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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years ago

Note

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party. His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo. If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend. The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her. Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment. Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings. Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit. Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room. Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three. Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended. She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this. “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over. We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here. Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again. “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down. Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes. “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing? Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

************

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips. So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully. He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over. “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.” Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket. “That…” He tilts his champagne flute to point. “…is a canopy. Or a chuppah, I guess. Canopee. Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says. And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?” Ax frowns. And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth. “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints. “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed. Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train. Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs. She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand. Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes. “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man. You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night. Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar? Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system. You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over. “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks. “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says. “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him. He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests. «By the way, where’s your date? Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says. “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet. You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands. “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.” Marco flips his hair back from his face. “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air. “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing? She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says. “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers. “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air. “It’s a free pre-dinner show! Cow birth. Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause. Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that. Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees. This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.” Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground. “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go. “You told me not to let it drag on the ground. If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie. That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements. There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle. The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation. «Kind of.»

“How…?” Rachel peers closer at Cassie. “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed. “Uh, inside somewhere. I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!” Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias. With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch. “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.” Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. “I don’t really do heels. Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh. Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead? Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed? Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly. “I think it’s a very nice dress. It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!” She tucks her hands away. “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks. “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

“Uh. I’ll try.” Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep. So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

**************

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots. The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win. The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement. And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline. He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo. Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand. Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand. “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi. Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle. Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.” Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back. “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony. The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today. We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle. Marco does his best not to smirk at her. It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.” Ax stares around the room. “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two. I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California. Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe. Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering. After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over. They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny. But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything. Very Cassie. Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call. When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle. Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go. That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed. Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet. Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet. That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does. She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready. Dance floor is clear of grass. Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls. “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup. Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again. Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles. The camera goes off.

“Okay.” Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception. “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find. When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom. It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie. They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax. And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away. She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly. They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass. “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table. “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him. At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand. “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?” Marco looks around the room, grinning. “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business. And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…” He leans in. “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line. ‘You wanna be my best friend?’ So I’m like…” Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock. “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger. You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible? I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room. Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?” Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret. “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend. I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…” He raises his eyebrows. “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…” Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice. “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter. Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says. “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since. So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question. She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up. “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out. “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing. So I tell her.” He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self. “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause. Marco glances around the room. “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other. Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls. “It turns into a rock. Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing. And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco. Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco? Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’ As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.” Marco takes a sip for strength. “And right then, I look at Jake. And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go. Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you. So here’s to Jake and Cassie. Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy. I love you, Jean!” he calls. “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.” Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie. “I didn’t think we’d get here. I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures. Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know? Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s. Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.” Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air. “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table. “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.” Tom stops, directly next to Cassie. “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be. So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once. The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.” Several people mob Jake at once. Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance. Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James. Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up. The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them. Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.” Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant. “Okay. If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.” Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table. Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle. It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.” Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all perfect.” He’s smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says. “It’s all fine. Because you made it that way. So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace. “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye. “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything. All of it. Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie. She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.” Ax leans next to him against the bar. They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others. Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing. The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move. Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder. He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem. Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view. She’s switched partners. Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body. Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards. Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor. Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down. They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight. There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield. There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor. Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well. Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step. Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her. When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz. They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar. It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him. She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them. Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked. That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop. Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself. He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping. Marco sweeps into a low bow. Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it. Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor. She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness. But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor. Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder. With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand. «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #(sadly)#long post #weddings #jake/cassie #cake #alcohol mention #rachel berenson #is the canonically biggest cassie/jake shipper on the planet #do it for her #anonymous #asks

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fckinsupreme · 4 years ago

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26 and 27 with dumb babey Xavier pls 🤗

“Babe! Can you come here a second?”

You grin when you hear Xavier’s footsteps approaching your bedroom, just arriving home from one of his auditions. You knew him well enough to know that he needed to blow off some steam after one, and you always had a good plan for it. Knowing that this audition was particularly taxing, you wanted him to do less of the work tonight—and you had a good idea how, exactly, that was going to go.

He steps into the room, wearing the striped shirt and jeans he had worn to his audition. By the look on his face, it went rather well; he was glowing and he had a wide, beatific smile on his lips. But when he sees why you called him into the room, the smile slowly begins to fade, replaced by a frown as a loud whine rips from his throat. He slumps forward a little, his eyes still on the strap-on you held in one hand and the bottle of lube that was in the other.

“But baby,” he whines, groaning as he sits on the edge of the bed. “You always top!”

“I thought maybe I could take some of the pressure off of you tonight,” you say. “Since you had that audition; I know how they can tire you out.”

“I wanna top more,” Xavier says with a pout. “I like it! I miss doing it.”

“How about you be a good boy for me, and you can top me as much as you want?” you say with a smirk, taking a step closer to him. “If you’re good, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. Nothing, and I mean /nothing/, will be off limits. You can fuck me from behind, we can do anal, you can fuck me wherever you want...really, anything you wanna do, it’s yours.”

He shivers, whimpering a little as he squirms. You can see a visible bulge in the front of his pants, and know he’s already getting hard. “Can we have sex in the van? I’ve always wanted to do that with you.”

“Mmm hmm,” you say, dropping to your knees in front of him as you set the items on the bed. “Anything. I’ll even sit on your face with the van doors open for anyone to see us, if that’s what you want.”

“Fuck,” Xavier says, nodding rapidly as he removes his shirt. You place your mouth over the erection straining in his jeans, causing him to moan huskily. “Okay, you can top me again. Just this once.”

“That didn’t take much convincing,” you tease, nodding toward his pants. “Finish stripping for me, then lie back on the bed.”

He gets to his feet at once, shaky hands working his belt loose before he strips his jeans & boxers. He lies back as he’s told, watching as you pump his cock in long, rapid strokes. Your tongue flicks the tip of his cock, before dragging along the slit to collect the precum that’s already beaded there. His erection is flushed, the veins standing out as he throbs against your palm, his chest already heaving with anticipation. You smile at him, sucking the tip as he whines pleasurably, his hands embedded in your hair as he tries to push you deeper. You shake your head, popping off the grab the dildo from the strap. You rub the tip of it over his hole, and he snaps back against the pillows with a needy mewl. You begin sucking his cock again, but only move halfway down as the dildo circles the rim of his ass. Xavier moans above you, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to rut further into your throat. Arousal pools in your panties, and you get an idea as you move off of him yet again.

“No, please don’t stop,” he begs.

“I have an idea, Xavy,” you say, running a finger over one of his V-lines. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Tell me.”

“How about I suck your cock while you eat my pussy?” you suggest, licking his balls as he groans appreciatively. “We could kill two birds with one stone, and I could fuck you a lot sooner.”

Xavier whines again, looking at you with a deep pout. “But why can’t we just continue doing it like this? You know how much I love watching you blow me.”

“I do,” you say, your tongue tracing the biggest vein on his cock. “But I know how much /you/ love eating me out. I also know how big of a fan you are of sixty-nine, so why not?”

“I—“ he begins.

“We’ll make it a game,” you say. “How does that sound? We can do sixty-nine, and we can turn it into a fun kinda game. First one to cum is the loser, and if you win, you can top me as many times as you want from here on out.”

He considers it, then grins as he nods. “Okay, deal. What does the loser get?”

“If you lose, you have to clean my entire apartment wearing nothing but a French maid lingerie ensemble,” you say with a wide smile. “Thigh highs, heels, and all.”

He looks at you with wide eyes, his mouth agape. He swallows after a moment, smirking. “Fine, but if you lose, then you have to do the same thing at /my/ apartment.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me,” you say, holding a hand out for him to shake. He does so, watching as you rise to your feet and strip all of your clothing. His cock visibly twitches as he sees your naked form, and you know this isn’t going to take long or much effort. “Let’s get started, babe.”

Xavier lies flat, and you climb on top of him. You turn so that your pussy is over his face, your own level with his throbbing erection. You can feel him spreading your soaked lips, his tongue immediately dragging through them as you shiver. You take his cock down your throat, moaning as you feel the vibration of his groans against your swollen clit. You swivel your hips teasingly, feeling his body tense as his orgasm approaches. You draw back, spitting on his cock and watching as your saliva trails down the shaft to run over his heavy, full balls. You jerk him off, taking him into your mouth again as you continue pumping his cock. You moan gratefully around him, the feeling of his mouth all over your wet pussy almost too much to handle.

Xavier shakes his head rapidly against your cunt, something that he knows you love. You moan again, pushing against his face as you gush against his tongue. He rubs your clit with his fingers, his mouth exploring your labia and your entrance, his tongue probing inside. He grips you tightly with his free hand, trying to keep you anchored in place and failing as you rotate your hips yet again. You hollow your cheeks around his shaft, bobbing your head quickly as you jerk him off in time with your movements.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to cum, and he does so without warning. His taste floods your mouth, some of it dribbling down his spit-slicked cock as you pop off. He moans through his orgasm, his cock still spurting hot ropes of cum, some of it getting on your neck and chin. Upon the realization of what he’s done, he whines loudly, causing you to get off of him and look at him in amusement.

“You know the rules,” you say happily, trailing a finger down his chest. “It’s what we agreed to.”

“You cheated!” Xavier complains, gazing at you through lusty eyes. “You were moving around and just being way too hot on purpose!”

“Don’t blame me,” you tease, running your tongue along his nipple as he mewls. “You were ready to cum the moment I got naked.”

“Maybe you should stop being so sexy, then,” he says as he bops your nose, sighing a little as you sit next to him. “I hope I can properly fit in that French maid costume.”

“I think you can manage,” you tell him, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead. “No matter what, you’re gonna be able to make it work. But you should really brush up on your cleaning skills, and maybe practice walking in heels.”

Xavier giggles, pulling you down for a hot kiss. When it ends, he cups your cheek in one hand, stroking it with his thumb. A blush darkens his cheeks, and you open your mouth to ask him why when he answers for you. “Can we use the strap? I...You know how I hate it when things go to waste. I don’t wanna waste that moment tonight.”

“Well, since you were so good for me...” you say, reaching for it and putting it on before popping open the lube. You squirt some on your finger, tracing the slick digit around the rim of muscle. “I don’t see why not.”

—————

Baby tags: @littledemondani (just to be sure you get it!) @wroteclassicaly @llangdvns @dark-mei-rose @littlegirlsdontplaynice @melodylangdon @lvngdvns @xavierplympton @xavierplymptons @bitchchatter @duncansshepherd @frenchlangdon @apocalxpsetime @blakewaterxx

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton blurb #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton x reader

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buckymorelikefuckmebarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Fortunate Pt. 10

Masterlist

a/n: its been forever so its totally cool if you hate this now but i have to finish my brain baby. also i lost my tag list so if you want on send me a message...

A few weeks in - A few weeks out

You and Clint had been dating for a few weeks and had spent almost every day of the first week together. But that had cooled down considerably this week. Several days had passed since your last date with Clint. He had texted you a few times but had a potential client from the west coast flying up with their daughter and had been busy with meetings off and on. You and Bucky were falling back into your old routines. He gave you a ride home from the shop on Monday and by Thursday the air around the two of you had completely cleared. You were kicking a bolt across the garage floor as you paced and texted Clint on your phone when Bucky came in carrying lunch.

“Hey. Head out of the clouds Missy. I have food.” Bucky said with a grin spreading on his face.

He tossed a brown paper sack your way and you snagged it before it could hit the ground. “Oooh burgers and fries?” You said with a knowing look on your face.

“Yeah. And a milkshake you ungrateful gnome.” Bucky pulled the drink from behind his back. “Also, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what Bunky?”

“Like you are in on some kind of secret.”

“Like the fact that this food is from Danvers, the restaurant your girl works at.” You winked at him. “Did you get a special discount?”

“I told you a million times already. It’s not like that. Anna Marie is a friend. The date didn’t turn out the way I expected but she’s great either way. So yes I got a discount but no it's not for what you’re thinking.”

You unwrapped the burger and took a bite. “Mhhohmygod.” You moaned around the food as you chewed. “Mthisisofuckunggud.”

Bucky blew his straw paper into your head. “Don’t talk and chew. It’s disgusting.”

You swallowed and stuck out your tongue .

Five hours later you were holding on to Bucky as you wove through traffic to your apartment. He was going to drop you off, give you both time to change and then pick you up so you could meet with everyone for Nat and Steve’s engagement dinner. You had invited Clint but he was still entertaining his potential clients and promised to text you through the evening.

Bucky held the bike's weight as you slipped your leg over the seat. “Thanks Blocky. See you in an hour?”

“Your nicknames are terrible but yes I’ll be back in 60.” He twisted the throttle and wove down the street to his own apartment.

You ran up the steps and unlocked the door. Your apartment was warm and inviting and you could hear the siren call of your bed. It took all of your strength to ignore it and get into the shower. You set a 15 minute alarm so that you wouldn’t lose track of time within the hot water. Your phone buzzed from it’s spot on the window sill next to the shower. You reached out and checked the notification bar.

Hey babe, I think I might land this deal. Got a few things to nail down but yeah. What are you up to?

Oooh… so I'm babe now? I'm getting ready for dinner.

Too soon? Whoops? Bucky giving you a ride?

Nah BABE youre fine. Yeah Bucks taking me

You wash your body, careful to keep the soap out of your hair and eyes. When you are clean and smelling like your vanilla soap you get out of the shower and start getting ready. You are going to a very fancy restaurant, a place that would require you to dress up but you weren’t about to put on a dress just for it to wrinkle on the back of Bucky’s bike. You opted for a pair of black slacks and a satin navy blue dress shirt that complemented your skin in the best possible way.

You were slipping your heels into your purse as Bucky knocked on your door.

“Just a minute, I’m putting on my boots!” You yell from the couch in the living room.

The door opens and Bucky is standing next to the couch before you get the zipper pulled up on your second boot. He looks… good. You check him out from toes to head. He was in fitted dress pants and a black dress shirt with a dark blue tie. His hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the base of his neck. His Blue eyes sparkled with excitement and his smile was breathtaking.

“You are the perfect woman, you know that?” He asked as he helped you stand and took in your outfit. “Did you bring your heels with you or are you going to stay in these shit kickers all night?” He pressed, kicking you boot softly with the tip of his.

You patted the purse on your shoulder that was bigger than you normally carried due to the cargo inside. “All packed up and safe right here.”

“Awesome. Lets go.”

You walk in and Steve and Nat are practically sitting on each other's lap, You walk up and make a gagging noise that gets their attention. “You guys are so cute, it makes me sick.”

“Thanks.” Nat replied, scrunching her nose and eyes up as she smiled. Steve popped up to give you and Bucky a hug over the table. Nat followed suit.

“I’m glad you made it. Where is Clint? I was excited to give him the intentions speech.” Steve said with a gravelly chuckle.

“He’s with a client. Has been most of the week. Apparently it's a huge opportunity for him. If he lands an instructor gig with Mr. Stark he should be able to open his own gym.”

“Wow, sounds exciting.” Sam’s voice startled you as his hand came down on the back of Bucky’s chair.

A cheer of “Sam” came from all around the table as everyone was excited to see he was able to make it.

“I’m happy for you, man. You got your girl.” He said kissing the top of Natasha’s head but his eyes flitted to Bucky long enough to make you question what he meant by his words. “So… How’s engaged life treating you?” He asked as he shuffled around Steve to the open seat next to Bucky.

“Good man, We’ve been looking at venues and doing all that planning stuff.” Steve replied with a huge grin.

“Which brings me to my first bullet on the wedding checklist.” Nat interjected. She grabs both of your hands and pulls you closer. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

“You let out a little squeal and nodded. “Of course Nat! I’d be honored!”

“I don't want to put either of you on the spot about the best man thing and make the other one feel like I love them less so you guys can arm wrestle for it or something…” Steve trails off. Bucky’s mouth popped open in shock and Sam let out a little huff.

“You’re kidding right?” Bucky asks. “We’ve been friends since forever!”

“Yes but only because I knew you’d freak out enough to ease the heart breaks for Sam. Sorry bud. It’s gotta be Buck.” He said turning to Sam. “I’d still be honored if you would be my other groomsman.”

Sam smiled and hugged Steve. “Duh, man. But that means Buck has to plan your Stag night.” He said, making a face of disgust.

Everyone laughed and the night continued on with smiles and stories from everyone at the table.

By 10 pm you were totally exhausted and ready to hit the hay. Bucky turned to you with a sad smile, “Time to head home, Sugar?” You nod.

“Alright guys, me and little bit here have to get going. Work in the morning.” You give your friends a hug and put cash for you and Bucky’s dinner in the little black book that the server had dropped off.

When you got out to the bike you sat and waited on Bucky to exit the restaurant.

“You think you’re pretty slick, huh?” Bucky asked, sliding on his jacket and throwing his leg over the bike.

“Huh?” You ask, kind of tired and kind of confused.

“I went to pay the check and it was gone.”

“Oh yeah. Well you got lunch and gave me a ride… I picked up dinner. It’s fair” You replied sliding in behind him and wrapping your arms tight around his waist. You could almost feel him roll his eyes before he turned his torso to look at you. Whatever he had planned to say died on his lips when his eyes met yours.

“Fine. Lets just say it's payback for drooling on your favorite shirt during movie night.”

Instead of continuing to argue he just shook his head and turned back to kick the bike to life.

You hopped off of the bike and hugged Bucky tight. “Night Buck. See you in the morning.”

“Night doll.”

You skipped up to your apartment and promptly fell asleep in all of your clothes.

The next morning you work up to a text from Bucky and two from Clint. Bucky’s was the usual safe message he sent any time he dropped you off, he knows you worry about him but also doesn’t expect a reply. You open Clint’s next.

Good morning beautiful.

I have good news call me when you wake up.

His dinner must have gone well but you weren’t sure what the urgency could be about.

You quickly brushed your teeth and washed your face before dialing his number. It only rang twice before he picked up. He was panting and you could hear the sounds of people training in the background.

“Hey babe. How was dinner?” he said, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Pretty great. Had a lot of fun. Looks like I get to be Nat’s Maid of Honor which is really exciting.”

“That is amazing! Well, Do you have lunch plans today?” He asked, “I guess I could have just texted you that. “

You giggle at him over the line and assure him that you are free for him to pick you up at noon.

When you get to the shop the strong smell of coffee and motor oil hits you and you can't help but think about how much you love your job. Peter pops up from behind his desk. “Morning. There is coffee on the counter and Bucky just ran to grab doughnuts.”

“Thanks Peter. Anything new in today?”

“Not for a few hours. Mrs. Sledge is due in around 1230 for an oil change and tire rotation.”

“Cool.” You make your way through the reception area and into the garage. The radio was already on and playing classic rock from the speakers as you set yourself up to reorganize you and Bucky’s tool boxes.

You rolled your chair over to your box first. It wasn’t too messy and you felt a bit of pride in actually being able to keep it halfway decent looking. You wiped off all of your wrenches and put them in order before turning to Bucky’s box. The tall, silver, rolling cabinet was covered in greasy handprints and stickers and you shuddered. You opened the bottom drawer to find little to be upset over. His screwdrivers were all clean and orderly. All the drawers that followed were the same, which was odd. Bucky was very neat at home but his toolbox was usually always some form of disorganized. When you popped open the top drawer you couldn’t help but smile. Pinned to the corner of the lid was a picture of the three of you at prom. You laughed at the three kids playing dress up.

The bell above the door let out a high pitched ding and you carefully shut his toolbox.

“Hey Peter. One chocolate glazed sprinkle doughnut. Is she in already?”

“Yes she is.” You say as you lean against the door jam.

“Oh hey. So I got us some breakfast,”he said opening the box in front of you, “I got your favorite.”

You grab the doughnut and bite off half of it, “Fanks.” You say around the half chewed bread.

“Gross.” Peter said, leaning away a bit. His crush must be wearing off, you thought idley to yourself.

You start walking back into the shop and Bucky follows, leaving the almost full box on Peter’s desk. “So apparently we don’t have anything planned until after lunch. I was going to clean up the boxes but that’s already done so… what do you want to work on?”

“Let’s do inventory for a bit. I’m sure there is something that needs ordered or replaced.”

And so you did, actually you worked on inventory between singing off key and showing Peter how to order from your supplier. At around 1130 Bucky leaned back in his stool and yelled to the front desk. He wanted to know if Peter wanted anything for lunch. He kindly declined saying something about lunch with his friends. Bucky turned and asked you the same thing. It was at that point you realized you had forgotten to tell him that you had plans with Clint. You let him in on the plan and he blew a strand of hair from his face and stood up.

“Cool. I’ll start Mrs. Sledge’s car without you then.” He looked a little irritated. “Bet I finish it before you get back too. But first, I'm gonna get lunch. Text me if anything comes in.”

You stared after him for a few minutes, totally confused. You finished with the last of the fluids inventory about twenty minutes later and washed up in the shop's bathroom, Bucky wouldn’t be back until you were gone which would leave Peter alone in the shop for half an hour. You hoped nothing would come up in that time.

You quickly ran the brush you kept stashed in your tool box through your hair and threw on a coat of mascara and eyeliner before Clint showed up.

The bell chimed above the door and you ran to the office area. Clint was standing in the door with a bouquet of bright flowers.

“Hey babe.” He said kissing your cheek.

“Hey. Are these for me? They are really pretty.” You reply as he hands you the flowers.

“Yeah. You might want to get them in some water. The yellow ones wilt really fast.”

“Already on it!” Peter called from the supply closet.

“Thanks Pete!” You yelled over your shoulder.

“So what’s for lunch?” You ask as Clint wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“You’ll see.” He replied with a mischievous smile.

You were stretched out on a picnic blanket in the shade of a big oak. A sweet smelling fall breeze blew through your hair and Clint tucked a stray strand behind your ear. It was sad and wistful and beautiful.

“So it’s only for a few weeks. A month at most.” Clint had planned a lovely lunch and had listened to you gush about the engagement dinner before he dropped the bomb. He had landed the deal but he had to go to the west coast for the job to work out. Apparently Mr. Stark is adamant about having Clint show his daughter how to use a bow and is willing to pay good money for his services. Still, you were sad to see him leave for any length of time.

“When do you leave?” You asked, not masking the sadness in your voice.

“Monday morning. I have an 8am flight.” Clint kissed the side of your mouth where your lips had curved down into a pout. “It'll be fine. A few weeks and then I’m back here with you and we can see where this new adventure takes us.”

Clint walks you back to the shop with your hands tangled together. When you get to the door he leans in and leaves a soft kiss on your lips. “I'm gonna be to your place at six Sunday and we are going to go on one hell of a date, okay?” He asks, trying to make you smile before he leaves. You nod quickly and try to hold back any sadness left in your voice

“Sounds great.” He leans in and steals one more kiss before you push through the door of the shop.

Bucky stood up as you made a beeline for the bathroom. “You okay, doll?” he asked through the locked door.

