those eyes.

But Mordecai shook his head, straightening himself out.

"No I-I don't think that's it."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, letting out a breath. He cycled through all the people he had ever loved, and the pattern had become clear. It had always been clear, but oh did he crave that same sweetness to make its way across her lips.

"It's me. It’s always just… me .”

She considered this for a moment, tan fur looking bright against the dark brown of the walls.

"You're not attracted to me, are you?" She asked, eyes lifting up to his.

Her fingers fell from the clasp of her bag as he slowly nodded.

"I don't believe so. I thought I could be but…I apologize, my head is all messed up right now. I'm not certain how to explain this."

He gritted his teeth, the ambient buzzing of the place driving him mad. Suddenly, he’d do anything to be back at that party, standing by the outskirts all by himself as he just let the usual hum and music of the place drift him away.

He put his hand on his heart, letting out a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry, Irene. In our time apart a lot has happened. To me, specifically. I suppose, when you still found me attractive despite that little incident between us, I got desperate. I wanted to be understood again. I just let that get out of hand,” Mordecai said, hanging his head low, “I’m sorry.”

She sniffled, body tensing, and tail wrapping around her legs. She brought her paw up to wipe at her eyes.

“I understand.”

She said this, yet there were tears in her eyes. She spun around as she felt them, running off and leaving Mordecai with one final message.

“I have to go."

He didn’t stop her, ears going down and letting out yet another hefty sigh.

Mordecai hadn’t seen Irene since.

He’d collapsed down on the floor, for once, not minding the filth when he heard it. The echoing of a cane on the cavern floor, sounding so crisp now and causing his ears to shift there. Through the light, he could see that figure’s shadow stretched out along the stone wall, drawing nearer and nearer. Yet, he didn’t move, his own shadow stagnant.

A couple of months had rushed by him as if they were only a couple of weeks, and he found himself lost on a deserted island with little more than a clue as to how he got there. Whatever was gripping him had been released, allowing him to breathe, slow down, and take in the scent of illegal alcohol all around him.

His eyes flicked over as the footsteps stopped, revealing a familiar tabby standing by the entrance. He kept his face tempered, inspecting Mordecai’s eyes before speaking.

“Still trying to fill that hole, I see,” Atlas said, looking back where Irene had once been before shifting his entire focus on Mordecai and Mordecai alone.

Mordecai sat up, narrowing his eyes, and clawing at his tie to give himself some more air. His eyebrows had fallen, eyelids attempting but unsuccessfully holding their weight.

“And? Where have you been all this time?”

His voice sounded sharp in his ears, jumping at the noise that had become nothing more than a distant melody, even to himself, recreated again. Atlas merely raised an eyebrow, frame stretched to tower over the other man.

“I’ve been busy.”

He walked over without further explanation, kneeling down and looking Mordecai straight in the eyes. Mordecai froze as Atlas’ vision pierced through him, an explanation dying on his lips at the sensation.

“So you’ve finally woken up, haven’t you, Heller?”

#mordecai heller fanfic #mordecai heller fic #self shipping #self ship fic #canon divergence #yet another mordecai writing session inspired by Line Without a Hook

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