“Yeah.” You called back, your voice cracking slightly.

“Sounds like you’re upset. Wanna talk about it?”

You wipe your face off and take a long look in the mirror before answering. So what if the first boyfriend you have had in ages is leaving for weeks? You have a job and good friends and he’ll be back before you know it. You open the bathroom door and Bucky stumbles a little. He had obviously been leaning on the wood before you yanked it open.

“I’m fine, Bucky. Really.” You smile at him and he visibly relaxes. “Did you finish Mrs. Sledge's car yet?”

Saturday at the shop was, well, a regular Saturday if you were being honest. Bucky had gotten in early so he could leave in time to get to Sam’s for poker night and you had zero plans even though your boyfriend would be headed across the country in less than two days. You hadn’t said anything to your friends yet, focusing mostly on your feelings without outside input. Plus they would all know soon enough, Clint would be sure to tell the guys since he was headed to Sam’s as soon as he got off as well. You moved around the garage aimlessly picking up tools and wiping of counters as you went.

“Hey. You okay? You seem a little out of it.” Peter called from around the reception area’s wall.

“I’m fine. Ready to get today over with.” You replied with a shrug. You had just finished with the last car on your list and the owner wouldn’t be back for another hour so you were left with some idle time. Idle time was the last thing you wanted though. You were going through your mental checklist of everything you needed to do before you closed up shop when the bell above the door rang and the reception area was filled with young voices. You walked to the door way and saw Peter’s friend, Ned and a new girl with curly brown hair and a fuck off attitude. You looked over at Peter who seemed to have frozen with his fingers glued to the keyboard.

You kicked the wall and he snapped out of his daze. “Hey Ned. Hey Michelle. Wha- What are you doing here?” He asked as he worked to smooth down his hair.

“I was bored after class and Ned said we should come bother you.” Michelle said, almost sounding sleepy.

“I did no- OW!” Ned started to talk but Michelle kicked him in the ankle. You tried to cover your laugh with a cough.

“Oh, yeah. This is Michelle,” Peter said turning to you.

“Hey.” You uncrossed your arms long enough to wave before tucking it back against your body. “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever this is. When is Kevin due back for his car?”

“Um…” Peter pulled up the calendar on his computer, “In about 40 minutes.”

“Okay. If you can get his paperwork done and your desk ready you can head out early if you want. I don’t mind closing shop.” You said walking back to your work area.

“Everything is on my desk. Thanks for covering for me.” Peter said about ten minutes late while you were checking that all of the bolts were tightened.

“No problem Peter.” You replied without looking up at him. “Hey wait… Just before you go”

Peter’s sneakers squeaked against the shop floor, “Yeah?”

“Michelle. I can tell you like her. You should definitely make a move before someone snatches her up.”

“Wha- Me and MJ? We’re just friends. Been friends since high school. Tha- That’s all.” Peter stumbled through the excuse and your heart ached a little for him.

“Look kid. She likes you too. Take the chance.” You said with a sad smile.

“Thanks. I think I might. And you know what, The crazy thing is… Mr. Barnes said the same thing to me the other day.” Peter said before he took off for the office.

Nat called you some time into your third glass of whiskey and second episode of some cooking show that hates its contestants to yell at you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say Clint was leaving?” You had to pull the phone away from your ear as she yelled.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? He’s the first guy that you’ve gone out with more than once since I’ve met you and he’s leaving. How is that ‘not a big deal’?”

“It’s only for a few weeks, maybe a month. I’ll survive.”

“Me and Wanda are already on our way to your place.”

“Nat. No. Just stay at home. I’ll be okay. I’m getting ready to head to bed anyways.”

“When’s he leaving?”

“Huh?”

“When is Clint leaving?”

“He’s got a flight out Monday morning. We are going out tomorrow.”

“Fine. Me and Wanda will be over first thing.” She obviously couldn’t tell how irritated you were getting with the whole conversation.

“Why?” You appreciate her concern but you were really fine. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Well, one because we are your friends and we care about you and two so we can have a girls day and get you ready for your date.”

“Jesus. We aren’t getting ready for prom, Nat.”

“I know but we want to go out anyway so breakfast, nails, and shopping. Deal?” Wanda Chimed in from the background. You hadn’t realized that you were on speaker phone.

“Fine guys. But I’m really okay.”

“We’ll see you at 11. Love ya” With that Nat hung up on you.

Your friends were really annoying sometimes. You cleaned up your living room table and washed the dishes before crawling in to bed, apparently you had a big day tomorrow.

#bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #Bucky angst #bucky x reader friends to lovers #marvel au #winter soldier x reader #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #sargent james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #WINTER SOLDIER ANGST #james barnes x reader #fortunate #fortune teller AU!

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revengeoftheantichrist · 3 years ago

Text

Kingdom Come

Warnings: Inappropriate behaviour, assassination attempt

AO3 <<<Previous

Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed quickly. Your shifts continued in a similar pattern. You had lost count of how many people you shuffled in and out of the room, Alister’s wife being the most regular. Today was your day off, you were determined to get some training in before the ball. The knights would rotate between who could attend as a guest and who had to attend as staff. Unfortunately for you, you were staff this time around, having to watch out for the ever-irritating Lord Langdon. He barely acknowledged your existence, and you were glad for it, however, you do wish he would give you a little more respect, you were a royal knight after all. You were currently at the training grounds. It was a place to practice your swordsmanship and an arena for friendly duels between knights and sometimes nobles. You pulled your current opponent up after beating him. Kyle was another one of Princess Madison’s knights, a man of few words but a good friend. You didn’t expect to be interrupted by Lord Langdon. He immediately soured your mood. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to avoid him. He turned up sooner or later, like a pest you thought you had gotten rid of. “Well well, it seems like the knights of Robichaux live up to their standards.” He walked to the spare weapons saved for the arena, all blunt enough to not main. He pulled out a sword and felt the weight before speaking again, “I’m sure you could entertain me just a little, after all, this area is for friendly duels, is it not?” You nodded. Kyle was called away, leaving you and Michael alone, without a referee or an audience. You both took your stances opposite one another, waiting for the other to make their first move. He charged and you quickly blocked him, using your strength to push him away. You both rebalanced and the dance continued. He was a formidable opponent. You were surprised at how much you were enjoying this duel. He wasn’t going easy on you and that gave you an adrenaline rush like no other. It had been a while since you were treated as an equal in battle. Only the sound of swords clashing, and grunting could be heard. You found an opening and quickly attacked. You managed to throw him on his back. Kicking his weapon out of the way before straddling him. Your sword was held against his throat, noses centimetres apart. You tried to catch your breath, coming down from the adrenaline rush the fight gave you. He looked up at you and smirked, thoroughly enjoying the position you were in. “This is the second blade you’ve held to my skin, Dame Y/N. Is this how you deal with every man you meet? Or am I just special?” “Don’t flatter yourself Lord Langdon, this is just standard procedure.” “Your emotional range doesn’t seem to go beyond that scowl however.” You pushed the blade further, wishing it would break skin. “Thank you for the company Lord Langdon, but I’m sure we both have more important things to do.” You moved to get off him. Loosening you grip on your sword and stepping off him. He took you by surprise as your back was turned, swiping his leg underneath you, changing the positions you were both in a minute ago. Now he held the blade to your throat and straddled you. “You shouldn’t let your guard down. The enemy out in the big world does not care for the rules of the ring.” Your noses were touching, and he didn’t budge as you tried to push him off you. He studied your face intensely, taking in every detail like someone would view a fine painting. A cough interrupted whatever was going on. Michael was distracted enough for you to push him off. You stood up and dusted yourself, taking your weapon and putting it back on the rack. It was John Henry that had interrupted you, he had wanted to speak to you about something. You sad nothing to the Lord behind you as you walked out of the room, red in the face. John Henry followed soon after. //// The day was hot. You sat in one of the terraces for lunch with John Henry. He looked around before speaking, “Have you seen anything these past few weeks?” “Along the lines of…?” you trailed off. “Well, you’ve been standing guard at night for your little Lord. Have you seen who’s been going in and out?” “Ohhh,” you looked around before answering, “I’ve just spent the past two weeks just escorting men and women at the crack of dawn,” You were telling the truth. “Any particular women?” “I’m not sure if you’d like the answer to that question Sir Moore,” you sipped your tea, knowing what he really wanted to hear. “Well, I’m just trying to figure out where bedding his brothers’ wives fits into a greater plan.” “between you and me,” you leaned in closer, “I think he’s up to something too, but I’m not sure what.” You knew you could be honest with your superior, this conversation would stay between the pair of you until the time was right. “Keep an eye on him tomorrow night, I’ll be attending as a guest so can’t remain as vigilant.” You nodded in reply, the conversation quickly turning to mundane security measures as the terrace filled with other members of staff on their breaks. ////

You looked at yourself in the mirror once more. Checking to make sure your uniform was spick and span; you were not about to reprimanded for your appearance. You adjusted your sword once more before leaving to attend to your main task. You had to escort Lord Langdon to the ball and ensure he was safe the entire night. There were only a few hours left now but you still had to stand guard. As you stood in your position, the door to his chambers opened, a blushing maid making her way out. “Ah, Dame Y/N, Lord Langdon wishes to see you,” she stuttered. You raised your brow, “Why? Did he give a reason?” “He said you were an expert with a blade,” she sounded even more cryptic than before. You asked her where he was, and she pointed to the bathroom door. The scoundrel probably wanted something that didn’t fit in the job description. You nodded to another guard to take your position. The maid scurried off and you shut the door behind you. Making your way to the bathroom, you knocked before you entered, you had manners after all. “Come in,” his voice echoed on the tile. You hesitated before opening the door. The room was steamy and smelled like bergamot. Michael was reclined in the large tub, staring at you through hooded eyes. “Just the person I wanted to see,” he smiled. “Is there a problem my Lord?” you asked, trying to keep it short. He lazily pointed to one of the draws, instructing you to open it. In it were shaving blades and the soap to go with it. You looked perplexed. “well, hurry up then. I need to look my best for tonight and I can’t risk injuring myself,” he explained. “Lord Langdon, I hope you are aware that this isn’t part of my job description. We have staff on hand for these sorts of things.” “And have my throat slit? Take off your jacket, you do not want to ruin your uniform and get on with it. My time is being wasted,” he demanded. You huffed before complying. Michael took this as an opportunity to sink further into the water. You rolled up your sleeves and grabbed a basin. He rose from the water as you got closer with the equipment. You could see the light stubble in the light. Without a word, you foamed up the soap and brushed it across his face, lightly holding his chin. You took the blade and told him to hold still, angling his face for a better view. You didn’t care you were manhandling him. “Sit still.” The only sound that could be heard was the blade against the stubble and the occasional sound of you cleaning the blade. You stopped as you reached the other side of his face, noticing the faint scar on his cheekbone from the incident where you first met. You continued to shave before he could say anything, quickly finishing off with the precision and speed that was trained into you. His hands wrapped around your waist as you reached closer to his neck. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you my Lord,” you whispered, holding a blade to his neck for the second time this week. “Dying by your hand would be an honour,” he whispered back, bringing your hand up to kiss your palm. You shook your hand from his grasp, jerking his head back to finish off. You threw the blade into the basin and hurled a warm, damp towel at him. “I will escort you at 6PM sharp My Lord,” you bit out, storming out of his room, and taking your jacket on the way. Michael chuckled at your actions. ////

Michael looked regal when he finally left his room. He was dressed to impress, and you had to give him credit where it was due. You didn’t gawk for too long; you weren’t about to give him that satisfaction. A staff member arrived to formally escort him to the ball, and you trailed closely behind. The doors to the ballroom opened and it was as if you had been transported to another world. The jovial atmosphere was accented by beautiful music. The chatter and laughter made it seem like the kingdom had known nothing but joy. Anyone who was anyone was here; all dressed to impress and flaunt their wealth to one another. You held your head high as you followed the Lord into the room, you too had earned your place here and your uniform showed it. As Michael was caught up in conversation, you lingered by the wall; far enough to not be seen but close enough just in case. “Ah, Dame Y/N, how wonderful to see you,” the voice belonged to Lady Myrtle Snow, one of your tutors from the academy. “Lady Snow! How are you?” you asked with a smile. “Ah well, same old same old. I almost didn’t come tonight; the tailor gave me the wrong neckline. Can you believe the audacity?” “You can’t trust anyone these days.” “So, are you on the job tonight? Or will you be joining the rest of us at some point?” she asked. “Unfortunately I’m working tonight, maybe next time.” “Well, then, I shall speak to you here.” Myrtle started to catch you up on all the academy gossip. She was after all the best source when it came to these sorts of things. As the conversation got juicier, you saw something in the corner of your eye. You had to alert your charge immediately. “I’m sorry to interrupt you Ma’am but duty calls,” you gave her a quick goodbye before worming your way though the crowd. “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” you whispered to Michael, trying not to disturb the conversation he was having. You looked around, making sure the waiter responsible had not seen you. Someone had planned to poison the Lord tonight; you were sure of it. He nodded lightly, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. You made your way back to your post, watching the staff extra closely. Michael walked over to you as the conversation ended. “Well done there my knight, it would be embarrassing if I was choking on the floor right now.” You nodded back. He got closer and it made alarm bells go off in your head. “During the changeover for the dances, I want you to swap this cup with prince Alister’s. Am I clear?” You looked at him in horror. “I will not commit treason for the enjoyment of some lord,” you bit back. Michael looked around before grabbing the back of your neck. “That wasn’t an open question. It was an order. Now, I will ask one more time, am. I. understood?” You quickly nodded in response, hoping no one had seen you. “Good girl.” The music began to change, and Michael quickly handed you the cup and made his way to the dancefloor. You made your way into the changing crowd, using the hustle and bustle as a cover. You had to stay vigilant, if something happened and you were seen, your head would be on a spike before dawn. You finally got close enough, your target had just put his new cup down behind him; he was lost in conversation. You waited until his peers and himself looked out onto the dance floor. You took the opportunity and quickly swapped the cups. Your heart was beating out your chest. Your breathing was heavy as you made your way back to your post. Only a minute had passed since the start of your task, but it felt like a lifetime. You tried not to look at the prince too much, it would make you seem suspicious. Michael made eye contact with you and you raised the new glass to him. He smirked and continued the waltz. You chugged the drink quickly to alleviate some stress. From the corner of your eye, you watched as the prince drank from his cup, you watched him gulp the liquid down and emptying the glass. Nothing happened. You were expecting something instant. You began to question whether you had actually swapped the cups or not. But before you could get too lost in your thoughts, the prince groaned in pain and began to double over. The music stopped immediately. The ballroom was silent. Staff members rushed to his aid, you too began to move towards the commotion, you didn’t want to stand out by doing nothing. The medical staff had reached him, taking him out on a stretcher, the crowd parting for him. A low murmur began to start in the room. Guests putting their drinks down, refusing to take another sip. The king and crown prince were being briefed on something in hushed voices. It seemed like a lifetime before anything else happened. “Honoured guests,” the King started. “We apologise for the abrupt end in the festivities. However, a possible act of treason has been committed tonight. No one is to leave the ballroom until they have been thoroughly questioned. Lodgings will be provided tonight for those who may need them. Please remain calm. Sir Ariel Augustus will provide further information and instructions. I need all knights to report to Sir Moore for their instructions.” The guests watched the King as he left after his speech. The rest of the family trailing behind after him. As soon as they left all doors were sealed shut, ensuring no guest escaped during this time. The tone in the room changed to panic, highborn nobles had never been in this position. Most of them would never have to deal with the law. They took offence to the possible accusation of them poisoning a prince. Why would they? There was nothing to gain. Music began to play to calm the guests down. Fresh bottles of wine were opened in front of them to loosen their tongues. You made your way over to Sir Moore to receive your instructions. It was to be a long night of questioning and dealing with the brats of society. Maybe you should have stayed on the family farm. //// You sighed and stretched your muscles. Your last guest had been questioned and sent on their way. It was far easier to interrogate them than you thought. No one in your group had been suspicious. You had been given permission to take a short break and change before your night duties. Security had been heightened so it was mandatory. As you walked to your dorms, a whispered conversation stopped you in your tracks. You stood behind the wall to listen. “Is all the staff here incompetent? Have any of you brains?” “I am sorry your highness, I… I thought I had poured it into Langdon’s Cup,” the man whimpered. A slap echoed down the hall. “You thought wrong! Alister has never been a threat to my throne, he is too busy trying to wrangle that whore wife of his.” “Why… why don’t you try to put the blame on Lord Langdon?” “That bastard was too far from him to have done it. Do you think that mutt has the mental capacity to pull a stunt like this?” You almost laughed at the conversation. Michael was a threat yet didn’t have the ability to be threatening. It made no sense. “I promise Your highness, it won’t happen again,” the man stuttered. “You’re lucky boy, very lucky. Had I not been fond of your sister’s cunt, I would decapitate you myself.” Ah, you realised why the waiter was familiar, his sister was Prince Jeffrey’s current mistress. The woman had more power over him than he would admit. You had heard enough, quickly walking away before you got caught. You would hold onto this information for now.

#my writing #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #KC3

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 12- The Dark King

Word Count: 10, 700

Ao3

TW: Mentions of rape, abuse, violence

A/N: Thank you guys for your kind comments and support so far! I really love the enthusiasm and your responses!

I also wanted to share these amazing fanart!!

by @nessieusagi

by @milas-imaginarium

I think they’re so lovely and it makes me so happy seeing all of this!

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

The first thing you felt when you woke up the next morning was the burning soreness between your thighs.

You winced when you reached down to touch your tender folds. Your labia minora was slightly swollen, and you felt something sticky. You withdrew your hand to see dark red oxidized blood.

You got up from bed, flinching as you walked to your bathroom to wash up. After a quick shower, you head out but paused when you caught your own reflection in the mirror. There were bruises on your waist and your hips, a double crescent shaped marking around your left nipple- you hadn’t even realise he bit you there in the heat. Your eyes then darted towards your neck, taking in the dark spots that had formed on the surface of your skin.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered.

You were a fucking mess. Anyone who saw you would immediately know what you were up to the night before. Even washed and clean, you could make out your slightly swollen lips.

You reached for your makeup bag and started covering up the visible remains of the assault you welcomed- before pausing in realisation.

Mother was quiet. She hadn’t made a single comment about how dirty you were.

And you didn’t feel dirty either.

You saw your own lips quirk up in a smirk as you craned your head to expose your neck even more to dab on concealer. You had just finished getting dressed when you heard a knock on your door.

“ Hey, you up?” you heard Dick’s muffled voice from outside.

You didn’t bother to reply, but went to open the door for him.

You stared at him, as he stared at you.

“You look like shit,” you snickered, then stepped aside to allow him inside.

His eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles underneath them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the fact that his complexion was gray and pale added on to the “looks like death” look.

“I feel like shit,” he groaned. You sat on the chair near your desk as he helped himself to your bed.

“Are you okay?” he frowned in concern.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re walking funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

Shit.

You had tried to walk as normally as you could, but you were naive to think that you could have fooled Dick.

“Oh!” you feigned realisation, “My foot hurts a bit. I think I twisted it yesterday when I ran up the stairs.”

Fuck.

Another blunder.

It wasn’t a half truth, it was a straight up lie, and you knew how good Dick was at detecting lies. Judging from the tightening of his lips and the scrutinizing pause, he saw straight through you. You remained silent for a few moments. Then-

“So, Bruce told you, right?” Dick changed the subject, “How did you take it?”

You relaxed.

“I didn’t know him,” you reminded, “So it was more like a surprise to me, you know? I didn’t think it was possible. Then everything just made sense. Like, mind blowingly. The shit he said to me, the familiarity with the gadgets and my uniform, the kidnapping.”

“It killed him, you know?” Dick brought up, “Bruce, I mean. When he saw those bruises Red Hood- no, Jason- left on you. He probably didn’t show much, but Alfred called and told me how badly he took it.”

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of the hickies you currently had hidden on your neck, as if they were burning into your skin.

“Well, that was Todd’s plan, I suppose,” you shrugged. It still felt weird to talk about him in the context of the present.

“It worked,” Dick nodded, “Bruce was messed up. You’re his daughter after all.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his sad smile, so you changed the subject.

“So did you yell at him?” you smirked, “For keeping it a secret for so long?”

“Yell at him? I punched him,” he revealed.

“In the face?” you gasped.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered, looking away.

“How long will you be staying?” you asked.

“I’m taking a week off work. If nothing by then, I’ll go back, but will continue to drop by as much as I can.”

“Anything last night?” you questioned.

“No,” he sighed, “We tried to look for people to interrogate, but it wasn’t our luck. We’ll try again. We’ve been checking out Bruce’s safehouses as well since he never removed Jason’s security clearance so he could be using one of them. So far nothing, though.”

You felt like a dark mass inside of you was eating you up, drowning you in guilt and shame.

While they were out desperately looking for Jason the night before, you knew exactly where he was and who he was doing.

“You’ll find him eventually,” you offered, “And when this stupid suspension is over, I’ll be there to help as well.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Jason… I want to help him. Save him. He’s angry, and you know what? I get it. I get why he’s pissed.”

So Dick got it?

He got that it was your fucking fault? That you were Jason’s replacement?

He got why Jason fucking hated you?

Dick must have noticed the change in your expression, because he quickly added, “I meant Bruce. How Bruce let Joker go.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you recovered, “It’s fine.”

“Sure, Bruce beat Joker up and all that, but I felt that Jason was always the type to think that the ends justify the means. He valued the intentions more than the action itself-”

“I said it’s fine, Dick,” you cut him off.

“And of course it does not in any way justify what he did to you-”

“Dick,” you grit, “It’s fine.”

He looked at you warily.

Or was it pity?

You didn’t need or want his fucking pity.

“Anyway,” he got up, “Breakfast?”

“Sure,” you followed suit, willing yourself to not grimace at the shooting pain between your thighs that you had forgotten about.

The two of you made your way downstairs to have breakfast in the dining room, table already set by Alfred.

“Bruce?” you asked Dick, wondering where your father was.

“He’s been in the cave the whole night,” Dick frowned as he took a seat across from you, “Hadn’t slept a wink.”

“I see,” you acknowledged, while you piled your plate with bacon and eggs.

“So,” Dick started with his mouth full, “Where did you go last night?”

“Did Alfred tell you I went out?” you narrowed your eyes.

“Mhmm.”

You immediately started to get more cautious.

“I went to see someone,” you casually told him, trying your best to lower your heartbeat.

“Oh, was it that guy you were seeing?”

“Yup.”

“You never told me his name.”

You swallowed.

“Carter.”

“Carter?” he snickered.

“What’s wrong with Carter?” you feigned a defensive stance.

“Nothing wrong,” he tried to stifle his laughter, “So is Carter the reason why you’re walking funny?”

You did not expect that.

You were going to gasp in shock, but you had food in your mouth, so you ended up choking on it and going into a coughing fit.

“Dick!” you hacked violently, eyes streaming with tears.

“What?” he guffawed, “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

“Why would you say that?” you reached for the glass of juice.

“I need to know whether I gotta have a stern talking with some guy,” he laughed, “It was an honest question! Come on, I’m your brother.”

“Even more reason not to discuss these things!” you grimaced.

“Hey, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it,” he said smugly.

“It’s none of your business,” you protested, blushing furiously.

But the universe was a bitch.

Against all your luck, your phone that you had set on the table dinged.

You looked at Dick, and he looked at you, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You had been Robin for a long time, and while your reflexes were good, it still wasn’t as good as Dick’s.

Before you could reach for your phone, Dick had lunged for it, snatching it away mere moments before you could react.

“Dick, give it back!” you panicked, jumping across the table to catch swipe it back, causing a commotion.

He stood up tall, keeping the phone out of your reach.

“Oooh, Sexy Hunk From Library, huh?” he read out the notification on your lock screen. You put in a mental reminder to change your settings later.

“Thought of my proposal?” he read out loud, skipping away from you.

Fuck.

If Jason sent anything else, he’d expose himself.

“Proposal?” Dick continued, “What proposal? Did he ask you to marry him?”

You could tackle him. You couldn’t beat Dick but you could perhaps make him drop your phone.

“Or,” he gasped, “Is he into BDSM? Fifty Shades of Grey stuff? He’s getting you to sign a contract, isn’t-”

“How about instead of distracting yourself and using humor as a coping mechanism for your obvious grief and anger, you come to the terms and accept the fact that it was your fucking little brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted me?” you spat with venom.

You saw the moment Dick registered your words, the way his smile fell, his teasing eyes darkened, his jaw clench and his back stiffened.

Dick had never looked at you the way he did then, and suddenly you felt small in his presence, the way Batman had always made you shrink away from his excessive aura of authority that he projected while he scrutinized you.

You felt like a dark veil covered the sun, and wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole as he looked at you with dark eyes.

“Dick-”

“You’re right,” he grit, “Thanks for the slap in the face.”

“I’m sorry-” you tried.

“Clean up the mess you made,” he cut you off before leaving you alone with spilled juice and bacon bits on the floor.

You were never the clingy type.

You never really missed anyone because you never had anyone to miss. The maids and nannies in your childhood home rotated frequently so that you couldn’t get attached to them. Looking back, you were sure your parents did it on purpose.

It was only when you started giving full trust to your new family that you knew how it felt to miss someone.

And it had always been Dick, since you had gotten close to him and he wasn’t around much. You always had a good relationship with him, and he never once got angry at you or looked at you the way he did.

And now, it was Dick you had hurt.

But frankly, you didn’t care.

Because he deserved it.

***

It wasn’t like Jason was hoping for you to agree, but it was part of his plan so he couldn’t help but hope.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

He was sitting at his dining table- the fact that he owned a dining table sort of made him pleased with himself- cleaning his guns.

It took you almost an hour before you finally replied his text.

When Jason heard the ding, he looked to his screen to read the notification.

I’m still thinking.

He frowned, then put his gun down. He wiped his hand stained with grease and gunpowder residue on his bare chest, leaving a trail of gray on the surface of his skin before picking up his phone to reply.

Think faster. he simply sent.

He saw that you immediately started typing back.

These things take planning, Jason. I need to make sure no one can identify me if I were to go out with you. It’s not the matter of whether or not I can decide, it’s the matter of whether or not I’m capable of eluding Batman once he sees a surveillance footage of me with you.

Jason smirked. Evidently, you were agitated.

He liked that.

He liked agitating you.

You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out. he replied and went back to cleaning his weapons when you didn’t text him back.

Two hours later, his phone dinged again.

Fine. Where do we meet?

Jason smiled widely at his success.

Meet me at 7th Dillon Avenue, Coventry. I’ll be in the alley between the old tailor shop and a thrift store. 11pm sharp.

Noted.

Oh, and babygirl? he sent again.

What?

Put on that lip gloss you always wear. he replied with a kissing emoji he knew would get under your skin.

***

I don’t exist for him.

I don’t care what he thinks.

I don’t want to please him.

You repeated to yourself again and again as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the tube of clear lipgloss you always wore held tight in your shaking fist.

After knowing he wanted you to wear it, you were suddenly torn between putting it on or not. You didn’t think something as stupid and simple as that could drive you up the wall.

You were frowning at yourself, at how idiotic you were being.

You were already ready, wearing a tight black suit made from Kevlar thread underneath black armor, your hair out of your face, and steel toed combat boots on complete with black leather gloves you usually wore during winter. The only weapons you were bringing were a pair of escrima sticks strapped to your back, your grappling gun strapped to your upper thigh, and a small knife strapped below it. Your belt only had smoke bombs. You were ready to leave, except for the lipgloss.

You groaned, and smacked it on anyway, hating yourself silently for listening to him.

You left your phone in your room, because you knew that Bruce could track your movements with it and deactivating your GPS and whatever bug he used would be more suspicious.

You managed to sneak past Alfred and head to the garage, thankful that both Bruce and Dick were already out, and chose the most normal looking motorcycle available and slapping black duct tape on the number plate to cover it up.

You thought about how your core would just sting while riding a motorcycle. The pain between your legs had lessened, but it was still sore enough to make your movements odd and stiff.

You left the manor with your heart beat racing, thinking of how you were betraying the man who took you in and loved you.

The man whom you called your father.

The streets in Coventry were dark and empty at that time. The only shops that were open were a couple of empty dodgy bars and convenience stores. You and Batman sometimes would patrol the area because it was such a perfect place for crime to happen. For some reason, it was so empty that even criminals hardly ever targeted anyone in the area save a few residents.

You hurriedly zoomed into the alley that Jason had told you. Both the tailor shop and thrift store were closed. You immediately saw him leaning against a black, sleek classic car, helmet resting on the hood. It was your first time seeing him as Red Hood after discovering his identity.

And the image ignited a fire in your belly.

You parked next to him and switched your engine off, taking off your own black motorcycle helmet.

You walked towards him and stopped a few feet away, arms crossed.

He looked at you, up and down. Then-

“Very homemade. I like it. Black suits you better,” he drawled. “You’re packing light tonight.”

“I had to be careful,” you reminded him, “I couldn’t take much weapons. He would have noticed.”

“I didn’t know you used those,” he nodded at the escrima sticks on your back.

“Dick taught me how to use them,” you explained, “My fighting style is too rigid- Bruce would recognize it if he saw me fight next to you. I’m not as familiar with the escrima sticks, so I haven’t developed a style yet. It could throw him off- hopefully.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and started walking towards you. You refused to budge. He came close to you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you close against his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you willed yourself to not show any sort of reaction.

“And this?” he breathed, hands snaking up your waist, rubbing the material up and down, “Kevlar armor?”

“Zylon,” you mumbled, ignoring the growing heat between your legs, “It’s six times stronger than Kevlar.”

“And he wouldn’t notice this go missing?”

“It’s stored away,” you huffed, “It’s more like a bulletproof vest rather than a suit. He wouldn’t miss it. Not the way he would miss the tech he used on the Robin suit.”

“Impressive,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face. He started caressing your cheek gently. It could have been a romantic gesture, but for some reason you thought that it was more threatening. “You’re even wearing contacts to change the color of your eyes. See? I knew you were smart”

“That’s a given,” you scoffed, looking sideways. Anywhere to avoid his eyes, though he was wearing a red domino mask with white lens. “Why do you even wear a mask if you already have a helmet?”

“Why did you wear your lipgloss when you had no obligation to listen to me?” he smirked, his thumb pressed on your shiny lips.

You slapped his hand away and looked at him in defiance as you put on a black bandana over your nose and mouth, tying it behind your head to give you a sense of protected identity.

He chuckled, and let you go.

“This is our rendezvous point. If anything happens, we meet back here. Now hop in,” he walked towards his car.

“Why can’t I take my own vehicle?” you demanded.

“Because I want you next to me,” he grinned, and put on his helmet. The minute it rested on his head, you saw it activate, the white glowing eyes switched on and you heard the very soft sound of his electronic breaths.

You frowned.

It was state of the art tech. You knew it must have had additional features like night vision and zoom lenses, not unlike the one you owned. You wondered where or how he had procured it.

“If that’s your only reason, then I’m taking my bike,” you defied.

He was already going to enter the driver’s seat when he stopped midway. He turned to look at you, and for some reason, it made you shudder.

In a flash, he was already behind you, taking your arms to incapacitate you and slammed your front onto the hood of his car.

He was unbelievably fast- you couldn’t believe that they were human reflexes. It must have been a result of the Lazarus Pit that Bruce briefed you on.

He bent over you, a hand in your hair forcing your head down against the warm car.

“Don’t get too cocky, baby girl,” he cautioned, “I still don’t trust you enough.”

You had to admit that the vulnerable position you were in sort of made your pussy clench.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I’ll go with you.”

You felt the pressure disappear and heard the car door slam. You grumbled and rubbed your cheek, before following suit.

Just because you knew it was Jason, you had let your guard down. You forgot how unstable he actually was. You made a mental reminder to be more cautious of his mood bursts.

You slammed the door shut. The interior of the car looked just as sleek as the exterior, with black leather seats- the passenger and driver’s seat were joined together- and an old school cassette player with nothing playing. The car was spacious and looked like a collector’s car. Again, you were left to wonder where he got it.

“Where are we going?” you asked, looking out the window, trying to avoid how sexy his arms looked when he gripped the steering wheel.

How could arms even be sexy?

“We’re heading to iClub,” he stated.

“On Verne Avenue? The one owned by the Ibenescus’?” you frowned, “They still a problem for you?”

“Big operation. Proud family,” he huffed, “International business. Yes, they’re a problem. They’ve been trying to hide it from me, but my men say they’re still active.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

You felt uneasy.

“Just have a little talk with Victor,” he shrugged, “He’s in charge of the operations now after the Patru Fatri, and the cousins. He’s more distant from the main family, but an Ibenescu nonetheless.”

“Well, I hope the club doesn’t check IDs,” you mumbled jokingly to yourself.

To your surprise, you heard Jason bark out a loud laugh. It was an odd sound coming from the voice scrambler inside his helmet.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rested a hand on your lap, which you felt almost burn, “You look way over 21.”

*** What Gotham lacked in security, it made up with entertainment.

Theatrics.

Its affinity for producing and attracting bizarre individuals always made for good dinner discussion. You just never thought you would be on the side of the crazies.

Jason had parked a couple of blocks away from the club. You recognized the area, as it was just a lane away from The Black Bass Bar, where Jason had decapitated the cousins and put their heads on spikes.

The two of you walked towards the club.

“Listen here,” he started, “This isn’t your area of expertise. You do exactly what I tell you to do. You don’t open your mouth unless I say so. I’ve worked hard to earn fear from these people and I’m not going to let you fuck that up for me. Understood?”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

You noticed how the bouncers started getting nervous when they saw the two of you approaching. They had started to sweat and fidget, trying excessively hard to focus on filtering the going ins and outs of guests.

“Red Hood, sir,” one of them nodded and let the two of you inside. The moment you stepped in, you felt like you were immediately deafened by the loud techno music that was playing, and blinded by the flashing bright lights.

You noticed how many of the customers recognized Red Hood, and flinched away from him, avoiding eye contact. Their gaze would linger longer on you, curiosity in their eyes.

The both of you squeezed past the sweaty dancers on the floor, and towards the VIP area on the other side of the club.

Seated on the long suede purple sofas were three men, each with at least two women on their arms. The moment they saw you approaching, they immediately went rigid.

Red Hood simply strutted to the area and you followed behind him.

“Ah, Red Hood,” the man with straw hair that was slicked back and navy blue shirt that he had left unbuttoned, revealing his hairy chest, greeted. “Take a seat, take a seat! I see you have a guest with you, as well.”

“Victor,” Red Hood nodded, sitting on the chair. He crossed his legs and spread his arms across the back of the sofa, lounging comfortably. He looked over to you and nodded to his side, silently telling you to sit.

You obeyed, though less relaxed than Red Hood. It was slightly quieter at the VIP lounge, but you still had to strain your ears to hear them speak.

“Can I get you a drink, my friend?” Victor offered, “Maybe something for the lady?”

“You want anything, princess?” Red Hood turned to you.

“No, thank you,” you grit.

You hated that he was calling you pet names while in the presence of a crime lord. It was humiliating, and made you feel like you were just an accessory to him, not unlike those hardly dressed girls that were on Victor’s side.

You noticed one of them.

He had his arm wrapped around her waist, but she looked extremely uncomfortable. She was blonde, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline, and didn’t look that much older than you. Even with the layers of badly applied makeup, you could tell she had eyebags and dark circles, perhaps maybe even bruises on her face.

“Angelica,” Victor called a girl from the other end of the sofa, “Come here give my friend some company.”

The girl called Angelica had tanned skin and exotic features, and was a brunette with curls that hung to her hips and was wearing a body hugging deep purple glittery tube dress. She came to sit on Red Hood’s other side, snuggling up close to him and started rubbing her hand on his thigh, and whispered something that you couldn’t hear.

And he just let her.

You clenched your jaw.

No, you couldn’t be jealous. It didn’t make sense for you to be. Yet, the sudden tightness of your chest said otherwise.

You saw Red Hood angled his face slightly towards you, probably to see your reaction.

You couldn’t see it, but you somehow knew he was smirking.

“So what brings you here?” Victor asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

It was the first time you met with an Ibenescu face to face. You thought that they would have a thick accent, but Victor sounded just as American as you and Red Hood.

“I was just wondering how things were going on your end,” Red Hood shrugged.

“Things are going excellent,” he replied, “As you can see, the club is doing great. People are enjoying themselves.”

“And the drugs?” Red Hood brought up.

“Ah, straight to business, like always,” Victor chuckled, “We’ve sold almost all our stock this month. You can come by and get your share of profits any time.”

“Who are your clients?”

“Local distributors, as well as some international ones,” he explained, “With explicit instruction to avoid dealing with the underaged, of course.”

“And how can you be so sure they’re listening?” Red Hood demanded.

“You know us, Red Hood,” he boasted, “The Ibenescu Family is one of the most powerful families in Gotham. Our name is very well known in the underground. We have people everywhere. Our operations span from the Americas, to Europe, to South East Asia.”

“And which operation did you come from, sweetheart?” he addressed the girl next to him.

She looked at him with shock, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Angelica here is from the Philippines,” Victor answered for her, his voice grittier than normal, “She migrated to find work. I provided for her. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she stuttered, “Mister Victor has been very good to me. He gave me a job when others wouldn’t. I am forever grateful for him.”

You frowned at the way she recited those words, almost like she memorized it from a playcard.

“The American dream, as the say,” Victor continued, “My family are very familiar with it. We are immigrants that came a long time ago, and America provided for us. I wanted to do the same for others.”

“Did you now?” Red Hood hummed.

“Of course,” he nodded aggressively, “But enough about me. Who is this ravishing lady you have here? I have not seen you before, my dear.”

You looked at Red Hood, who nodded subtly once.

“I’m V,” you made up on the spot.

“V?” Victor repeated.

“For Vendetta,” you finished.

You heard Red Hood chuckle next to you.

Victor raised an eyebrow, “Well, my dear, you must be special to my good friend Red Hood, here. I didn’t think he was capable of laughter. Where did he hide you all this while?”

“Ah, you see, Victor,” Red Hood cut in, “I did not hide her, because she isn’t mine to hide. V here is her own person, who happened to become partners with me for tonight. People only hide property, and women aren’t property, am I right?”

There was an unmistakable threat in his voice.

“Of course not,” Victor agreed, “I respect women.”

Suddenly, there was a tension in the air as the two men looked at each other.

Then, Victor started laughing.

“You’re too tense, Red Hood,” he boomed, “And you should trust your associates more. Especially the ones who sacrificed their entire industry for you.”

“Sacrifice, huh?” he said softly. Then, Red Hood turned his body towards you, scooting closer to your side. He let his hand rest on your thigh.

“You got my back, baby girl?” he whispered into your ear.

“Yes, but I’m not killing anyone,” you whispered back, “And you shouldn’t either.”

He ignored you and went back to Victor.

“Victor,” Red Hood said, “I’m feeling a little… Restless tonight. I want one of your girls.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Oh?” Victor widen his eyes, “Finally taking up my offer! Of course, of course! Pick anyone of my lovely ladies.”

“I want that one,” Red Hood pointed to the blonde Victor was obviously possessive over.

“Elena?” Victor started laughing awkwardly, “I’m afraid she’s not available, Red Hood. But you’re welcome to choose anyone else. Angel here is very popular.”

“No,” Red Hood insisted, “I want your Elena.”

“That’s not possible,” Victor denied, annoyance on his face, “Elena is only for me.”

“Well, since you respect women so much, let’s hear it from her, huh?” Red Hood teased, “Elena, sweetheart, would you keep me company tonight?”

Elena’s eyes were wide and terrified. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. You felt bad for her and wondered why Red Hood was putting her in such a difficult situation.

“I-I-I’m v-very sorry,” she squeaked. You could hear her thick Romanian accent. “I o-only serve Mister Ibenescu.”

“What, this clown?” Red Hood scoffed, earning a glare from Victor, “Unlike him, I’m sure I can give you a pretty good time.”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, “T-that is not possible.”

Red Hood kept silent.

“There you go, the woman herself said it,” Victor commented, “And you’d want to respect a woman’s wishes right, Red Hood?”

“How old are you?” Red Hood asked softly, ignoring Victor.

“T-twenty-four,” she replied.

“You don’t look twenty-four,” he hummed, “How long have you been working with Victor?”

“Two years,” she automatically responded.

“I see,” he nodded.

You could tell she was lying, about both her age and how long she worked. And you knew Jason caught on as well.

Jason leaned back, taking out his gun from his thigh holster and casually dumped it on the low rise table, clinking against the glass bottles and shot glasses.

Ibenescu tensed up, and then there were about fifteen men who pointed their guns at the two you. You were about halfway standing up, reaching for your escrima sticks when Red Hood caught you by the shoulder to stop you.

You frowned at him, then sat back down.

You noticed that the music had suddenly stopped, and everyone in the club was silently looking, worry in their eyes and preparation to take off if anything were to get out of hand. You guessed that these sort of things happened frequently, and the club probably had a system for when it did.

“Relax, will you?” he growled at everyone, “Was just getting a little uncomfortable there, Jesus Christ.”

Victor nodded at his men, and they set their guns down. The music continued to play and the customers continued to dance as if nothing had happened.

You now knew what he was doing.

From the very beginning, he already planned out what he was going to say and what he was going to do in order to prepare for an inevitable fight. Based on observation, he knew that Elena was Victor’s favourite and that he would not let anyone touch her, so he provoked him by asking for her.

Asking Elena her age and how long she worked was also a calculated and pivotal move. Since both you and Red Hood could tell when someone was lying, the fact that she was indeed hiding what seemed to be minor information told volumes that she wasn’t supposed to be by Victor’s side, meaning that she wasn’t there by choice, and you could assume that she was trafficked.

From there, he confirmed his sources that Victor had not ended his human and sex trafficking trade, and had reasonable reason to attack.

And by putting the gun on the table, however he relaxed he seemed, was a massive power move. He showed that he wasn’t afraid of being unarmed- though, you knew he was probably packing more than one gun. Tactical wise, when Ibenescu’s men showed themselves, they also showed their numbers to you. You now knew where they were, what weapons they used, and how many of them you needed to take down.

You smirked to yourself underneath your improvised mask. You knew already how smart and strategic he was based on how he conquered the underground in only just a few months, but seeing him act in the flesh, you truly appreciated his brain.

“It almost seems like you’re scared of me, Victor,” he drawled, “Are you?”

“You did kill members of my family,” he mumbled.

“It was their fault now, wasn’t it?” Red Hood shrugged, “I told them to stop. They wouldn’t. Now, if you’re not as stupid as they were, Vic, you wouldn’t have to be scared, am I right?”

Red Hood leaned forward towards Victor, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head sideways.

“With all due respect, Red Hood, they were not stupid,” Victor argued, “They were simply protecting the pride of our name.”

“And how about you? You’re not protecting your family’s pride?”

“I prioritize my life over pride,” Ibenescu admitted, “And I respect you as Gotham’s Dark King.”

Dark King? What the fuck?

“Dark King,” Red Hood repeated, laughing lightly, “Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think, princess?”

He elbowed your side playfully.

“A bit cheesy for my taste,” you grit.

“Aw, the missus doesn’t like it. To be fair, I think it’s cheesy too,” he stated, “But you know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

Victor frowned at him in question.

“I said,” Red Hood snarled, “You know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

“W-what, Red Hood?” Victor sputtered.

“People who lie to me,” he growled.

In a blink of an eye, with the speed you had witnessed earlier and many times before, he had managed to stand up, reach for the gun on the table, jumped across and stepped on Victor’s chest who was leaning in panic against the sofa, and cocked the gun towards his head.

All before you could even register his initial movement.

The fifteen men aimed their semi-automatics at Red Hood, prepared to gun him down.

The music had stopped, and from your peripheral vision, you saw the crowd were ushered to the exit in chaos.

“If your men don’t put down their weapons, I’ll shoot,” Red Hood looked down at Victor.

“What is the point, Red Hood?” Victor defied, “You would kill me anyways. I might as well try to take you down with me.”

Red Hood paused for a moment. Then-

“Baby girl?”

You nodded. “Got it.”

The first person you attacked was the one pointing his gun to your back.

The sticks felt unfamiliar, yet refreshing.

You managed to knock him out before he could shoot at you, but by that time others were already pulling their triggers. You locked your next target.

You ran at him and slid on the floor, taking his knees out and simultaneously pushing him into the next person whom you used your stick to hit directly at the centre of his head.

But you could sense a gun being aimed at you, and you dived behind the sofa to use as a shield. You heard glass shattering around you, and on the floor you found someone’s dropped mobile phone. You reached for it, and with aggressive force, sent it spinning through the air and hit the culprit in the eye, blinding him.

You came out of hiding and lunged your sticks at his throat.

You spun around to grab the neck of a semi-automatic and directed it upwards, causing bullets to spray across the club.

Your ears heard nothing but ringing for the next minute.

You pounded onto the guard’s chest using your sticks, and ended the attack with a blow to his temples.

You had counted five, so you reacted quickly to lock on your next target, but when you came out of your adrenaline induced tunnel vision, you noticed everyone else were already lying on the floor.

During the time you knocked out five men, Red Hood had already killed ten.

And now, he was left with a sobbing, begging Victor Ibenescu who was on his knees on the glass covered floor.

“What should I do with you, Vic?” Red Hood drawled, “I’ve already gutted your cousins, put some of them on display. And it was a pretty display, wasn’t it?”

You approached them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a whimpering Elena who was in a fetal position against a toppled over sofa, terror in her eyes.

“P-please,” Victor stuttered, “I promise I’ll shut down the operation, for real this time!”

“I don’t give second chances, Vic,” he told him, “Now I’m just thinking about whether I have the time to skin you alive before the cops show up.”

“Red Hood,” you called out, “You don’t need to. The cops are already on the way- hell, Batman is probably a couple of minutes out. We should leave.”

“And leave him here unpunished?” he jabbed the gun into Vic’s head, causing him to recoil from the heat of the muzzle. “I don’t think so.”

“Red-”

“Elena!” Red Hood barked, “Come here. Now.”

You saw Elena struggle to get onto her feet and limped her way to you.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Red Hood asked, “Should we leave him for the cops to find and deal with, or…”

He looked over to her and gently took her hand, handing her his own gun.

“Do you want to kill him?”

You gaped at Red Hood, just how Elena was.

“M-m-me?” she managed.

“Yes, you,” he confirmed.

“You can’t possibly make her-” you started.

“Don’t you think she’s the one who should decide what happens to him?” he cut you off.

Elena still looked shocked, and held the gun as if it was going to hurt her.

“Hey,” you approached her slowly, “You don’t have to. Once the police come, they’ll take him away and put him behind bars for the rest of his life. You don’t have to be scared anymore. They’ll help protect you.”

The poor girl was shaking so bad, you were worried she might set off the gun accidentally.

“No,” she whispered.

“Elena-” you tried.

“No!” she shrieked at you, causing you to stumble slightly back in surprise, “You- you don’t know. He do things to me! Again and again! He took me. I thirteen! Now I eighteen! No!”

You were utterly speechless. How could you reply to that?

She held the gun properly now, with two hands.

“He made me kill baby. Two times!” she sobbed.

Your heart broke.

She shuffled closer to him.

“Elena, my dear,” Victor started frantically begging, “You’ve always been my favourite. I’ve always treated you well, haven’t I?”

“No!”

BANG!

You heard Victor let out an inhuman screech.

Elena had shot him between the legs. Next to you, you heard Red Hood chuckle.

She pulled the trigger one last time, and crumpled onto the floor at the same time Victor did.

You wanted to approach her, comfort her, anything.

But Red Hood beat you to it.

“Listen to me,” he growled to get her attention since she was sobbing hysterically, “Are you listening?!”

She nodded.

“When the police come, you tell them that I made you shoot, alright? You tell them that I said I would rape you then gut you alive if you didn’t shoot him. You understand me?” he shook her.

“Y-yes,” she hiccuped.

“Repeat it. Tell me what you are going to tell them.”

“R-red Hood say he rape me and kill me if I no shoot,” she bawled.

“Good,” he nodded, “You did good, Elena.”

He then turned to you. “Let’s go.”

The two of you quickly rushed to the exit. You were just about to leave the club when-

“W-wait!” Elena called out, “Red Hood!”

He looked at her.

“T-thank you.”

He left without saying a word.

***

You were being really quiet in the car.

Jason thought that you were still shaken over what had happened.

Sure, maybe you saved people from being mugged or raped, and perhaps even some trafficked girls in the past.

But he was sure that those girls didn’t have the option Jason graciously gave Elena.

Jason thought that you were probably thinking about what those girls you saved in the past would have done if they were granted the same choice.

He sped up, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. His body was still buzzing from leftover adrenaline, and he was itching for something.

An illegal car race. A good old fashioned hand-to-hand combat with somebody who could keep up with him. Hell, even a nice and long jerk off session.

He was bothered by the silence, despite being alone the whole time before this.

He put in a cassette and AC/DC started blasting through the speakers. He saw you jump at the sudden noise.

Somehow the ride back to the rendezvous point seemed longer than expected.

“Why do you still have a cassette player, and cassettes?” you spoke for the first time since the club.

“I’m old school that way,” he jested.

You ignored him and continued looking out the window.

That annoyed him.

Fuck, why was he so fidgety? Why did he want your fucking attention so much?

He felt like that kid in kindergarten who pulled on the pigtails of the girl he liked.

Finally, the both of you were back in the alleyway.

He turned off both the music and the engine, and took off his helmet. He combed through his hair with his hands and tossed the helmet in the backseat. He saw that you had taken your mask off as well, but hadn’t made a move to leave.

So he just sat there with you in silence, unsure of what to do or say- like a fucking idiot.

Fuck.

You were driving him crazy.

Thankfully, you broke the silence.

“What did your sources say about the Ibenescus’ still trafficking girls?” you wondered.

“There was a recent shipment of girls from Philippines, Thailand, Russia, and India,” he explained, “Only the Ibenescus’ would still have the guts to carry out the operation. Like Victor- may he rest in peace- had said, the Ibenescus’ are powerful. They have an international business they just can’t afford to sacrifice.”

“But since Victor is dead, someone else would just take his place,” you frowned in the dark, your outline illuminated only by the single dim street light from outside.

“And I’ll keep on killing every single one of them,” he grit.

“But like you said, it’s an international operation,” you argued, “Even if it was just the States, you can’t possibly stop every single operation under the Ibenescus out there.”

“Just like however much you and Batman patrol at night, you can’t stop every single crime, right?” he sneered.

You remained silent.

“It’s the same fucking thing,” Jason insisted, “Except that Elena got her justice. True and proper justice. Or are you telling me she made the wrong call? That she shouldn’t have shot his balls off and killed him after he raped her for years and made her abort her baby twice?”

“There must be some other way,” you muttered.

Jason was annoyed at how stubborn you were, but frankly he understood.

Because that’s what Batman did. He brainwashes you into thinking that his way was the only way.

“What if I told you that one fifth of the trafficked girls were aged below twelve?” he said softly, “What if I told you that the Ibenescus’ have been providing the elite pedophile rings with children? Would you want there to be some other way?”

You looked at him, shocked.

“Elite pedophile ring?” you gaped.

“Batman didn’t tell me either when I was Robin,” he grumbled, “It’s either he didn’t know about it, or he kept it a secret from us. And knowing him, I doubt it’s the former. Weren’t there days where he insisted on being alone?”

You frowned, taking in everything Jason had said. He was proud of himself. Just after a few hours with him, he could already see your resolve faltering.

“As long as I can clear Gotham of sex trafficking, as long as there are less girls like Elena here, and as long as there are no more children involved, I’m satisfied,” he continued, “That’s what I do. I give out justice and fix things. I know most victims like her don’t get the opportunity to get closure the way she did, so I’ll be the one to make that decision and carry it out for them.”

“Oh, so you’re supposedly Gotham’s savior, then? A fucking Angel of Death or something?” you answered sarcastically.

“Didn’t you hear Vic?” he chuckled, “I’m the fucking Dark King.”

You scoffed, and crossed your arms, still looking outside.

“You were pretty good with the sticks,” Jason commented, changing the subject. “Though definitely not as good as Dick.”

Fuck, why was he still talking to you?

“I don’t usually use them,” you shot him a glare that Jason thought was more cute than threatening, “I usually use Krav Maga.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with your subpar fighting skills,” he smirked.

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, “The Pit gave you peak human abilities. You can’t compare yourself to me.”

Of course Bruce knew it was the Pit that revived Jason.

“Baby girl, I was much better than you when I was Robin,” he poked.

Why was he teasing you like this? Flirting with you like he was normal?

Joking with you as if he wasn’t planning to hurt you?

“I doubt it,” you pouted.

Even in the dim light, Jason could still make out the shiny traces of lipgloss that were still left on your lips.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand to your chin, and pressed his thumb against your lips, sticky from the lipgloss.

He saw the way your breath hitched in surprise, the way your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, the way you gulped.

“Why do you like my lipgloss so much?” you spoke, lips brushing against his thumb.

Fuck.

“Because, baby girl,” he drawled and scooted closer to you, “Ever since day one, I kept on imagining your shiny, wet lips around my cock.”

A small gasp escaped your mouth.

Which made his cock start to fill up.

“Want to make my fantasies a reality, princess?” he smirked.

“Why would I?” you whispered, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“It’s not about owing me,” he came closer, now rubbing his thumb all over your lips, smudging your lipgloss, and picking up some of your spit. “It’s about helping each other out.”

He gripped your waist with his other hand, rubbing up and down through your armor.

“Didn’t you like last night?” he purred, gripping your thigh. He noticed how you easily spread them wider apart.

“Didn’t you come all over my cock?” he forced his thumb inside your mouth, hooking it at your lower teeth and forced your face closer to his.

“Didn’t you wear your lipgloss anyway just to get my attention?” he smirked.

He had expected you to pull away, or even bite his fucking finger, but to his surprise, your lips closed in on his thumb.

And you started sucking.

All while looking up at him with your innocent, puppy dog eyes.

And for some reason, even though it was just his one fucking thumb, he felt like he was being consumed by the warmth and the wetness and the fucking softness of your mouth.

Jason was in trouble now.

Because you had started swirling your tongue around his finger as you sucked.

Jason couldn’t hold back his groan.

And from the delight he saw you in your eyes, he already knew what type you were.

You were the type to get turned on by his pleasure, his approval, his praises.

Typical Robin complex.

“Baby girl,” he breathed, “I’m not going to come unless you do the exact same thing but with my cock instead.”

He smirked when you gave him an irritated look, but then-

“Ow! Fuck!” he snatched his hand away.

You fucking bit his finger.

Again.

And this time you were looking at him with complete smugness.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, princess,” he growled. Then, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged you to him roughly, forcing his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you violently and grabbed your tits which were still covered by all your-

“Fuck, why do you wear so much fucking armor,” he gasped.

“Because I’d like to actually live in case I get shot,” you shot back at him.

Jason glared at you. He usually loved your attitude, but somehow he felt really irritated by you that night. You weren’t as snarky and confident the night before. Obviously you were less nervous, and less afraid of him.

He needed to change that.

In a flash, he pushed you hard against the locked door of his car, earning a shocked gasp from you. He crawled over to you , engulfing your body with his own.

It was hard to move in the car, but the compact setting made Jason feel like he was trapping you in a cage.

He put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly while he attacked your mouth with his own again. This time, his kisses were less pretty.

He bit and nipped at your lips, your tongue, forcing both of your teeth to click together.

He could hear you panting hard, and moaning into his mouth, sometimes letting out soft whimpers.

“You trying to sass me, baby?” he breathed over your face, lips brushing against yours. He increased the force of his throttle.

“You forget who’s in charge here?” he whispered, appreciating the way your mouth just fucking fell open.

“Who’s in charge, princess?” he growled.

He saw your eyes roll upwards, your lids fluttering close, and felt your thighs squeeze together.

Fuck.

Were you getting fucking turned on by his choking?

“Y-you,” you said in stuttered breaths.

“That’s right, baby,” he let go of your neck, causing you to gasp for air.

Then, Jason leaned back against the door on his side, and parted his legs.

He was glad the Impala’s seats were joined, without any annoying bumps that parted the passenger and driver’s seat. It allowed more room to move around.

Once he saw you catch your breath, he patted to the spot between his legs.

“My cock ain’t gonna suck itself,” he smirked.

He could see the fire in your eyes as you came over to him, bent on all fours. You laid on the seat on your belly, your mouth close to his cock that was borderline becoming extremely painful.

He had to wear protective cups while he worked, which meant that getting an erection was excruciating.

He tilted his head in curiosity when he saw you stare at his thigh holsters, biting your lower lip.

“You see something you like?” he teased.

Your gaze snapped back at him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. You ignored his question and started working on his belt buckle.

Once they were off, you impatiently pulled his pants down, but was puzzled when you saw his jockstraps.

He almost laughed when he saw the confusion etched on your features.

“They’re just like normal briefs, baby, but with extra protection,” he winked, cupped his junk, and gave it a little shake to make a point.

“I- I knew that,” you fumbled, and went to hook your fingers in the elastic waistband. You brought them down with some difficulty, as they were tight.

But Jason enjoyed seeing you struggle, so he let you figure it out.

And boy, the look on your face when you finally took his cock out.

He hissed at the relief when his cock slapped back onto his lower abdomen when it was free, but your expression made him chuckle.

“Did- did I really have that inside me last night?” your voice went up an octave.

“Inside you, and outside, and inside, and outside,” he gave you a shit eating grin.

“Very funny,” you glared, but gulped again at the sight of his erection, “Jeez. No wonder I couldn’t walk properly all day.”

“And I assure you, every single time I fuck you, you wouldn’t be able to- ah, fuck!” he got cut off by the pleasure that suddenly shot up his spine when you gripped his shaft hard.

He looked at you and saw you gave the same cheeky grin back.

Fucking hell.

You bent down, and gave a small experimental lick at the tip of his cock. He could see the way your eyebrows knitted together, how your eyes were so full of fucking contemplation. Like you were thinking of a strategy to make him come undone.

You started lapping your tongue a few more times over the head of his penis before taking the tip into your mouth and started sucking softly.

Jason groaned, and then reached his hand to tangle into your hair. Not to control your movements, not to show you how it’s done, but just because he needed to grip something.

From the tip, he saw you let your saliva drool down his shaft, making it glisten. Then, you sunk down and took more of him in. You got too ambitious, because you went down too fast and then he felt you gag around his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he felt your fucking throat try to push him out, “Take it slow, baby. We have all night.”

You released him from your mouth and gasped for air, a string of saliva connecting his tip to your mouth, tears streaming down your face, eyes and nose red.

Shit.

It was a fucking sight, alright.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sputtered, “I wasn’t sure- I don’t- it’s my first time.”

And holy hell, did Jason’s heart flutter at your innocent apology.

“It’s okay,” he wiped the tears from your cheeks like he was your lover, like he fucking cared. “It feels great when you gag on my cock, but you don’t have to take it all in at once. Here.”

He pushed your head back down to take him in rough, but not too rough.

Jason needed to be a little forceful, a little violent with you. He needed to hide the fact that you sucking on his cock for the first time didn’t flick a switch of emotion within him.

“You take in as much as you can,” he panted, “And your hand can do the rest.”

He wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

“So when you go up,” he pulled your hair to guide you up his length, slick with your spit and his precum.

“Your hand follows your mouth,” he gripped your hand and moved it upwards as well, following the motion. “And don’t forget to suck.”

He saw that you got the hang of it pretty fast, and soon, Jason was groaning and moaning, and tugging at your hair.

He fought hard to not cant his hips upwards and start fucking your mouth. He fought hard to be considerate, to not hurt you, to not give you too much of what you could handle.

He didn’t want a repeat of the night before.

Yet, the fire in his belly and the dark voices inside his head told him to grip your head with both his hands and fucking use your mouth like a toy.

But, no. Jason was in control. And he didn’t want that. Not tonight.

He saw that you were watching him as you bobbed your head in motion, and he knew you were enjoying the sight of him. He felt vulnerable to you, open and exposed.

He hated that feeling. The shame of being laid out like that when someone was watching him-it made him feel small and guilty.

But the shame and humiliation and guilt was what made the whole thing more enjoyable.

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his gut tightening, his toes curling in his steel boots.

“Stop,” he rasped, pulling you away.

You looked at him with worry in your eyes that made Jason almost come anyway.

“I- I was close,” he explained.

“Isn’t that the point?” you smirked.

“Wanna fuck you first,” he murmured.

Then, you started blushing.

“Uhm, it still hurts a lot from yesterday,” you answered sheepishly, biting your lip awkwardly.

It reminded Jason of how you were with him the first time he met you at the library, how you were shy and a blushing mess, when you didn’t know his identity. It seemed so long ago, and for the first time, he wished things could go back to being that way.

“Fine,” he gruffed, “Come back down here, then.”

When you started sucking on him again, he added, “Didn’t know you were so weak. Thought you’d be used to getting thrown around by now.”

It really wasn’t fair for him to say that, and he knew it was hurtful.

But he wasn’t the good guy in this story.

You shot him a glare, and then popped his dick out.

“Jason, my mouth was around your cock when you said that, and if I were to accidentally bite you, well,” you retorted.

“You wouldn’t do that, baby,” he chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, princess,” he drawled, and forced you to continue sucking, “My cock- ungh- is your favourite part of me, isn’t it?”

And as if you conceded, admitting he was right, you started to suddenly increase the pace. Filthy wet sounds filled the car as Jason heard the sound of rain in the background, and noticed that the inside of his windows had started to fog up.

Your warm, wet mouth consumed him whole, and he felt his balls tighten and tighten.

“Baby,” he gasped, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

Despite his warnings, you still went on, as if you were determined to finish your job.

He groaned loud and long as he spilled his cum inside your mouth.

He felt you fucking drink it up.

Fuck.

When he was done blowing his load, you were giving him soft, gentle licks on his now sensitive cock.

And you then you sat up and smiled proudly.

“You waiting for me to give you a candy, or some shit?” he snickered, “Or a gold star?”

“Maybe you should,” you huffed and crossed your arms, sitting back properly in the passenger seat.

Jason put his pants back on, and sat up as well.

But then he noticed you squirming slightly, your respiratory rate fast, small pants escaping you. You were clenching your thighs together.

He smirked.

He reached out and caressed your cheek with one finger.

“Want me to help you out?” he offered.

“I’m fine,” you said, “I’ll deal with it later. I should go back soon. What time is it?”

“Almost two,” he glanced at the dashboard clock.

“Batman and Nightwing are probably just leaving the club by now,” you said out loud, “I’m sure they’ll keep on patrolling, though. Unless they got a clue.”

“Clue?”

“Yeah,” you hummed absentmindedly, looking outside at the rain.

You remained silent for a while.

Jason hated the silence.

Then-

“It’s your face, by the way,” you started.

“What?”

“Your face. My favourite part of you,” you avoided Jason’s eyes.

Jason was taken aback at your confession.

Why would his face be your favourite part? He had scars all over, eyebags and bloodshot eyes, and he was pretty sure his nose was more crooked than average.

“You’re good looking,” you said as if you were mad.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” Jason blurted before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him in surprise.

Fuck.

He fucked up.

He wanted to punch himself.

What were the two of you doing? It wasn’t like it was a fucking date. It wasn’t like he cared about you that way. It wasn’t like he wanted you all to himself, and never let go.

Fuck.

He was done being the charming, kind, gentleman Jason Haywood.

So why was he still acting like he was?

***

“Where were you?” Dick demanded when you opened the door.

He was still in his Nightwing uniform, sans the mask.

“What?”

“Alfred said you weren’t around, and you left your phone at home,” he persisted, “Where did you go?”

“I got some junk,” you pointed to the big bag of junk food on your bed.

“Alfred said he noticed you weren’t around at midnight, and you only just got back an hour ago. It took you almost three hours just to get junk?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I went to see Carter.”

“Why did you leave your phone?”

“I forgot, okay?” you exasperatedly flailed your hands. “I’m grounded from patrol, not from going out. What’s the big deal?”

Dick frowned at you.

Your heart was beating so hard you were afraid he could hear it.

“Where did you meet him?” he continued to interrogate.

There were no more room for half truths.

“Robinson Park,” you answered, “We spent some time in his car. Lost track of time. And- you know what? I don’t even need to tell you all of this! It’s none of your business, Dick.”

“There was someone new with Jason tonight,” he stated.

Fuck.

“Someone new?” you repeated, tilting your head in feigned curiosity.

“A girl,” he continued, “She’s skilled.”

You frowned. “Who is she?”

“Eye witness said she calls herself V,” he told you, “She uses escrima sticks and a form of arnis and silat hybrid.”

“Hmm,” you pondered, “And? Is she someone you and Jason knew?”

“We’ve been wondering about that,” he muttered.

Your eyes widen.

“You think that was me?!” you shrieked.

“You tell me!” Dick retorted.

“Why, Dick?” you shouted, “Why?”

“You were out for god knows how long and suddenly Jason has a girl with your knowledge of martial arts at his side?” he snarled, “What else am I supposed to think?”

“One, fucking anyone could learn martials arts!” you argued, “Two, I was out with Carter yesterday as well! There wasn’t anyone with Red Hood yesterday!”

“Red Hood wasn’t seen yesterday,” he debated, “And you haven’t even shown me a picture of this Carter you’re seeing. What’s his last name? Where is he from? You need to tell me. You need to tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you grit, “You need to figure out your bullshit, Dick!”

“What?”

“I get it, okay,” you sighed, and sat down on your bed, “Jason, your brother, he betrayed your trust. He’s angry at Bruce, but why didn’t he come to you?”

Dick simply looked at you.

“You trusted Jason when he was Robin, as family,” you explained, “The way you trusted me. And now that trust is destroyed, you’re questioning me as well.”

You looked at him with a sad smile.

“I’m not like Jason, Dick,” you tried to convince him, “I’m me. I’m your sister. I have no reason to hurt you or Bruce. I love you both. Okay?”

Dick stared at you, and you saw tears pooling his eyes.

That made your heart sink to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he blinked away the tears, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you got up and hugged him. He hugged you back tightly, pressing his cheek into the top of your head, “I love you, Dick. I’ll help you guys out with this, okay? I mean, I know I’m not as good as either of you, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah,” he sniffled, “Thank you. Can’t wait for you to get back in uniform.”

“Me too,” you replied, holding back your own tears while you thought about how fucked you were.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #batman #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #dceu #dc universe #under the red hood

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imagine-that-one-thing · 5 years ago

Text

Her Majesty. || 5

Against All Odds.

The morning of the Royal Ascot has been nothing short of chaotic, between dress changes and carriage rotations, everyone has been a mess, especially Harry. Every year, the Royal Ascot tests his abilities and how well he can handle change. He hates the Royal Ascot, and he has reason to hate it so much. With every public outing there are revised plans that he has to go through, he has to know every entry, every exit, every underground area, he has to know every plan like the back of his hand. He has to be on high alert and if one plan changes even slightly, they all change and it sends security into a whirlwind of anxiousness. Every minute of the event is generally planned, from when and where the carriages arrive, to how long we spend greeting people.

Over 300,000 people make the annual visit to Berkshire during Royal Ascot week, that is over 300,000 people Harry has the privilege of scanning and observing, it is much harder to take note of things when there are too many people to have to notice. But, every year, Harry manages and the rest of security manage to make things work.

I shuffle out of my bedroom and I glance to my left where Harry is standing, like he always is, his hands behind his back, his lips pressed into a fine line, and his clothing attire being of which he always sports to events— suit and tie.

He stares at me and smirks softly, “You look beautiful, as always,” He whispers sweetly, causing the butterflies in the pit of my stomach to arise. “Absolutely beautiful,” He adds, his hand grazing the edge of my white Reiss Peacock dress.

I nod my head, giving him a meagre smile as my maids step out of my bedroom, not giving me a chance to speak to Harry or to steal a kiss from him.

Harry escorts me down the stairs and when I reach the bottom. I frown for a moment, unsure of why my Prince is not waiting for me. I gaze over at Harry and he smirks, continuing to walk with me across the marble flooring and through the palace to the exit door.

Harry and I step outside into the cool air of the morning summer, there’s barely a cloud in the sky, the birds are chirping— it is the perfect day for the Royal Ascot. “Why are you smirking? Where is Henry?” I softly question, curious as to where my fake boyfriend is. A real gentleman and Prince would have been waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs instead of having my bodyguard escort me down.

Harry holds his composure, continuing to silently escort me along the path of the gardens before we stop in the private driveway. I stand for a minute, my head cocking to the side as I stand before Henry, my Father and what I presume to be a thoroughbred.

Harry unlinks his arm from mine and resumes his position behind me. “Good morning, Princess,” Henry greets, his hand holding a lead rope as the horse stands tall, not moving in the slightest.

“Good morning,” I respond, “Why is there a horse right here?” I challenge my Father. I don’t suspect that now is the perfect time to want to play with horses.

My father smiles broadly and places his hand gingerly on the horse, petting it ever so delicately, “Prince Henry bought you a horse, how thoughtful.”

“You bought me a horse?” I question, gazing towards the prince.

I hear Harry stifle a laugh from behind me, “How thoughtful,” Harry pipes in as I stare at the two men in front of me, hopeful this is a joke.

I may be royal, but I do not do horses. I am not an equestrian. It is a royal tradition for royals to learn how to ride, however, I am the exception to the rule. Growing up, my parents’ would put me on horses, I could ride around accompanied by a parent, but to ride alone, I could never do it. I never trusted the horses enough to be able to saddle one up and go for a leisurely ride on my own. After the first few panic attacks and fits, my mother convinced my father to let it go and to allow me to stick to things that were more up my alley. I am the only royal who cannot ride a horse, everyone else is well trained, which means I tend to watch the polo matches from the sidelines while my father participates. Every now and again, the King and Queen will ride around Windsor Castle estate, but I do not participate in their morning rides.

My mother loves horses, when she does not have royal duties, she can usually be found at the stables watching her horses train or she is participating in the training herself.

“Father, you know I do not ride,” I inform my father who is conscious of my lack of riding abilities.

“You will have to learn, a Queen must know how to ride, come here and take the lead rope, we can walk her to the stables.”

My heart begins to beat fast at the simple idea of stepping any closer to the horse who is far from a Shetland pony.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia needs to be heading towards the procession, as do you, you are presenting the winning trophies in the King's Stand Stakes, don’t forget,” Harry informs the King of the fact he is currently cutting that fine line and about to ruin the schedules that have been set.

For once, Harry’s set times are a blessing in disguise.

My Father looks down at his watch and nods his head, “Take Anastasia and Henry,” My father instructs, taking the lead rope from Henry and beginning to walk the horse himself.

Henry steps closer to me with a bright smile, he takes my hand as he glares towards Harry. For a moment, I hold my breath, feeling the overpowering testosterone rising between the three of us. Harry doesn’t say a word, instead, he gestures his hand for us to walk in front of him.

My heels sound against the concrete as we make our way towards the white horses and carriages that will accompany us to the track promptly by 2 pm. Each day of the week begins with the Royal Procession, when The King, Queen and accompanying Members of the Royal Family arrive along the track in horse-drawn landaus. We then spend the day watching the races from the Royal Enclosure. It’s always intriguing to walk alongside the carriages and to see who is riding with who. Most of the time, the lineup is picked for media attention, hence why my father ordered for Henry to be in the carriage with me, usually, I sit alone and across from me is usually a royal couple.

I mentally roll my eyes when we stop at the second Royal Carriage that is accompanied by Annabel, Duchess of Wessex, and Prince Louis.

Prince Louis and I grew up together, we always played on the grounds of the palace and we’d spend hours chasing each other around the gardens. We always kept security on their toes, and things didn’t change until he met his duchess. She holds no high title by blood but she tries to act like her title is rightfully hers. She’s what I like to call a stuck up royal. She and I have never seen eye to eye since the moment we met, and we probably never will see eye to eye until the day we die.

I stand politely, awaiting for Prince Henry to assist me with stepping up into the carriage, but he forgets his manners and etiquette and instead hops up himself, taking a seat as if I am not standing here. Without sounding too much like a princess, I am baffled and quite appalled by his lack of nobility. The lady ALWAYS enters the carriage first, there is no exception, it is common cutesy.

“Princess,” Harry offers his hand, offering me a sweet smile. I press my hand in his and he assists with getting me in the carriage, of course, without the help of Henry who is too busy adjusting his tophat. Harry nods his head towards Louis and his partner before he impolitely places an umbrella in the lap of Henry, “Hold this for Princess Anastasia.” Harry instructs before closing the carriage door, leaving Henry irritated.

Prince Louis is kind enough to introduce himself to Henry, taking control of the situation and calming Henry by taking the Umbrella and placing it to rest against the carriage door.

♔

I’m not much of a fan of the horse races in the aspect of having to be a Royal and treat this as an event, there are eyes always on me and I still have to act in a certain manner. I can thank Queen Anne for turning horse races into a royal activity. Ascot Racecourse was founded in 1711 by Queen Anne and ever since has been a major event that royals attend.

The Royal enclosure, however, is quite lovely. The Royal Enclosure was built in 1822 when King George IV commissioned a two-storey stand to be built with the surrounding lawn. This was designated an exclusive area with access strictly by invitation of the King. To this day, membership to the Royal Enclosure continues to be by invitation only. Every individual who has a membership and will be in the Enclosure is monitored and a background check is thoroughly run. Harry knows of every person who will be in the enclosure and he has to watch their behaviour. He hates it just as much as he hates being out in the public areas, but the good thing is that being invited to the Royal Enclosure is hard. To get in without a direct invitation, one must sign up, which is easy, but what the hard part is providing letters of recommendation from two existing Royal Enclosure members who have themselves been members in good standing for a minimum of four years— this is where Harry’s job gets a little easier, for the most part, new entries don’t happen often. The only thing Harry enjoys about this event has nothing to do with the horses, he isn’t formally allowed to bet since he is on duty, but he likes to bet on the colour of Her Majesty’s hat. It is a tradition that people bet on what colour they believe my mother will wear, and it is such a big deal that not even I know what colour my mother’s hat is until I see her in the morning and sometimes she will change hats before arriving at the venue.

Henry stands beside me, rambling on about his knowledge of horses and trainers, and I cock my head to the side with a meagre smirk, keen to put his expertise to the test. “Well, bet on a horse,” I motion towards the betting stations set up. If he is so great with horses and knows the trainers, he will be able to pick a winning horse.

Henry nods his head and lifts his shoulders into a shrug confidentially, almost as if he is shrugging me off, “How much are you betting?”

I grow withdrawn for a moment, unsure of how much to bet, I am not much of a better, to be quite honest, Harry and I place very diminutive bets between us just as jokes, we tend to bet on the horse with the least odds and chuckle to ourselves when they are the last to finish— we like to take a chance on the least favourite of odds. “What? Too scared to bet? I’ll give you money to bet.” Henry nudges me and I find him to be a bit arrogant and not playful.

I offer him a polite smile, “Two-thousand,” I respond, “How about you?” I challenge.

Henry adjusts his suit jacket and scoffs, “Twenty-thousand, go big or go home, sweetheart,” Henry uses a condescending and impudent tone with me. I don’t need to turn around to know Harry is far from impressed and more than likely has his fist curled into a ball, angered by the tone that has been used on me.

I gesture towards the betting station and I allow Henry to wander off while I stand in the same position. I clear my throat as Harry steps closer, closing the small gap behind me. “Are you betting?” I question softly as I glance over my shoulder.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “I love you,” he manages to whisper just for us to hear as nobody is around us.

I smile to myself and I turn around to face him and I mouth I love you back to him as I point towards the betting station. We both walk towards the betting station and Henry steps closer to me with a smug grin, his ticket in his hand. “So, which horse are you betting on?”

I shrug my shoulders, unsure of which horse to pick as I have said, I have always betted for the fun of it and chosen the least likely to win horse. As Henry continues to stare at me with that self-righteous grin that irritates me, I turn to Harry, “Suggestions?”

Harry narrows his eyes on me and I bite my lip— I have stepped out of line— I was not meant to turn to him and bring him into this. Harry shakes his head, “I cannot participate.” His participation in betting is meant to be kept between him and me.

“Of course you can, mate, it’s jus’ for fun,” Henry pipes in, pressing his hand to Harry’s shoulder as if they are best mates.

Harry eyes Henry, his jaw clenching at the touch of Henry but Harry holds his composure and forces a small smile as he clears his throat, “If I was to bet, I would try my luck with horse number eight.” Harry informs me.

I glance at the odds and I take a chance on what Harry suggests, Afterall, it doesn’t really matter if I win or lose, this is all for entertainment and an endeavour to hopefully kill Henry’s ego.

“Well, place yourself a bet,” Henry signals between Harry and the betting station as I step to the side, managing to take Harry’s side.

“Put me down for one-hundred pounds on horse eight, please,” Harry instructs as he continues to keep his eyes shifting, still doing his job and not letting his guard down.

Henry laughs, “That all? The Palace not pay you well?” Henry questions and I shake my head at him, disappointed.

A prince should not act in such manner nor should a prince ever speak down to someone, especially when it comes to wealth. It is none of Henry’s business how much Harry earns or cares to spend. I am not sure what has gotten into Henry, but he is lacking royal etiquette and he is lacking human decency. My Father would be appalled to know the man he chose to be my boyfriend, the man he wants to see as the King beside me, is currently being condescending not just to myself but to others as well.

Harry clears his throat before raising a brow, “Make that ten-thousand,” Harry ups his bet, taking us all by surprise, especially me.

The lady holds the ticket out and Harry gestures for me to take it, he can’t step any closer than he already is, if he does, he breaches his defences and he puts me at risk because his back will be entirely turned and he no longer has a view of everyone. I take the ticket between my fingers and I smile towards Henry, “Well, may the best horse win, let’s go get our spot,” I smile, ready to finally take a moment to sit down for a moment while they prepare for the last race of the day.

I sit and watch as the horses are walked along the track, making their way to the gates where they will be tested with how well they handle the commotion of everything.

Moments later, all horses are situated and the gates open; the horses are off and the crowd cheers.

The horses reach the last three- hundred meters and I watch in awe as the horses compete, two of them neck and neck as the finish line gets closer and closer. I bite my lip nervously, my foot tapping as the excitement and joy flow through my veins, I can hear the enthusiasm of others getting louder, cheers exasperating as the horses continue to run.

I glance over at Harry as he is standing beside me, his lips curving up into a grin as he takes a moment to watch the race, catching the last few moments. I look back to the track and I am left stunned, jaw-dropped, you could say. The two horses that were neck and neck have fallen behind and a new leader takes over the position of first place. I gasp, my heart beats faster while the horse Harry and I picked takes the lead and puts a fair distance between the other horses.

“Oh, my,” I breathe out while Henry attempts to cheer his horse that is struggling to keep its position of fourth place.

I do my best to hold my composure as our horse reaches the finish line.

Harry picked the winning horse, he put Henry to shame and managed to kill his high strung ego.

“You won,” I happily exclaim, nudging Harry as he stands, looking unamused due to his job, but deep down, I know very well and good he is pleased with himself.

Harry shakes his head, “I believe it is you who won, you have the ticket,” Harry winks just as Henry throws his ticket up in the air dramatically.

“Bloody horse,” Henry utters with a huff. “And it was a Filly I lost to.”

I smile graciously and tenderly nudge Henry in a playful manner, “Look’s like the best horse won, huh,” I chuckle, “It’s okay, what happens on the track, stays on the track. Even if you did lose to a girl.”

Henry glares at me and I notice his jaw clench, and it is in this moment I realise he isn’t being playful and that he is taking this seriously. He shakes his head at me and steps away, “Henry,” I call but he ignores me, he hurries away and loses himself in the crowd of others before I can manage to bat an eye.

I look towards Harry, unsure of what just happened. Harry doesn’t say a word, instead, he stays in bodyguard mode, simply watching the people around us and keeping a close eye on the particular small crowd in front of us on the track.

I am unsure whether I am meant to chase after Henry or whether I am meant to let him go. I am not one to chase, especially when I am not in love with the man and by the looks of things and by how he is acting today, he isn’t remotely in love nor interested in me. He is self-absorbed and he has shone an unsatisfactory light on himself in public. With so many eyes being on us, there has to be at least one person who saw what happened and is willing to report it to the media. This isn’t the kind of publicity that we want or need.

I gaze towards Harry, looking for some sort of guidance. I see Harry roll his eyes before he sighs heavily, “Do I really have to do damage control?” He questions and I nod my head, narrowing my eyes onto him. I can tell he doesn’t want to do damage control, he couldn’t care less about Henry and he hates the fact that Henry is currently on his service as well. Harry tilts his head to his left shoulder slightly, “Horse Boy has galloped off, trotting south of my location.”

I raise a brow at the code-name selected for Henry, I am well-aware Harry had to have chosen it. The alternative names given are used over secure networks so that bodyguards can ensure that he will be able to move the royal family members in and out of specific locations. Code-names change on a basis so that nobody catches who is linked to each name. “Horse boy, really?” I challenge Harry.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a small shrug, doing his best to conceal the smirk painting across his lips, “Let’s go. He is heading to the stables.” Harry instructs, gesturing for me to head in the same direction that Henry took off running in. I pick up the umbrella that we have been carrying around all day before I make my way along the path of Harry’s directions.

Harry and I attempt to locate Henry, but it is a struggle when I am stopped every few steps to talk to other royals on their way out or to simply smile for a camera. The last race has ended, which means everyone is beginning to make their way out, just as I should be, but instead, Harry and I are trying to get to the stables to where Harry assumes Henry has run off too.

It is beyond me on how my father managed to pick such an ill-fitting prince to be my partner. I am starting to wish I had of had my say and picked myself, better still, I should have come clean about the relationship between Harry and I. But, at the end of the day, I know that our relationship will not be accepted. If only people placed their bets on us, even with the odds against us, instead, people prefer to place their bets on the more superior. I always go against the odds but right now, the odds are against me, therefore, I am against myself.

I feel a droplet of rain grace my skin, I look up and notice the ominous clouds forming over us, making their way across the sky in a swift manner. I open my umbrella and I step off the gravel path. I walk along the grass, attempting to reach the very edge of the fence where horses are just now starting to make their way to the stables.

I carry the umbrella over my head, the rain coming down heavily, patting the umbrella brutally but creating a moderately calming tone. If I had been told that my day would have ended in a Prince acting like a child and running off, leaving me in the rain unsure of where he is, I would have laughed. I never expected to see a grown man throw a temper tantrum, especially in public.

I welcome a hand press over mine, “Allow me,” Harry instructs, taking the umbrella from my hand. Harry holds the umbrella over me while he stands in the rain and the umbrella shields me from the intense rain.

I turn to face him, “Stand under it with me.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’m not allowed. I will hold the umbrella. A Princess does not hold her own umbrella… Your Prince should be holding it.”

“He is,” I respond with a small wink before I turn back around and continue walking, the rain coming down heavily on us while we make our way closer to where the horses are stationed and unwinding before they will be transported to their stables.

I glance around, disappointed that the man who is intended to be my boyfriend appears to have disappeared and left me in the downpour to combat the media and the crowds on my own. He was here to serve as a purpose, not only to show his presence as my boyfriend to everyone who wasn’t at the garden party but to also draw attention to a new budding romance that could turn into more. My father needs the media to spark its attention towards us— the monarch is ready to change— my father wants to hand over the reins and pass down the crown but he can’t do so unless the public is on his side and approve of not only me as the queen but my partner.

“I’m sorry, Anastasia,” Harry distracts me from my thoughts as I observe the horses from a distance being walked around.

I turn to gaze at Harry, facing him as he continues to keep me dry from the rain, meanwhile, he’s wholly soaked. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry your Prince left you.” Harry appears sincere and genuine with his apology.

He and I both know that I am the one who will have to deal with the backlash of whatever Henry has caused on today’s outing.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. I don’t have words to say. This isn’t Harry’s fault. This is all my fault. I truly have nobody to blame besides myself. I am the one who is being held to high standards thanks to a monarchy.

“Why do you look so sad?”

I look at Harry as he continues to stand in the pouring rain while holding an umbrella over me like a true gentleman, “The odds are against me; the odds are against us, Harry.”

“It will be okay, Anna.”

I shake my head, “This is my fault. We don’t know where he went, he could be doing more damage. I-I, I am sorry I didn’t just tell everyone about us.”

“Shh,” Harry hushes me immediately, “We will figure it out. Henry will be fine, right now isn’t the place for this discussion, we are being watched.” Harry informs me and I heavily sigh.

The worst thing about having my boyfriend as my bodyguard is that sometimes when he is on duty he has to stay strictly as my bodyguard and can’t step into boyfriend mode.

“I’d like to go home, please,” I inform Harry and he nods his head.

Harry takes his phone out and makes the calls he needs to in order to assure everything is in order for me to leave promptly and without issues.

Harry escorts me to a blacked-out car with his head of security waiting by the car with an umbrella. Whenever the head of security is waiting for me, it means Harry is handing me off.

“Matthew will take you to the Palace,” Harry informs me as I step under the head of security’s umbrella, allowing Harry to finally hold the umbrella over his own head despite the fact he is already soaked, his hair is damp and droplets are falling from his soft curls, his white shirt has become slightly see-through I can see the slight outline of his abs as the shirt clings to his body.

“Why?”

“You’re right, she does ask a lot of questions,” Matthew chuckles, “He needs to go find Henry, Plus, you said you preferred my service better, I am not as stiff as Harry,” Matthew lightens the mood with a small joke, finally forcing a small chuckle to escape my lips.

“Finally, she smiles,” Harry grins, “I will come past your wing when I get done.”

I nod my head and I quickly look around to make sure nobody is around to be able to hear me speak. “I love you,” I softly whisper.

“I love you, too,” Harry responds before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Get in the car. Let’s get you home safely and without a big exit like the garden party.” Harry opens the door, returning to bodyguard mode and gesturing for me to get in the car.

I get into the car with ease and I rest back against the leather seats, glad to finally be closer to getting home. Today has been long and tiring.

I view Harry and Matthew talk outside and I watch them intently for a moment, curious as to what they are discussing. I can only assume most of their conversation right now will be revolved around finding Henry. Having a Royal on the loose is not something anybody wants. What I don’t understand is why Henry is so short-fused and why he felt the need to run off like a child who was told he couldn’t have the last slice of pizza.

As Matthew gets in the driver’s seat of the car, I watch Harry walk off into the distance before the car begins to move. I stare out the window, watching the droplets of rain slide down.

I lean my head against the window and close my eyes for a moment but I am quickly distracted by the sound of Matthew’s voice. “He loves you, you know?”

“Harry?” I question, “Did he put you up to this conversation that is about to take place?”

Matthew chuckles as he looks in his rearview mirror at me, “Am I talking to the Princess or?”

“This is off the record. I am off royal duty.” I respond, assuring Matthew that whatever is said in the car will stay in the car.

For the most part, conversations between Harry and Matthew are generally off the record. Sometimes they are the only times I get to feel the sense of normality. Everyone else treats me like a princess and always wants to discuss politics, royal duties etc.

“He’d do anything for you, all you have to do is say the word.”

“I know,” I nod, “I didn’t think the first public outing would turn out like this. I thought it would be easy to have a fake boyfriend and to let this ride out until I can figure things out. This will be my Dad’s last year as King, what am I meant to do?”

Matthew clears his throat and grows quiet for a moment, his eyes focusing on the wet road as he again begins to drive. “Would you like my honest response?”

“Have you ever known me to want you to sugarcoat?”

“Anastasia, he wants to marry you, you know that, right?”

I roll my eyes and scoff, “Yeah, okay.” I know Harry has mentioned it before, but that is only because we learned of the news that they want me to be married before taking over the throne.

“I am serious, he genuinely wants to marry you.”

“Well, he has yet to get on one knee with a ring,” I respond, “I wish things were easier.”

“Well, things could be easier if you would let Harry handle it. He knows what he is doing, Annastasia, he can handle what he is getting into.” Matthew responds and before I can respond, the phone rings and he answers it, leaving me in the backseat while he drives and continues his phone call.

♔

The moment I enter the palace, my world is turned upside down and my Father pounces on me like a lion on its weak prey. I can only thank Henry for this. That asshole.

My father is a great man, for the most part, but when he is angry, he is furious. He can’t always control his temper and that is something the public does not know. The public only see the lower side of his temper, they see the relatively calm and collected King. Me, on the other hand, I get to witness the King at his full capacity of anger and it is far from fun. My father can be relentless, he is like a dog with a bone, which is why he is so good at making foreign deals and running a monarchy, he does not take no for an answer, nor does he take shit from people. Of course, he handles himself in a royal matter but with a hint of dominance.

My father wastes no time with laying into me, “How many stunts do you anticipate to pull off?” My father questions, his eyes narrowed to crinkled slits, his crimson with fury as he stares me down.

My lips screw into irritation and I take a moment to come to terms with the fact that the King is yelling at me in front of the staff just as I have managed to walk into the palace. “What?”

“First your stunt at the garden party and now this? Anastasia, I expected more from you.”

“Excuse me? My stunt at the garden party?” I challenge with a raised brow.

Surely my father cannot be serious right now.

“You had to be rushed away from fainting at the announcement, I had to do damage control. Then today Henry pulls this stunt all because of you? Why were you so rude to him? He bought you a horse and you thank him by being rude? I raised you better.”

My brows bump together in a scowl, my body stiffening at the words my father speaks.

Me? Rude? I think he has me mistaken for Henry.

I would like to know how this has become my fault. I never wanted Henry as my boyfriend, to begin with, and I never wanted to parade him in public.

“Do you think I faked fainting, Father? Have you scooped that low? Is the monarch rules so important to you that you are willing to accuse me of such a thing?

“You’re the one who has forced me to this extent. You wouldn’t pick a partner.”

“Well, you picked an utter asshole to be a partner. Excuse me, I am going to bed before this turns into more of an argument.” I step around my father and begin to make my way to the staircase.

“We will finish this in the morning,” My Father sneers, “What are you all staring at? Get to work,” He grumbles towards the staff that has gathered near and around us.

I ignore everything and I make my way up the stairs and to my wing where I shut the door and ignore all the commotion of what is going on.

♔

I hear the sound of the secret door rattling while I am half asleep, and for a split second, I panic, but quickly come to the realisation it is likely Harry.

I hold my breath as the door opens and he steps into my room. He is still in his damp clothes, his hair is a mess and I can see he is exhausted. I sit upon my elbows and take a better look at him. His pant legs have grass stains and his button-up is ripped on one of the sleeves.

Harry shakes his head instantly, “Don’t ask,” Harry mutters, stepping closer and leaning down to kiss my cheek. “Jus’ came to check on you. Heard your Father was quite angry.”

“You already heard about that?” I softly ask.

Harry nods, “The Palace talks quickly, it was the first thing I heard about when I got in the car.”

“Well, I am glad to have amused you and the palace staff.”

Harry sighs, “I didn’t mean it like that. I have some work to do, I will see you in the morning.”

“You’re not staying?” I question.

Harry shakes his head, “I have more work to do, I am soaked and need to change. Goodnight,” he leans down and kisses my forehead.

Harry walks towards the secret door and I stop him for a moment, “Harry, can I ask something personal?”

Harry hums his response and turns to look at me, awaiting my question. “Why were you so confident in betting so much money on a horse?”

Harry grins for a moment and he lifts his shoulders into a meagre shrug, “Sometimes it is good to go against the odds, my darling.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It is my horse. The odds were mostly against her, but I had faith in her and the jokey, sometimes all it takes is a little faith. I knew what my horse was capable of, others didn’t.” Harry informs me, “Just like I know what we are capable of, others aren’t. I need to go, I love you.” Harry leaves before I can muster up the right words to say.

The odds are against us but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s willing to take a chance on us, so why can’t I swallow everything and take a chance, too?

#harry styles imagines #imagine harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles preferences #1d imagine #imagine 1d #imagine one direction #harry styles fanfics #fanfic one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fan fiction #one direction blurbs #harry styles blurb

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ssa25 · 5 years ago

Text

Day 5: Red string of Fate (Sasuhina Month 2019) - Part 2

@sasuhinamonth

Continuation from Part 1-

Eight months later

Ino and Sai request the pleasure of your company at their wedding on the…….

Hinata fidgeted in her seat, as the maid of honour, was glowering her way. She recognised the pink haired woman from three years ago. She remembered her name, an appropriate one considering the colour of her tresses, Sakura.

"Why the fuck is that woman giving us the stink eye?", Tenten noticed it too. At that moment, Hinata regretted agreeing to accompany Tenten as her plus one, when Neji my cousin and her recent boyfriend couldn't cancel a last minute work related travel.

This wedding reception was one of the crazier ones she has attended. Booze was flowing, the music was loud, and most guests were already drunk and on the dance floor.

Tenten and her had entered the premises only a few minutes back, and Hinata was already feeling awkward.

Sai was a famous tattoo artist and Tenten's family business supplied special handcrafted tools to him.

But now seeing some of the familiar faces of Sakura, Chouji, Shikamaru and Temari (who gave her the cold shoulder), and the bride Ino, Hinata knew that it won't be long before she crossed paths with Sasuke. The very idea made her nervous. Their last encounter had ended on a strange note.

Her inner musings came to a halt when she saw Sakura sit next to her at the table. Tenten was away chatting up with a potential client.

"Who invited you here?", was her first question.

Hinata wondered if she should even respond to a passively rude question.

"Well?", she pushed her to answer.

"I'm here with someone who was invited.", Hinata answered in a clipped tone.

"It's so convenient, isn't it? Showing up at a celebration you have no business being a part of.", her venom laced words only mildly offended her. Shino, her close friend always says- people who take digs at others are unhappy and bitter within, so feel sorry for them instead of yourself.

Grabbing her purse, she decided to go to the bar.

"A Daiquiri, please.", she requested the bartender.

"Martini."

She instantly recognized his voice beside her. She should have been more surprised, but she was already expecting to see him. She kept her eyes on the stained glass bartop, but if she were to be honest, she really wanted to turn towards him.

"I hoped to see you here.", Sasuke spoke to her.

Finally, she looked up at him and took in the minute changes. He grew his hair out a little, it made him look even more appealing if that was even possible.

"Aren't you a little late to the wedding?", she commented, as she had to drag her eyes away from his direction.

"I am. Apologetically so. Work commitments are to blame.", he rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "I heard about you and Gaara from Shikamaru few months back."

"You seem to know a lot about me."

Their drinks were served promptly, and they both took to it quietly.

"Not as much as I would like.", he replied looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

Hinata could feel herself turning pink from the alcohol and Sasuke's unveiled interest. As stoic as he looks, he has always openly verbalised his interest in her, making her heart thrum. It was an odd sort of effect. One that she couldn't say she felt with Gaara.

"Kyoto is beautiful. I have only been here once when I was a kid.", he continued.

She nodded her head, then turned to see him. "Do you still live in Tokyo?"

"I do.", he started rotating his glass, an air of anxiousness around him as he grew silent for a few seconds. "With my girlfriend."

Her eyes widened at the revelation. She felt her heart drop steeply after a momentary soar.

He looked into her eyes with a pained apologetic expression. "I want to be honest with you."

Quickly, she looked away fearing a display of her vulnerability. "That's…. That's good."

"…. I'm not sure if I should say this, but I wish I wasn't in a relatio-"

"You shouldn't…. You shouldn't say it. ", she did not want to hear anymore. "It's not fair to your girlfriend."

"Nor is having thoughts about another woman. But somehow I cannot stop myself from thinking both of those things.", he gulped down the rest of his drink.

"Is it Sakura?", the questioned slipped past her lips before she could even judge if it was appropriate.

"No. Uzumaki Karin. She's Naruto's cousin."

She wondered if the said woman was at the party with him.

"I...I should get going.", she said as she got down her seat. "Goodbye."

"Can I atleast have your number? Believe me, I have the resources to get it myself, but I didn't think you would appreciate it."

He was right. She wouldn't. But she still had no good reason to share her number with him.

"Why do you need it?"

He frowned at her, upset at having to respond to a question he knew she wouldn't like the honest answer of.

"To keep in touch.", he half lied.

And she could see right through it. She would hate to be the reason for someone else's despair.

"Maybe next time."

---

Six months later.

We are engaged!! Karui and Chouji invite you to share their joy and celebrate the special occasion with them on….

"We've got to stop meeting like this… "

Hinata turned around to find Sasuke behind her, in a long black coat over a blue shirt and black trousers. He seemed unaffected by the freezing weather, as his eyes grazed over her. She was bundled up with every winter accessory she could fit into, but still felt like she was freezing her ass off. Now, seeing him look devastatingly handsome in the cold nights, and staring at her with those deep dark eyes, she felt a warm tingle run up her spine.

"You think so?", her voice sounded more steady and confident than she actually was.

"Am I finally allowed to have your number?", he asked her taking a step closer to her.

She had heard about his break up with Naruto's cousin, from their common friends. And she felt ashamed to realise that a burst of happiness had bloomed in her heart to be aware of the news. She wanted to keep her hopes low, but she did want to see him again. And here he was, right in front of her, wanting to know more about her.

"Don't you want to go inside and congratulate the newly engaged couple first?", she reminded him timidly.

"I have my priorities straight.", he replied and stayed put. Looking behind her, he asked her with an arched eyebrow. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"I was.", she smiled and stepped up to him. "Not anymore."

They both keep their eyes affixed on each other for a few seconds, before Sasuke instinctively wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her thick luscious hair, breathing in the scent he had been wanting to get another whiff of, for almost two years.

He sighed in satisfaction when he felt her arms hug him back. He realised that she was opening up to him too, so he took his chances.

"I like you.", he said blatantly.

She laughed shyly into his chest, before replying. "I do too. But I can't for long, if I freeze in this weather."

Chuckling, he rubbed his hands on her back, and turned her towards the door of the champagne bar. Once in the confines of the warm ambience, they both stuck together savouring each other's presence.

Most of their friends kept looking their way to scrutinize the budding relationship, but it did not affect the bubble they were in.

Chatting and drinking, they made up for lost time. When it was all done, they had shared their phone numbers, addresses, some anecdotes and a few promises.

---

Three months later.

We still Do and Always will. Come and join us as Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto renew their wedding vows on the eve of their 35th wedding anniversary on the….

Hinata read the thick gold embossed invitation card for Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha. She found it in her letterbox, returning back home from work.

Turning around the invite, she found a pale blue sticky note on it.

I know you told me that you might not be able to make it. But I just had to send it to you. It's only been a few weeks since we last saw each other, but I can't wait to see you again, under any pretext. If you can't make it to the vow renewal, I will drive to Kyoto the weekend after.

-Sasuke

Hinata bit her lower lip as she tried to contain her smile. Sasuke and her had agreed to try a long distance relationship, after they both realised that their work commitments could not be altered on a short notice. But they were both willing to try. Sasuke was usually the one to travel to Kyoto during weekends, Hinata had been to Tokyo only twice.

But what Hinata knew, and Sasuke didn't, was the job interview she had, at a reputed hospital in Tokyo the week after. It felt like they were both getting very serious very quickly. If he had invited her to a family event, it would mean that he had planned to introduce her to his family. It made her nervous to just think about it, but in a good way.

So, when she finally turned up at the party, in a stunning black backless dress, with news about her new job offer, Sasuke was completely blown over. That night, for the first time she gave herself to him, body and soul.

'People don't meet accidentally, they cross paths for a reason.'

xxx

Note:Apologies for the major delay.

#sasuhina #sasuhinamonth2019 #shmonth2019

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mintskeye · 6 years ago

Text

Humble Hands

Vanderwood x MC. Comfort.

V finally is at peace, for the time being at least. He’s worn himself out enough to fall asleep, relieving MC’s worry from her shoulders for just a precious moment. She strokes his head, twirling his sky-blue hair between her fingertips as she lingers by his side. What a situation they’ve managed to get themselves into.

MC stands at last, the dark rings under her eyes prominent. “I think I’ll rest in the bedroom if that’s okay,” she softly speaks to the two other men. “Please let me know if V wakes up, or if there is anything I can do to help.”

“We will, MC. Get some rest,” Seven monotonously mutters in response, his eyes also showing signs of weariness. The calluses on his fingertips begin to set in after hours of unbroken typing, and his craned neck and slouched back ache. Nonetheless, he perseveres.

Agent Vanderwood silently observes the scene from a distant wall with folded arms. His eyes follow the young lady until she leaves the room, narrowed and curious. It’s been some time since meeting a normal person outside his line of work, and her normality engrosses him, more so with the question as to how someone so normal got involved in something so abnormal.

Without a word spoken to his partner, Vanderwood leaves the room. The floorboards groan under his heavy footing. He hadn’t expected to be so unsettled by this, considering he’s seen and been through circumstances of greater disturbance. The air is stifling with tension and is suffocating enough as is. He just wants to get out of this cottage. What the hell is this RFA club all about, he continues to bounce the question back and forth in his head.

On his way to the bedroom, his eyes spy a first-aid kit hanging from a wall. He smoothly unhinges it with one gloved hand while his other rests on the doorknob. He feels the leather sticking to his palm as his hands suddenly become clammy. He doesn’t remember the last time he spoke to a girl. How does it go again? What does he need to make sure he doesn’t say to offend her? Does he compliment her appearance or is that inappropriate? He swallows his insecurity as quick as it had come and lets himself in.

He sees her there, sitting on the edge of the bed with here back turned to him, cradling her wrist in her hand.

I knew it.

“I think you should have told someone if you’re hurt,” he speaks matter-of-factly.

MC jumps at the unexpected voice, whipping her head around while quickly moving her hands to appear as if nothing was wrong. “O-Oh, Mr. Vanderwood! I didn’t see you there…” she nervously laughs.

“Ah, ‘Vanderwood’ is fine. I don’t need people to be polite with me.” He welcomes himself inside. His feet shuffle along the floorboards as he makes his way to her, overly cautious of making her uncomfortable. He sets the kit atop the bed and pulls up the nearby desk chair. “What happened?”

“What? Nothing, this is nothing. V has it worse-”

“He’s doing fine. That might get worse if you don’t get it treated,” he gestures to her hand with his chin.

MC sighs, looking away with her cheeks tingeing pink with. “A Believer grabbed my wrist to try and stop me while we were running away.”

Vanderwood bluntly replies, “Show me,” but she can hear the care in his voice.

Seeing his eyes not falter once as they met hers, she timidly extends her arm from her side. Vanderwood effortlessly pulls off one gloves to reveal his bare hand and his fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, holding it gently with both hands. Though she knows it is rude to stare, her eyes can’t help but fall upon the numerous silver lines and faded marks tattooed on his skin. Some are barely noticeable, having healed over time, but others are much deeper and distorted with lasting effects, if not permanent. She’s surprised to see him appear so nonchalant about exposing something this unnatural to a stranger like her.

“So, you’re a secret agent, huh?” MC awkwardly starts a new topic of conversation. “I’m guessing it’s nothing like what I’ve seen in movies.”

To her surprise, the agent cracks a smile. “Nothing like it. Some stuff is almost accurate, but you can tell the movie was made by someone who knows nothing about people like me and Seven-Zero-Seven.”

“But it’s still dangerous, right?” she says as her gaze subtly shifts down to his hand again.

“Even more than the movies-- one wrong move and you’re dead. If only starting a new life was as easy as they make it look. If it were like that, I’d be out of that hellhole in no time.” He stops himself from continuing, realising the way he’d just spoken in front of her. He looks away and clears his throat. “Uh, sorry, I shouldn’t really be talking about this kind of stuff with you.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“Yes…?” He doesn’t sound confident in his answer at all.

She stifles a laugh behind a cough. “I might not know much about what kind of life you have, but I can still lend an ear… i-if i’m allowed to, of course. I don’t know if you’re allowed to talk to me because of confidentiality or--”

“No, no, that’s… that’d be nice, actually. It’s nice to talk to someone knowing they’re not a trained killer, you know?”

The strangers don’t know what to make of the other’s response. For the first time since Vanderwood entered the room, they hold eye contact, seemingly lost in the pools of their irises. The distant cricket songs of the night float through the slightly ajar window in a tranquil breeze, filling the otherwise awkward air with comfort. He feels relaxed, peaceful even, feeling that he doesn’t have to keep up his walls so tall.

It isn’t until he catches his hand sliding off the bandage that they were snapped from their momentary trances. “Can you move your fingers?” he breaks the silence and quickly resumes his tending to her.

“Oh, yes, I think so,” she stutters.

He carefully rotates her wrist in different directions at her words, ensuring he won’t go any further at a sign of discomfort. “Well, I don’t think it’s broken. But it’s definitely sprained.” Placing her hand in his lap, he opens the first aid kit and pulls out a bandage and medical tape, wrapping it around her fragile wrist.

“Thank you,” she mutters bashfully.

His delicate handwork stiffens and a sudden coughing fit overcomes him. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that. “It’s nothing... I just, I think it would annoy me, knowing someone was hurt, and I wasn’t doing anything, is all...”

“You’ve been doing plenty. It means a lot that you’re looking after V, as well.”

“‘As well’? I really haven’t done much. You’re the one doing most of the work here, except for Seven-Zero-Seven, of course.”

“Well, you’re looking after me right now, aren’t you?”

Though the room is dark, the lamp exposes Vanderwood’s face just enough for MC to see his cheeks dusted a light red. “Y-You’re kind of putting me on the spot here. I don’t really know what to say to that kind of stuff...”

She giggles. “I know Seven is really grateful of you, too.”

“That kid,” he sighs irritatedly. “He treats me like I’m his maid all the time, ordering me around to do all his housework and jobs from the boss. He wouldn’t be in the agency if it weren’t for me covering his ass all the time.”

“It sounds like you’ve helped a lot of people before.” MC gazes at his eyes as they remain fixed on wrapping her hand, seeing his oak-brown orbs glisten in the lamp light. They occasionally sneak a risky glance back to his stricken hand. She has to swallow the urge to ask about it, believing it’s a story of an answer too personal for someone of their recent acquaintance.

“Ah, well, I suppose that’s true. One way or another.”

Once he finishes, he hooks on the clip to keep the bandage in place, his fingers holding her hand for longer than he’d intended. He quickly takes his hand away and leaves almost immediately.

“Try not to move it around a lot. You might worsen it if you do. And... you can tell me if it still hurts. I can give it more treatment if you need it.”

“I will. Thank you, Vanderwood,” she smiles warmly, seeing him in a new light than what her first impression had created.

“Well… goodnight, then.” He gives her a courteous nod and closes the door behind him.

Vanderwood’s face is a red hot mess. He leans against the wall, grounding himself back on earth while his head is still in the clouds. He thinks about how soft her skin was, how fragile her hands looked when he held them in his own, the feeling of another person’s touch on bare skin. He instantly longs for the sensation again, feeling as though he were a child experiencing a new sensation for the first time.

Once again, burying his thoughts to maintain professionalism, he straightens his back, returns the kit to its original place and shuffles back into the living room. He stands over the photographer, now beginning to toss and turn in his sleep. His stare is cold, as if to silently berate the man.

“She seems nice,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I didn’t think you knew how to talk to girls, madam,” Seven teases, but the enjoyment in his tone is missed. “And she’s taken, so get in line.”

“Hey, I know! I’m not so improper of a guy that’d I’d steal her away. And I don’t like like her that way, anyway.”

It was only at that point that the agent stops his typing and finally looks up from his screen. His gaze pierces through the frame of his glasses and struck Vanderwood’s unsteady heart.

“Then where’s your glove?”

#haven't written for a while #vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction

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early-sxnsets · 6 years ago

Text

Reunion

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343617/chapters/42045335

Chapter 11/11 of Of Wealth and Leisure

Word Count: 3334

Summary: After months of separation, Mr. Pitch and Sir Snow are brought back together.

Raindrops trickle down the glass panes as soft pinks and hues of a muted yellow filter out into the expansive library of my own estate. It’s stuffy in here--almost untouched. I feel as though, until recently, it’s only been used for battle strategies rather than the simplistic pleasures offered through books and stories. Perhaps, none of us could truly savor them within the shared haze of Lord David’s intoxicating lust for poster.

I doubt I’ll ever be able to enjoy these books now, for now I feel no motivation other than to sit and stare onwards, seeking something and never quite grasping it. My thoughts lie there, withering in the air and haunting my mind. I wish it wasn’t quite morose, but it is. It truly is.

Everything around me exists as a ghost rather than true tangible objects. The now-dulled sheen of my sword, the blackness of my inkpot. Even these damned stories are beyond deceased, wasting away to dust whilst they sit settled upon countless, untouched bookshelves.

I’m bitter. I’m a bitter man, glaring towards the stained glass warpings of the outside world and taking no notice to footsteps growing near. They stop at the door, followed by a disgruntled sigh.

“Simon,” Penelope laments, going to sprawl out on the couch across from my armchair. She throws her feet up onto the seats in attempt to establish a disregard for the furniture. “You’re absolutely ridiculous--you cannot mourn forever. It’s behind you, is it not?”

I don’t dare a glance at her. “I don’t see what you mean by mourn,” I mumble, knuckles pressed to my cheek. “I’m perfectly normal, am I not?”

She laughs right towards me, sitting upward as her hair tumbles back. It’s always in a poorly done up-do, despite the protests of her mother and her careful maid who both try endlessly to fix it. “Normal? Simon Snow, you’re anything but!”

“What’s abnormal about me, Penelope?”

“You stare,” she begins. “You stare and stare and don’t speak even more than usual. And, on top of that, you barely drift outside into the common areas besides this and your own chambers. Worst of all, you’ve barely eaten. You can’t possibly lie so blatantly to my face, can you?”

I turn my face slowly, feeling my vision twirl a bit. There’s the slight possibility that I’m mildly tipsy, given I’ve been drinking whatever and whenever I can since I’d arrived back months ago to this wretched residence.

It was such a sorrowful day, and such a bitter ending.

I wish I could’ve swayed it any other way. I wish I could turn back what had happened. I wish I could’ve kissed him one last time.

I’d gone through shock after the attack, and subsequently gotten myself ill through my own mind. I’d been shaken so violently that nobody dared touch me, staring on as my heart raced out of my chest and I’d gasped for air. In that moment, I’d prayed for any sense that what I was living was not real.

Regardless, it proved to be a reality.

As the police came, the Baron remarkably stepped up to cover for my actions. He’d settled a claim with them, stating that it was one of his stronger guards, specifically the one who’d wielded a sword, who slashed all the men and then simply bled out on the fields from his injuries. All other fatalities were everyday casualties of the saddening event. I was sold as an innocent man to the court, having been given a good clean up before anyone saw me. They all bought it, not even questioning my case to any degree.

It was a blur. I’d barely had a chance to see Baz after the events, and especially not alone. He’d once tried to slip his hand into mine, which I’d desperately grabbed hold of before anyone could see us. The very moment a person would turn head in our direction, we’d dropped hands and froze, finding ourselves at least a foot in careful distance.

By the time the quick trial had ended, I’d been whisked away back towards my old residence, being told I was the only name left to watch the estate.

Before I knew it, four months past since the wretched Christmas day and no word from the Grimm-Pitches. Not even a whisper from Basilton has entered these halls, and I haven’t dared spoken a word of the nature of our relation, not even to Penelope. In all honesty, I’ve carried on the ruse of the courts--it wasn’t me, it was the servant who’d carried out the actions. According to the ruling, I’d barely touched a drop of blood.

It was as if I hadn’t seen Ebb fall. As if the events of the past months of my stay were nothing more than a strategic business visit to bridge our lives under the misguided plans of Lord David.

As if Baz and I hadn’t ever crossed into any territory, platonic or further.

I’m unsure of where he and I stand now, especially after our evening’s worth affair. Despite the limited time, it felt so real--it’d felt like an eternity. In such short time, I could picture him and I together on his grounds, spending a lifetime hand and hand. He could bite remarks off at me as he had before, but we’d solve it with soft kisses and small smiles to one another.

I love him. I truly do. I wish I didn’t--I wish I don’t, but I so desperately do.

Sadly, now I fear that I’ll never be allowed to express so.

“The Grimm-Pitch manor was different,” I say dismissively, hips shifting as I sit upright. “It’s simply upsetting that it ended in such brutality. I’m unsure of how to think of Lord David given his actions, and that complicates my thoughts over the inheritance. That is all.”

She stares across at me, crossing her legs. Her skirt sways, eyebrows narrowing in a pitiful squint as she chews on her lip. “Those aren’t words the Simon I know would speak...”

“I’m still that Simon.”

“You aren’t,” she shakes her head, “you’re so concerning, my dear friend. You know you can share anything with me. Anything.”

I slowly lower my jaw before snapping it back shut. “It’s useless problems of my own--you know of my overactive mind.”

“And I know of how few words it speaks,” she jokes back, starting to smile. “Come now, Simon, I’m not daft. Tell me what bothers you.”

My head slowly turns back towards the window, watching the late spring rain hit against the cherry glass. It streaks down slowly, leaving ripples over the light. “Allow me to mourn, Penelope.”

I catch her lean over her seat out of the corner of my vision, her head landing into her hands as she peers at me. For the moment being, the only sound around the room is the rain tapping against the house. Eventually, she grows bored and sighs whilst standing. Approaching me, dropping her hand onto my shoulder as the delicate purple ring glints in the sconce firelight. I allow her to stay, eyes falling shut.

We stay frozen in time, remaining silent until the sound of hooves and a carriage breaks our trance. Automatically, I frown, hips shifting in discomfort. “I’d thought I’d sent away the last of the ongoing rotation of pity-bringers,” I bitterly remark, adjusting my cuffed sleeves.

“You had--”

I stand, shrugging her hand off as I button my jacket closed. “I wish not for any more visitors at this time,” I continue, calling out into the house as I push past the library doors and make my way down to the front room. “Had I not made it clear? I wish for solitude in these troubling times.”

“Simon!” Penelope calls, running after me. “Nobody called to state a visit--”

We both stop short, the servants pulling the doors open as a tall gentleman steps inside, accompanied by various traveling cases. Enough for a long stay, at that.

As his head lifts, my heart falls from my chest and beats upon the well-swept floors. “Mr. Pitch…” I say breathlessly, eyes going wide as his head rises. A smile grows upon his lip while he removes off his hat and holds it to his chest.

“My apologies for the lack of notice,” he says, fingers running along the edge of his cap, “for my residence has been in a complete state of chaos since the end of December. Can’t imagine why…”

I gawk at him, body stiff and unmoving as he speaks. He gives me such weak, unsure glances as he continues.

“Suppose it’s in poor assumption that my company is welcome, but as of recent, they’ve been redoing the grounds and cleansing the house. I’ve had to stay there up until recently to see everything fit, but my family had been dispersed for these next twelve months. Seeing as we’d offered you housing, I was quite hoping that you’d have at least a spare room for me…”

Penelope stands between us, head turning back and forth and cutting to speak before me. “My apologies, Mr. Pitch, but we’ve chosen to keep our privacy for the next--”

“I appreciate the commitment to our current status of housing, Miss Bunce,” I say quickly, halting her with a raised hand as I refuse to remove my gaze from Baz’s. “But Mr. Pitch is more than welcome at this time. His family had been most welcoming upon my stay, and I can only offer the same onto him.”

His lip quirks up at me in only a way that I can recognize now as appreciation. It makes my mind go all mad.

Despite my clarity, Penelope blinks at me in confusion as she grabs my sleeve and tugs it. “Sir Snow, I believe we should discuss this…”

“Not necessary,” I say, gesturing to the servants before addressing them directly. “See to it that Mr. Pitch is settled into our largest visitor’s chambers.”

They nod, carrying off his bags as Baz stays put, hands folded behind his back. His face seamlessly shifted back to its typical borderline-scowl, eyebrows raised towards Penny. I try to ignore her incessant comments about her wariness, but it proves to be more of a growing nuisance. Clearly, she wishes to speak at once.

I clear my throat, nodding toward Baz as I slowly begin to step aside with her. “Mr. Pitch, if you wish to lounge, I shall meet you in the library. Allow a servant to take you there--I shall only be a minute.”

He nods back as I’m pulled off, practically thrown into the dining room while the doors shut behind us. “Are you absolutely mad?!” Penelope remarks, hands held up in front of her in a wild gesture. “He-he-he-he… Lord, his family! Good God, Simon, what are you thinking? The Pitches are not our friends, nor have they ever been!”

I straighten myself up, fixing my collar as I glance helplessly towards the door. I wish only to run off to the library and pull Baz into my embrace, never to let go again. It’s been far too long, and I oh-so dearly miss the way his hair falls through my fingers. “We’re allies now,” I say as calmly as possible. “He and I particularly agreed upon a truce at my time of visit. Such old time's animosity is gone, and I believe that you shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

She stares at me, eyebrows knitting as she crosses her arms. Her glasses rest upon her nose, and when she tips her head towards the ground, the slide down the bridge. “You…” she begins before she exhales, pinching her temples. “I shouldn’t be so trusting. You shouldn’t be so trusting.”

“I’m aware,” I say, reaching out for her hands and holding both tightly. “The air of rumours that follow Mr. Pitch and his family are thick and unavoidable, but alas, I must beg of you to overlook them. I know what I am doing, and my actions are more me over anyone else.”

Her hands turn over, squeezing mine back. “I’m going to regret this,” she mumbles inwardly as I break into a grin.

“If in the coming months you do regret this, then I swear to eat my own words.”

Our hands squeeze once more, her weight shifting carefully. “Fine then.” She drops me, throat clearing. “Go on and speak to him. I doubt I’ll be of much use in that conversation. But, Simon, you must promise to shout if anything is to go awry.”

“I swear,” I say, cheeks creasing further into a smile as I retreat back out of the room and up into the library. There, I find Baz standing by the same stained glass window I’d starred out upon not even an hour before. He turns once I approach, the door carefully shut behind me.

“Such a lovely design,” he begins, voice sounding soft and hesitant. “French?”

“Italian,” I say, carefully reaching my hand out towards him and sliding my palm against his. Immediately, I feel his fingers wrap around mine.

“It’s beautiful.” He speaks more towards me, eyes dropping to meet mine. “Gorgeous.”

I feel myself go weak, having no other reaction to his words other than to grab his face and pull it down to mine. He softens onto me, his lips tenderly pressing onto mine as his other hand laces through my hair. We stay pressed up to one another, my body locked into his gentle embrace for as long as I can make myself stay.

He’s the one to break first, head pulling backwards and leading me to impulsively chase his lips. He allows me, a smile sneaking upon him as I eagerly slip my tongue into his mouth.

Despite all my desperate attempts at making up for our lost days of intimacy, it isn’t nearly enough to serve a good explanation for what we are to do. So when Baz pulls back from me again, I allow him to.

“I missed you.” His words hit my cheek, face hovering close as we keep in each other’s arms. “And so painfully so.”

My fingers trace down neck, feeling the soft bump of his scar. He doesn’t recoil. “I waited for a letter--for anything. Nothing came.”

He exhales, eyes remaining shut. “I’m aware, and I apologise deeply for that. I’ve been far too busy to write, but I promise that I’d kept you in the forefront of my mind. I’d been counting the days until I could make my visit.”

I slowly feel up towards his scalp, filling a handful of hair between my fingers. “Are you truly staying for a year?” I whisper. In response, his head nods against me, lips pecking my cheek before his nose settles into my skin. I nearly melt, finding myself grinning carelessly at his sweet touches.

I allow my hands to drop further down his body, resting against his chest and delicately unbuttoning his suit jacket. Once opened, I push aside the rest of his clothing until my hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart.

“What are you doing?” he utters, sounding more curious than concerned. I simply smile, eyes falling shut.

“I needed an absolute confirmation that this is real,” I shrug, head resting forward while his lips brush my forehead. “That, and to know you’re still alive and well.”

He chuckles against me, hands sliding around my jaw and tipping my face upwards. I smile helplessly--his skin is smooth and cool, and it feels like I’m pressing my face to well treated marble.

“I’m more than well now.” His thumb drags across my cheek, smile softer than ever. It seems as though he’s a different man around me. No longer does he hold sharp edges and jagged glares, but instead it’s replaced with his loving actions. Lips pressed down onto my skin, skirting, careful hands. Everything that shows he’s here. “Are you well and alive?” He asks.

I nearly don’t answer, downcasting my eyes onto the odd veins snaking through his hands. They dip and curve delicately, making them interesting enough to allow for a good distraction. Although, after minutes, Baz’s thumb stops stroking and forces me back into reality. “It still hurts,” I let out. “The attack. Ebb. Especially Ebb. I can’t sleep a wink without seeing her face and smelling the blood.” I shutter. “I can’t focus any longer. Everything feels so bleak, so overwhelming.”

As I speak, his hand slowly trails into my hair and pets it down slowly. I relax into him, swaying unconsciously before resting into his body. Whilst my head settles upon his chest, I listen to the steady thumping of his heart and attempt to think away my issues.

He’s the closest I’ve ever come to true safety. Despite our distance, and despite the romantic aspects of the encounter we had before being so brief, I’ve never felt more comfort in anybody but him before.

In the past months, I’ve thought endlessly on the matter of our relationship prior to Christmas Eve, especially how little I had noticed. He and I grew remarkably close--to the point of only one result, and that being the one we’re at now. I’d considered writing him to apologise for all the missed time. For the longest time, I’d believed that, perhaps, the attacks had been my fault. If only I’d kissed him sooner, all the damage would have been more controlled. If only...

“It’s my fault,” he says outwardly, hand pushing back my curls as my chin tilts back up. Despite my beginning of a protest, he cuts me off with a quick, wobbling shake of his head, “No. I shouldn’t have gone off trying to find answers. It must’ve tipped him off, somehow. I was careless and selfish, and--”

“Stop,” I demand, reaching up to cover his mouth with my hand. He stares at me, eyes wide and nearly glassy as he watches my head shake. “Please, I beg of you, do not blame yourself over the actions of someone so cruel as he. It’s not your fault, nor will it ever be yours.”

His lips purse against my palm before his head bobs, eyes closing as I remove my hand. I steal a brief kiss, eyes shutting and staying closed despite us breaking apart so quickly. Our foreheads meet, heads settling there for the time being. I wish I could say that neither of us are crying, but such a lie would stand testament for our usual denial of feelings. From this point onwards, I no longer wish to hide anything; it’s all open. It’s all said. Everything I wish for; everything I think of.

“Baz?” My hands find his, holding them tightly. In response, he simply winds our fingers together and hums before letting me speak again. “You promised me something long ago, yet never fulfilled it.”

“And what is that?” There’s a clear smile in his voice, leaking slight joy in his words.

“You’d promised me a nice weekend outing,” I whisper, head tilting to the side as our noses bump together. “Theatre shows, live music. Just you and I.”

He laughs, his chest rumbling along with him. “I must’ve been laboring under the impression that you’d forgotten about that proposition.”

I grin, head shaking as my lips graze his. “Never had.” We kiss once before I finish. “May I be bold and ask of you take me out on such getaway?” His lips press to my cheek. “Show me what you know, and teach me what I don’t?” He’s moved to my jaw, nearly kissing the bottom of my ear. “Just you and I.”

“Sir Snow,” he teases, dropping my hand while elegantly draping his arm around my waist, “are you tempting me for a proper romantic outing?”

I grin hard enough to make my cheeks ache. “I’m tempting you for a lifetime of outings. This is simply the first one.”

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chikkachu · 7 years ago

Note

4 or 14 for Nalu

Happy Birthday to the beautiful @brokenangelwings83 . I was going to make this a short drabble but then I thought you love your NaLu smut and hey I already had a prompt request for it. So, I hope you like it. It’s been a while ;) Thank you to the wonderful @nalu-natic who beta-read this for me and of course the anon who sent me this prompt.

-x-Pairing: NaLu prompt: What if they hear us?Rating: 18+ / Smut / M Genre: Period/Historical Romance

Summary: Natsu and Lucy have never been so long without seeing each other. In order to cover up their frowned upon activities, they must proceed with caution. However, Lucy has run out of patience.

-x-

Acid pumped through strained muscle as Natsu lifted wrought iron. Hard graft accelerating his heart rate and a fine sheen of sweat accumulated on his skin. The heat of strenuous exercise made his clothes tight and scratchy. Natsu hated having to wear tight garments finding them restrictive. Zeref scolded him for “inappropriate apparel” regularly; walking around in clothes fit for a beggar was inappropriate for the Dragneel lineage.

Epithets and pleasantries meant about as much as the horse shit he scrapped from the stable floor on the morn. Not that Zeref knew of that pastime otherwise the noble would have him escorted at all times. As if it wasn’t enough being tied to the dukedom, another ball and chain would stifle his audacious nature.

‘Move it this way flame-brain or are you having trouble.’ Gray scoffed, smug banter intoning a challenge to the “pampered young master”. They had been best friends from the moment Ur adopted the orphan and brought him to the estate. Raising him to be a stable hand with a magic touch. No one in Fiore could tame an unruly stallion like Gray Fullbuster.

Helping fix a broken carriage beat paperwork and the arbitrary tattle of the gentry. Physical work exhilarated his senses and Natsu loved the burn. Shifting the wheel, the strained linin dress shirt restricted his movement making him lose grip. Both men jumped backwards to save their toes as the sound of metal crashing against cobblestone echoed off the walls. Distressed kicks and grunts from the prized thoroughbred met his ears as he ripped his shirt from his breeches. The incident reaffirming his distaste for the fashion. Readjusting the fitted fabric on his waist, he used his shirt to wipe off excess perspiration before tossing it over a stable door.

‘Showing off?’ Gray laughed, responding to the hushed whispers and giggles of maids passing through to collect supplies from the farm. Looking down he supposed he was exhibiting barbaric behaviour in front of the fairer sex. Zeref did say such nudity should be reserved strictly for the bedchambers. Not that he obeyed. Especially when it concerned a voluptuous blond that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘You’re always half-naked when brother isn’t around.’ Rebuking the snarky retort, Natsu readied his hands on the iron rim waiting for Gray to position himself.

‘Damn straight.’ Gray grunted, Natsu smiled at the response. That’s why Gray understood him unlike the fake accomplices forced upon him at formal gatherings. On the count of three, they heaved the chunky wheel onto the brace. Stepping back, he admired their work. It still needed wheel nuts to securely fit it to the axel.

‘I’m going to go find some oil before we screw it back on.’ Gray said, walking off and wiping his brow, ‘otherwise it’ll break again.’

‘Sure.’ Not bothering to watch Gray slink away he decided to stretch. Bending forward his back arched allowing him to feel the pull down his thighs and calves. Natsu groaned in satisfaction as the tension left his body.

‘Do you require help?’ He recognised that tinkling laughter and honey-dipped voice. Small hands smoothed over his rump travelling to grasp onto his hip. Bolting upright heat settled against his back, feeling lips pressing against his shoulder blade.

God, he missed her.

‘Lucy.’ He breathed, noticing her fingers tracking his waistband and tickling the sensitive skin.

‘It’s not often one is greeted with such a pleasant view.’ She said, amusement evident as she dragged her fingertips over his abdominals in a fleeting caress. Natsu sucking in a quick breath turned in her embrace moving to grip her arms. Memories of passionate nights and heated escapades in her father’s hunting lodge filled his mind at her playful antics. Lucy’s touch is something he could never refuse but society is cruel to those who didn’t adhere to protocol. And he wouldn’t stand for her name to be tarnished.

‘We can’t, not here.’ Her determined countenance said Lucy didn’t accept his answer as she swivelled out of his grip. A finger found his lips and he couldn’t help but track the tongue wetting her own.

‘I don’t want to hear “can’t” from the man who preaches the virtues of living in the moment.’ She said, pressing her digit further into his mouth.

‘Someone might see.’

‘No ones here now.’

‘That’s not the issue.’ He said, she laughed and dragged her hand down his jaw. Following the line of his body, making sure to drag her palm over his nipples, she continued downwards. Hooking both hands into his breeches a sharp tug caught him off balance.

Lucy Hearfilia is a dangerous woman. A woman he couldn’t refuse.

‘You’ve never been so reluctant before.’ Her voice is sin and he couldn’t help but follow. ‘I travelled too far to wait until later.’

Natsu scouted the area as he allowed the temptress to pull him into a vacant stable. This wasn’t the first time Lucy exhibited her adventurous side. Then again in high society, they take their alone time whenever the opportunity arises. A scandal of their trysts would rock the aristocracy and ruin Lucy’s reputation. He felt guilty, but patience had never been his strong suit and their first erotic venture had been against the old oak in the Heartfilia estate. Now they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Passion burned in his veins for the heiress like nothing he’d experienced before. Natsu intended for them to be wed. The thought of another man touching Lucy made his chest constrict.

‘Natsu Dragneel you sure know how to drive a girl crazy.’ He shivered feeling her breath tickle his dark nipple. Head resting on his chest her hands flitted over a pec setting a pace that caused his hair to rise in anticipation. Instinctually he moved to her dance, hips rising to meet her antics that wandered dangerously close to his crutch. Teasing fingers smoothed the fabric on his thighs, fingers drawing lines on the inside of his knee.

Dipping down he caught her lips in a quick succession of smooches feeling her hand move slowly up his inner thighs. The drag of her manicured nails felt wonderful despite the fabric barrier. Coming close to the straining erection he saw the devilish twinkle in her eye as she removed her hands from where he wanted them. Deciding instead to loop her arms and grab his butt for leverage. Lucy wiggled her hips creating a delectable friction over his bulge.

‘Damn, what’s with you today.’ Not that Natsu was complaining but it wasn’t usual behaviour. Lucy commented previously that she loved to see Natsu riled up and taking control.

‘I want you to feel my frustration.’

Oh.

They hadn’t been able to meet for a long time and Natsu had decided against their last opportunity to meet. Frolicking at the King’s ball was a bit too risky even for him. Apparently, his fiery partner had revenge in mind for the elongated abstinence. Natsu gasped as he felt her hand dipped below his waistband and gripping his dick.

‘Fuck!’ He swore, soft lips kissed along his jawline and he chocked as he felt a sharp tug. She didn’t have mercy deciding to attack his neck with open-mouthed kisses. The feeling of her hands gripping his shaft made his knees buckle. Undulating to encourage further movement he worked on undoing buttons to give her better access.

Her eyes flicked down to watch him buck into her hand, there was something incredibly sexy about his desperate movements. The sound of his laboured gasps made her nipples strain, aching for the reward of Natsu hot mouth. Before that, she wanted to have fun with the handsome man at her leisure.

Spitting in her palm she reached down to caress the head of his shaft, taking over from the hand reaching further down to cup his sack. Rolling her head to the side Natsu cupped her cheek and capture her lips in a sloppy kiss, his skill hampered by the distracting thumb brushing under the head of his dick. He could feel her gentle rotate her palm rolling his balls in a way that nearly made him cum. The sensation of both hands on him was overwhelming. The absence of her touch for more weeks than either of them cared to be separated didn’t help his control.

‘Let go.’ Lucy breathed on his lips, dipping her tongue into his mouth. Tapping her fingertips along his base in a teasing pattern, Natsu braced his back against the walk for support. He felt her travel upwards to connect her thumb and index finger around the top of his shaft. Setting a slow pace, to begin with, he felt his abdominal clench on a particularly strong stoke.

‘Please. Lucy.’ Natsu’s plea barely came out a whisper, his hands moving from her waist to cup a weighty breast. He wasn’t above playing dirty using his thumb to roll the covered nipple. Lucy tremored, her hold on his cock faltering as she craned her neck to engage a languid role of tongues. Need pulsing in his member he covered her hand with his own. Encouraging her to use more fingers Natsu guided her on pleasuring him. Lucy got the message increasing her pace and the occasional rotation of her wrist made his thighs seize up in an effort to resist climax.

‘Natsu?’ Gray’s call cut through the hazy pleasure they were surrounded in. Lucy didn’t stop, in fact, her eyes glinted mischievously as she proceeded to perform as a quick succession of tugs over his head. Pleasure exploding through his veins made his toes a heavy grunt escaping his throat. Natsu tried to stifle the noise hearing Gray moving around outside searching for him. It wouldn’t be the first time Gray had found them in an inappropriate situation. He wouldn’t hear the last of it if it happened again.

‘I don’t want to see your bare ass ever again.’ Was the quip Gray focused on him the next day. Lucy couldn’t look their friend in the eyes for a month. However, by then Lucy was grinding against his thigh Natsu suspected she had a thing for high-risk coupling. The feeling of pressure at the top of his sack snapped his thoughts to the woman in front of him. She had circled the top massage the skin gently as his balls drew together. His abdomen rippled as he thrust upwards in a haphazard pattern. Head lulling, he allowed himself to breathe in her bergamot and orange scent.

‘Your hands feel so fucking good on my cock.’ Murmuring praise in her ear Natsu found himself fall from the precipice. Capturing her lips once again in a bid to silence his moans fire shot up his shaft as the pressure in his stomach released. Pulling Lucy’s body flush against him, Natsu clung to her in his vulnerable moment. Savouring the comfort of her hand that had moved to caress his back. Finding her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile. Intimacy enabled him to see her with shocking clarity. His beautiful Lucy who couldn’t keep her hands of him, a woman sporting a kind and gentle soul. Natsu knew he was a lucky man.

‘So,’ Lucy said, smiling up at him as she licked his seed off her knuckle. ‘What’s next?’

And she called him insatiable.

#nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tale #ftfanfics #nalu fanfiction #period romance #au #smut #nalu smut #chika's fanfiction #chikacreations #one shot #anon ask #request #prompt #fantasy cafe prompt

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magicalsalamander · 7 years ago

Text

The Rabbit on the Moon Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warning: Mature; depictions of abuse, Illegal activities, smoking/drinking

Words: 5.4 K

Summary: The moon was your sun. You’ve grown up working under the moonlight as long as you could remember. You served a man, who controlled the monsters that roamed the city at day and night, or rather the devil himself.

When the others around you slowly start disappearing, you start wondering if it’ll soon be your turn. A hand reaches out to you, the hand of a gentle rabbit disguised as a wolf, offering a way out. Will you be able to escape the clutches of the devil in time?

A/N: This series is a part of Kitten’s Little Flame universe.

I (M). II. III. IV. V. Masterlist

Puckering his lips, he took his last long drag from the cigar smashing the molten tip in an ash tray. In a sigh, he let out a cinereal cloud in delight. He chuckled out tides of smoke rippling into the cloud. He stood up unbuckling his belt buckle, letting the loops hang loose at his waist under his hanging gut. Outstretching his hand, he shook Mr. Shin and his associates hand, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Shin.” He turned to me holding up his pants with one hand, “Kitty, escort these men back out. Excuse me gentlemen, I have two bunnies waiting for me.” Yates left me behind with his business partners walking out with a pep in his step. I slipped one hand at a time behind the tray wiping my sweaty palms on the skirt of my uniform. My focus wasn’t on his words so much, but about what should I do next. Should I try to get the paper back? Should I beg for forgiveness now? Maybe play it off like it never happened?

The trembling didn’t stop, and I wasn’t able to prevent my hands from slipping on the tray. I bowed to them as I held the door open for them, “Mr. Shin, this way, please.” I refused to meet their eyes as I let the three men pass. I caught their scent again, it was stronger this time around. Mr. Shin lagged readjusted his clothing and crouching down to retightening his shoe laces. He snuck the paper out from under his heel into the side of his shoe. He stood up following behind his associates. The hallway was empty as usual. The tension in my muscles were so tight I shuffled like a plank of wood. My tail flicked behind me in small jolts and my ears twitched matching every step they took. I kept behind them near Mr. Shin, leading them towards the stairs. One of the men broke the tension, “Hmm… I wonder if he knows these paintings are fake?” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t, the bile was too thick in my throat. I may throw up if I have to open up my mouth.

Mr. Shin slowed his pace walking in line next to me speaking barely above a whisper, “are there cameras in the hallway?” My blood ran cold. There was no one to save me, I was alone in this hallway surrounded by canines and a buck. I stepped back distancing myself from them ready to run, “no-no, there isn’t misters.” Mr. Shin stopped his associates signaling with his hands to them, immediately they went into action. They all gazed up towards the ceiling, looked behind curtains even paintings surveying the area. I looked back and forth between them trying to find what they were looking for but saw nothing just the same old walls.

Abruptly my arms were yanked towards Mr. Shin bringing me face first in his firm chest. I dropped the tray on the floor with a muffled clatter. I clench my fist in his shirt trying to distance myself. The look in his eyes were feral, even more brooding with his loose chestnut bangs hanging over his eyes. I let out a small whine, but it was muffled when Mr. Shin’s hand covered my mouth. Was this the end? Was I going to die here? I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the impact of his hand or any fitting reprimanding, but it never came. I didn’t open my eyes, but I muttered behind his hand, “please, please don’t hurt me. I can’t—I can’t leave my baby behind.” Hot tears fell from my eyes rolling over his fingers. His eyes soften feeling the liquid releasing slightly on the tight grip. He kept his hand over my mouth but whispered, “if I let go, will you promise not to scream?” I hiccupped from air deprivation. I took a few seconds to focus, but I nodded in assurance. My life was in their hands, I was going to play by their rules.

An associate of his nearby pulled away from a painting, “Kitty, if that is your name, we are here to,” searching the hallway once, “help you.” My eyes were wide as boulders, I wasn’t going to die? These men were here to help me? The man, who just released me, brought my attention back to him, “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, but we need your cooperation. So, let me make this clear to you—.” He paused momentarily waiting for my confirmation that I was listening. I broke contact for a split second looking back and forth between his associates, but ultimately landed on the eyes of the buck. "Before the auction, I want you to let the others known that you all will be rescued. Can you do that for me? Can you trust us?” Rescue. He was going to rescue us. This man was putting in as much trust to me as I was him. He didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t him, but it was there. I wanted to—no need to grasp his hand. I nodded repeatedly, “as long as you save my baby, that’s all that matters.” He nodded briefly, the promise was set.

Footsteps from down the corridor rung out in a familiar heavy pattern. Mr. Shin pushed me up against the wall banging my head slightly upon impact. The pain wasn’t terrible, but I held a grip tighter on him from the sudden rotation. He buried his head into the crevice where my shoulder and neck meet nuzzling affectionately. My heart squeezed, holding my breath until I was forced to breath out a bit harshly. Mistress continued towards the lot of us, smiling towards the guest. She didn’t pay me any mind. I turned away from her, if these guys weren’t here to punish me, she was. Mr. Shin pulled out of my neck addressing Mistress, “I’m sorry Mistress, Kitty here was just too irresistible.” I blushed lowering my head, and my eyes landing somewhere on the floor. She scoffed under her breath, but still held a polite tone, “I’m sorry Mr. Shin, she’s not a part of the auction. I could arrange for a personal meeting though?” He held up his hand towards her, “there is no need Mistress, I have a toy at home. I should be getting back. Thank you for your hospitality.” Mistress’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she smiled back none-the-less. She looked towards me finally, “I will be escorting these men from here on, get back to work.” I bowed to her removing myself from the group, “yes, Mistress.”

As she passed by you leading them down the hall, she muttered quietly, “tramp, keep your hands off the guest.” I stayed in the bent over position until they were down the stairs clear from the area. My knees gave out and I became boneless. They wanted to help. They wanted to help. They wanted to help. I couldn’t hold back the tears, they returned full force. I sobbed letting it all out, the years of pent up frustration, anger and fear. Help, they were going to help. Luna was going to be saved. There wasn’t no time to waste, I had to let everyone know. The auction was in less than twenty-four hours away and I had to notify over a hundred staff members.

Once they were far enough from the estate Jungkook pulled on his tight tie loosening it, “that fucker thinks we hybrids are toys. I can’t wait to get my hands on him tomorrow.” The other officers were doing the same pulling off the wigs covering their ears and loosening the buckles of their pants relieving their tails. The two golden Labradors, Wang and Bam Bam, shook their head releasing their golden, floppy ears sighing in relief. Kim, the driver, tossed his wig at Wang in the backseat to pack into duffle bag for their costumes. They pressed the switch turning off the recording wire taps on their clothing. Youngjae designed these flat recording chips that look like normal buttons that could be placed over existing buttons on a shirt. Jackson spoke into his recorder before switching it off, “hear that Yates, we’re coming for you.”

Jeon sat back in his seat fading out from the noisy atmosphere in the car. The terrified look in the poor maid’s eyes haunted him. He hated it, he hated seeing the way that Yates paraded his hybrids around. She even mentioned a child? He reclined in his seat sighing when Wang broke his inner monologue, “God, did you smell the stress in the house? And the naked bunnies? What kind of sick game is he playing?” Jungkook leaned down to pull out the note from his shoe and the two in the back seat leaned in watching over his shoulder. “What’s that Jeon?” Jeon shrugged his shoulder smelling the paper for anything odd, but it just smelled of trash. He unfolded the paper and in sloppy hand writing he made out the words clear a day. He read out loud for everyone, “save us.” Anger boiled in him and the others were equally feeling the same when the aura in the car changed. It was now or never to save these hybrids. This invasion couldn’t hold off, women and children’s life were at risk.

Last night I took the leap of faith, time was precious. From years of observing, I noticed the guards never check if the door was locked after latching the door. They just assume it locks, but tonight it won’t. I crouched with my back to the wall near the door with a wooden stir spoon I stole from the kitchen. I flipped the spoon around holding the ladle in the palm of my hand waiting for go time. Earlier when all feline hybrids were settling and preparing their matts, I tapped on the wall garnering everyone’s attention. I stood up shakily shushing everyone, listening for any guards in the hallway. Once it was silent and all eyes were on me I began signing 911, each number slowly at a time.

No one spoke afterwards or even signed back at me, so I repeated it once again. Luna tugged on my night shirt changing everyone direction of vision. All fifty eyes were on Luna and I, waiting as she signed out one finger with pleading eyes. I nodded smiling whole heartedly signing back one with confidence. I shook my hand turning to everyone sticking my hand in the air, so I was sure they all saw the single digit. I heard a croak of a wail coming from the other end of the room. Before tears were breaking out, I mouthed out to the ones closet to me, who could see my mouth clearly, “tomorrow…auction,” then repeated 911 with my fingers. The ones closest to me passed the message all the way back to the front of the cell. Luna pulled me down hugging me strongly. I patted her head assuring her that help was on the way. Tomorrow was the last day, the last day you had to be called Kitty by the Devil.

When the coast was clear, and all the felines were in bed, I assumed position. They don’t allow the morning staff and night staff to intersect. When they close the night staff’s cell, they wait for a small window of time before they open the bunnies cell across the way. This method is to ensure no one skips out of work or does some underhanded scheming. Everything had a reason and purpose in this house. I stood opposite of the sliding metal door waiting patiently. When the shadows of the Doberman approached, I held my breath as I pressed myself closer against the wall. A guard stood in the doorway reckless scanning over the sleeping cats. The secondary Doberman tapped on the wall clearing the guard in the doorway to close the door. The solid detention door was heavy. It was only meant to be opened or closed by the Doberman’s, not the weak maids. Because of the heavy weight, it had an adjustor to prevent it from slamming shut, but glide shut. In truth, this was to prevent any guest above in the main floor from knowing of the basement.

The guard clutched the handle with two hands and dragged it parallel along the track. Right before it shut I wedged the spoon on the track near the door frame. The spoon was small enough that it would only a small crack between the door and the wall. The guard would be able to latch the lock on the outside of the door. I patiently waited, holding the spoon steady to hear the final clanking of metal clasping shut. I watched the shadows under the door retreat towards the main door. The second clanking and clasping of the door locked into place bathing the cell’s in darkness. It was a countdown ‘till the switch in shifts from here on, I had to work fast.

I slid the wooden spoon deeper into the gap. I wedged and slid the spoon then dragged it upwards until I hit the latch. My fingers were small enough to fit through, so I wiggled just above the spoon fitting in between the inch of space. I fished for the knob on the latch by worming my finger around the cool metal. Once I found it, I tapped around swiping it in the opposite of the dock. It took a few tries, but eventually it gave and moved out enough to slide the door open. I looked back in the room catching Luna sitting up at the other end with her back against the wall. Her ears were flat resting against her head silently asking for you to return. I shushed her with a finger to my lips, then signed okay. It was the only way I could give her some reassurance.

I slid the spoon out from the door replacing it with my fingers stopping it from rolling shut. I pushed forward using the ball of my feet to assist in the shove. As quietly as possible, even though it was relatively sound proof, I moved it across as quickly as my weak limbs could push. It screeched to a halt when it reached wide enough for me to slip through. I jammed the spoon on the track holding the door open. It wouldn’t hold long, but it was just enough time for me to sneak across. I crawled out stepping softly onto the cold concrete floor of the hallway inching over to the adjacent cell. I knocked rhythmically waiting for a response. Not a moment too late a knocked of the same pattern responded back to me. I couldn’t see them, but I knew well enough that this message didn’t need to be seen. I knocked nine time in a row pausing then once more, pausing again then with a final knock I sealed the message. A response didn’t come as I expected, it was silent. I tried it again just in case they may have miscounted. Time was running out, so I tried once more; my knuckles were hurting, and my palms were sweaty. What if they were still asleep?

Metal keys jingled in the distance nearing the hallway. I started crawling back to my cell, I couldn’t stay in the hall. I removed the spoon from the track pulling with all my might. I fell on my butt once the freed the stopper. I looked back to Luna, who was still watching me, checking if she was still awake. I grabbed on the door pulling it back to close, but only my body was moving. My feet were sliding against the floor. I was running out of strength tugging on the slab of a door. I couldn’t grasp the door properly because my sweaty hands would keep slip. The keys were closer now almost at the main gate, I could hear the two sets of footsteps distinctly now.

Two hands tapped my shoulder behind me making me turn to two cats. Luna and another feline around my age were moving into action. The strength in me came back tenfold this time, I gripped the edge of the door helped by the other two pushing at the back. With a few heavies it began to budge and moved along the track. Lunas feet was sliding on the floor as she used her back to push the door. The door kept rolling with the three of us working together.

The sliding of our door followed along inversely with the main door. As our cell door shut, the main cell door opened. We didn’t dare to move. We remained still holding the door in place, afraid if we let go it would slide open. The footsteps of the guards became closer and closer stopping right in front. I could hear the crunching of the sediment against the rubber soles of their shoes. The guards opened the door for the day shifters calling out, “time for work bunnies.” One guard turned around to the felines cell scrunching up his expression, “hey, didn’t you lock this?” If it was possible my heart froze. I begged for them to not test the door, I begged to any deity or higher power out there to please let them pass. The footsteps bided otherwise, the higher power must’ve ignored me. He jiggled the lock shifting it back and forth testing its resistant, “hmm, we could oil these later they’re getting rusty.” With a roll of his eyes the hybrid turned to the over curious Doberman, “just close it, who cares about them anyways?” The guard at our door shrugged sliding the latch into place locking the knob securely. They left to the main hall waiting for the bunnies to line up single file in the external corridor. The last bunny to leave the cell was the same age as Luna. She waited a few seconds stretching her neck looking over her senior’s shoulders for the Doberman’s. She walked backwards until she hit the feline cell door with a fist clenched behind her back. She knocked once on the door then ran to catch up with her peers.

Still sitting behind the door holding it, a smile broke out on my face stretching from ear to ear. I slumped sliding down the door settling on the floor. With a small, breathless laugh I looked over to Luna and the other feline, who shared the same expression, everyone knew now; it was all up to Mr. Shin.

In the locker room of the police station, the hybrid unit gathered along with the gang division all forming a tactical S.W.A.T unit lead under Captain Im. The Rottweiler barked out banging his fist against a metal locker, “Men and Hybrids alike, tonight is the night where we will uncover the biggest syndicate of trafficking. It is time we put an end to this!” In unison everyone in the locker room was howling and banging their fist against their vest like apes. “All right, all right, boys. Yates isn’t tactful, but doesn’t mean his guards aren’t, so don’t take risk. Cottontail make sure that everyone’s in position internally. Alright everyone, let’s head out!” A deafening roar of, “yes, Sir,” rung out echoing off the walls. Jungkook may not be a canine like the rest of them or even full man, but he’s got more guts than them all.

The plush, pink marabou trim around the end of my sleeve continuously got it my way. The height of my heels was enough to compensate length of the ruffled skirt of the robe and thick layers of trim around my feet. If it wasn’t my fur, it was inconvenient. Everything about this new uniform wasn’t meant to compensate for hybrid features. I adjusted and readjusted the silk ribbon around my ruffle skirt, it wouldn’t tie securely because of the jewels from the sheer embellished teddy underneath. The jewels cascade down like a waterfall strategically placing over my breast and pooling over Venus. All the maid staff was running about preparing the auction hall, but only thirty were working to run the auction. The night before I begged Luna to stay on the main floor away from any guest. I bunched up the skirt bundling it up and throwing it over my forearm stepping carefully down the cellar stairs. I caressed the wine bottle tightly in my other hand taking each step at a time. Instead of walking towards the left to our own cells, I turned right at the bottom of the stairs following the staff hallway towards one of the entrances to the arena. The hallways walls were raw cement blocks with fluorescent lights flooding the chipped white linoleum floor. Soft piano echoed in the hallways growing exponential louder as I got closer to the playpen. It was a complete contrast from the inner workings of the home just above.

The majority of guest were already seated having gone through security and given their number paddle to raise during the auction. It was an underground arena that was decorated to imitate a posh dinner theater. As I reached to push open the door, my arm got caught in my jeweled choker. I tugged a few times, but it wouldn’t release. I tucked the wine again under my arm and rubbed my fingers gently along the strands of plumed, pink faux fur attempting to dislodge the pesky feathers. I yanked after growing impatient scrunching my face along with every tug. With a grunt, my wrist finally left the collar around my neck, but along with it left one of the diamonds incrusted in the word Kitty. I set down the wine bottle searching the carpet for the fallen diamond, it was transparent and blended against the white flooring. Footsteps clacked nearing your position, so I had to sacrifice the diamond. I swiped the floor with my tail clearing the passageway and picked up the wine bottle. I can’t let the guest wait any longer, I was on table service duty.

I knocked on the door readjusting myself one last time waiting for the guard to open the door. I pressed my shoulder blades together standing tall and walked in with a practice sway to my hips. I played up my expression lulling my gaze into a dreamy stare, bringing out the seductive kitty to play. If we were to serve and walk around the floor serving guest, our Master wanted us to entice the guest to purchase their own. Bring the boudoir to the customers, a true tease. That or become product.

I walked pass a few candle lit tables catching the eyes of a few onlookers. I approached one of my assigned tables for the night interrupting the soft conversation of the masked gentlemen, “excuse me Masters, your Cabernet Sauvignon.” The black and white masked man set down his cigar turning to me. He let his gaze trail me up and down before signaling for me to pour for the table. I stood to his right and lifting the glass topper between my index and middle with the label facing the guest. I folded the hand with the toper behind my back resting it above the small of my back. With my right hand, I poured the wine without the lid of the bottle touching the rim of the glass. A hand rested on the back of my knee slowly grazing upwards to rest under the cup of my cheeks. I shuttered slightly clanging the lid of the bottle to the rim of the glass with an audible clanging of glasses. It was my fault, I wasn’t supposed to react. They were in the right to touch me. Immediately, “I’m sorry, master. Please forgive me.” His grip didn’t stutter, wine was a secondary concern of his, “what would it take to take you home tonight, Kitty?” I topped the wine bottle back, but remained stationary, “I’m sorry. We are not for sale.” He let out a hearty laugh erupting form his chest, his colleagues around the table laughed as well. One of them across the table, his obvious number one suck up, “nothing is out of reach for him.” I smiled towards the group of men finishing pouring the wine, then bowing away from the table dismissing myself. I walked towards the other tables maintaining posture. Where was Mr. Shin? Please, please, save us.

Jeon adjusted his cuff links, pulling all parts of the suit together. Wang, Bambam, Kim and Jeon were dressed to the nines as requested by invite. “Okay, at 22:00 exactly be in position, no exceptions,” Jeon warned his crew. A mile away from the estate Wang passed out the ballroom masks, “these have a GPS in them, so don’t lose them.” Bambam pulled out the anti-pheromatic spray from the duffle bag generously dousing himself in the solution. He tossed it over to Jeon sitting next to him in the back taking a big hit from the inhibitor as well. “I can’t guarantee how long it’ll last, Choi only came out with it recently, so it’s still in its testing phase. Avoid the guards as much as possible.” Kim drove down the long driveway line with dense trees concealing the grand chateau at the end. The foliage thinned out and the avenue opened to seven-tiered fountain, that was really a pool. It was well lit from all the cars waiting in in succession for their turn to enter. Kim pulled up behind other tinted windows and black cars waiting in line. They pulled all their mask on leaving only their lips exposed. When it came to their turn maids walked towards the door opening it for them while a guard took the keys of the vehicle along with information of the owner.

Jeon stood center making his way up the staircase walking through the arched, top mansion doors. On the high ceiling a grand, spiral, crystal chandelier hung down shimmering blatantly showing off the wealth of the owner of the estate. Mr. Yates stood underneath the fixture greeting guest as they came in. He was shaking the hands of a couple allowing them to be directed away by maids. When Yates turned around his face lit up resembling the chandelier, “Shin! I’m glad you made it!” He shook each members of the groups hand firmly. Turning back to Shin he smirked offering small wink, “Why don’t you allow your men to go down to the theater and enjoy some entertainment before the real show? I’ll show you behind the scenes, as a gift for our new partnership.” Shin turned towards his associates, “If you’ll excuse me. I’ll catch up with you on the main floor later.” Wang, BamBam and Kim all bowed slightly in respect towards Yates and followed a bunny deeper into the house. Yates held out a hand gesturing for Shin to follow him separately through the house. Shin followed him through the decorated home, passing by his ostentatious portrait and leading through the kitchen. He looked over to the kitchen staff, who gave him a one over with raised brows, then followed Yates through an ajar metal storage door.

He descended behind Yates physical noticing the temperature lowering the further down they climbed. Yates turned to the right with his hands clasped behind his back humming a show tune to himself. Jeon looked to the left of the intersection before following behind. There was another storage door latched shut; despite being shut he could various scents strongly belong to either cats or rabbits. Was that another holding? Without delaying too much he kept pace with the rotund man. He walked down the long hallway passing a bunny wearing luxurious robes and lingerie. His eyes followed the doe shortly wondering if the Kitty was in the same uniform. Yates pushed open the two-way exit doors opening up to a small warehouse.

It was like walking backstage of a circus. Tiger, lions and bears…oh my. The cages were free standing holding nude male and female hybrids. As they walked pass the cages some hissed backing away to a far corner of their cage, while others remained lifeless. It smelled so strong of fecal matter and urine in this small space, it was hard to breathe. Yates stopped in front of a male, black panther’s cage tapping on the top of the cage earning a hiss from the big cat. “Guys like him go for big bucks, I wouldn’t be surprised If I made a million on him at minimum tonight." Jungkook eyed the cat, resisting every muscle from breaking the lock on each cage. The main thing keeping him from going into action is he knew one wrong move they’re all dead. Patience is a virtue. The GPS in his mask should be tracking his every move. The live tracking is feeding back to the station to monitors being watched over by Tuan, Choi and Park, the German shepherds. Tuan transcribe that information to Captain Im, who’s waiting nearby on standby with the rest of the S.W.A.T, onto a tablet where he could watch.

Yates paraded him around the warehouse showing off his trophies bragging about how shelters gave them away like candy. Jeon eyes stuck on a cage where a single cat hybrid sat in the center of the cage. She was shivering and crying. She lifted her watery eyes up looking Jeon directly in the eyes. Yates came up behind him throwing his arm over his shoulder, “she’s a young one. You should pick her before she blooms Shin.” Yates dropped his arm from Shin’s shoulder walking back to the exit dragging his fingers over the cage bars humming the same show tune. Jeon couldn’t take his eyes off the kitten; his heart hurt and was shattering into a million pieces. The children…. the children. He had to break himself away when Yates called to him from the exit beckoning him to come. The hallway casted a silhouetting light over him making his pearly, white teeth gleam a chesire grin. Jeon caught up to him stepping into the hallway and as the door closed Yates cheerfully exclaimed, “Let the show begin!”

Jeon followed Yates all the way to a table front and center near the main stage. Wang, Bambam, and Kim were sitting around the table holding light conversation and sipping wine. Jeon sat next to Kim followed by Yates on his left. I noticed Master coming into the hall with a guest. The figure was masked, but I recognized his tall figure. His scent was gone today, but the way he carried himself didn’t change. Once they situated themselves, I walked over with a bottle of wine pouring my Master a cup. His raised his hand settling it on my ass groping and squeezing it harshly. I whimper from the harshness of it but try to cover it with a giggle. He loops his arm around my waist bringing me down to sit on his lap. I fall into his lap ungracefully gripping Mr. Shin’s thigh tightly to stabilize myself. I rip my hand back sitting up straight, like I touched fire, apologizing over and over again to him. He smiled at me showing off his bunny teeth. I smiled shortly, no matter how well his disguise was there was still something he couldn’t change. Before I could keep smiling Yates promiscuous hand tightened around my waist bringing his other to play with the plumes of pink around my sleeve. His chapped, thin lips brushed against my neck, but his eyes turned towards Mr. Shin and his party watching Yates, “relax, boys.” When Yates was busy talking to someone in the seat next to him and his hand was busy trailing up and down my sides, I reached out. I secretly lowered my arm enough reaching out towards the buck. I tugged twice on his sleeve then dropped my hand back to hang limply at my side. I kept my face forward, but I felt his gaze on me. I didn’t dare turn to him while I was directly in the lap of the devil. Yates turned back to Jeon finishing his conversation with someone else tapping his arm, “The shows about to begin.” Jeon looked down at his watch, then crossed his right leg over his left reclining back in his seat. He laced his hands together in his lap turning over to Yates with a genuine smile, “Let the show begin.” In the next second, everything was covered in darkness.

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