#this old man kills me on the weekly how am i supposed to work under these conditions?????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

written-prose-things · 3 years ago

Text

5 Times Eun Sang saw Young Do after he'd gotten beaten up by his dad + 1 Time she beat his dad up

The Second Time: The Pair's History Project

One thing Young Do respects is being punctual. As the heir to a well-known hotel chain, he has to meet all sorts of businessmen and associates. Being punctual and respecting schedules allows Young Do to bring some semblance to his life even if it’s in the form of a weekly schedule.

The only meeting he procrastinates about ironically happens to be the one meeting that is a permanent fixture in his schedule.

He has to report to his father’s port facility every Thursday at 5 p.m.. But he has given up on dragging his feet and throwing tantrums, now that there isn’t anyone who can hold his father’s anger off. The smarting bruises are inevitable, he only has a superficial choice between getting beaten up on the mat or receiving unexpected blows throughout the week.

So when his father’s secretary pulls up outside the school, Young Do gets in and goes along willingly.

****

Eun Sang didn’t know herself to be an unrealistic optimist. She knew that her strategy to be a wallflower would not be successful in an elite school where she was going to be one of the few charity cases. However, she hadn’t expected the universe’s attempts to turn her into the roadside freakshow of the school. Everything that could have gone wrong did and then some more. She’d had to fend off advances from a well-meaning but condescending rich twerp only to fall into another’s company all thanks to her history teacher’s amazing idea of pairing her with Young Do for the semester’s projects.

The only silver lining was that her situation made Chan Young laugh more than he had since middle school.

Now, she was exactly where she had expected herself to be. As soon as the last bell had rung, Young Do had walked out of the classroom without handing her his half of the assignment. She’d scoured all the shady spots in the school that his clique haunted, but had turned up empty-handed. As she entered the basketball court, the last place on her list, she checked her watch.

She’d wasted 15 minutes on looking for Young Do and now she was late for her evening job. She rushed out of the school, hoping to make it to the bus stop as quickly as possible. Hopefully, tomorrow she’d be able to go through Young Do’s work and fix all his mistakes before the teacher asked for the submissions. She thanked the blatant favouritism of the city council, the footpaths in this district were smooth and freshly painted, unlike the foot-trodden paths near her old house.

She turned the corner to the bus stop 3 minutes quicker than expected. The stop was empty and the board showed that the next bus was only 5 minutes away.

Behind her, she heard the peculiar and easily recognisable voice of Myung Soo.

“Hey, new girl!!”

“What?”

Myung Soo was sitting inside a pretentious black car. His torso hung out of the partially open window. He beckoned her over with the hand that was holding a folder.

Eun Sang stepped out of the bus stop’s awning and walked towards him.

“Here you go.”

He foisted the folder off on her.

Eun Sang pushed it back, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Myung Soo shrugged, “Young Do just told me to give this to you. He said you’d know what to do with it. Cool?”

Myung Soo replied to his own question, “Cool.” and started to roll up his window.

Eun Sang banged her hand on the window, “Ya! Not cool! What-?”

These people were going to make her kill herself. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Where is he?”

Myung Soo looked taken aback, “Who? Young Do?”

Eun Sang looked at him expectantly.

Myung Soo scrunched his nose, “He must be with his father right now. At the gym in Kim Tan’s district.”

Myung Soo’s expression of disgust made her uncomfortable. She’d give an arm to be able to spend quality time with her mother without having to worry about money.

Eun Sang nodded and opened the car’s door, “Okay. Drop me off there.”

Myung Soo moved back, allowing her to take a seat, “I’ll drop you somewhere else. You shouldn’t go and see him right now.”

Eun Sang glared at him, “I’ll do as I please.”

Myung Soo glared back, “No you won’t. Don’t pay him a visit at the gym.”

The thing about people who are perceived as flippant is that when they get upset, you can’t not take them seriously. Eun Sang surrenders.

“Okay. But I have to go that way anyway. I live in that district.”

Myung Soo nods, back to his usual self.

****

Eun Sang can feel Myung Soo’s eyes on her as she crosses the road. Unable to ignore him anymore, she turns around.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go looking for Young Do.”

Myung Soo smiles and rolls up his window. Eun Sang waits until his car has pulled out of the lane before crossing the road again.

The thing about being an invisible part of the huge courts rich people maintain is that Eun Sang can easily predict their habits and behaviours. So even though the district has thousands of gyms, Eun Sang can count on one hand the ones that Young Do is possibly a member of.

This is the third time Young Do has foisted off his work on her and she’s had it. She only takes an initiative to cross-check his work because it affects her grade. But being expected to do it compulsorily irritates her beyond measure.

Myung Soo can eat it. She’s going to find Young Do and throw his paper in his face.

She calls her boss and tells him a superficial sob story about not being able to come in today. He knows she’s lying, that much is clear. But he lets her off the hook for some reason. She cuts the call as quickly as possible. Looking a gift horse in the mouth isn’t something she can afford to do.

****

Eun Sang reconsiders her confidence. The sky is slowly turning black and she still hasn’t found Young Do in any of the elite gyms in the area.

It’s another moment when she feels like the universe has kicked her in the shins. She’d have been better off going to work and checking Young Do’s paper in her break.

She gives up on looking in the several other gyms in the area and begins to head home. The difference between the main roads of the district and the bylanes and back alleys is stark. She takes off her school coat and pulls on a sweatshirt. She replaces her phone and headphones for her keys, the former going back into her bag.

As she makes her way deeper into the maze of houses and shops, Eun Sang sees a figure walk out of the makeshift gym that the owner built in an old warehouse. She recognises his face easily even in the faint streetlight.

“Ya Young Do!”

He whips around quickly and makes a shushing motion. She walks up to him, ready to rip him a new one. But he beats her to it.

“What are you doing here? Have you been following me?”

“So what if I have? What are you doing here? Did you beat someone up again? Have you locked them inside?”

Eun Sang can’t help the way her voice rises as she asks questions. Getting in fights is one thing, but beating someone up and locking them up isn’t something that Young Do’s dad might be able to get him out of unless he really knows people in high places.

Young Do sighs and schools his expression before staring at her as if she’s the one at fault here, “That’s none of your business. Just- Why are you here?”

Eun Sang decides not to push it further and trusts his file back at him, “I’m not your homework machine. Do it on your own.”

Young Do nods, “Okay. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take this from you tomorrow. Just go now.” He pushes her away from him.

The door of the warehouse opens once again, with its typical creaking noise. An older man steps out.

If she saw this man walking on the street, she’d never know that he was Young Do’s father; but as Young Do instinctively cowers before him, it becomes obvious. And suddenly many things fall into place.

The man looks her up and down with a sneer.

“And who are you?”

Young Do answers for her, for which she’s thankful. She’ll happily follow his lead when it comes to answering explosive questions asked by opinionated and powerful men, “She’s a classmate.”

Young Do’s father gives him a withering look, “Do you answer for her?”

Young Do breaks away from his father’s stare, “No sir.”

For the first time, Eun Sang wishes she was still wearing her school blazer, but nonetheless, she adopts her best impression of an average girl from her school.

“I wish he’d speak for me. But I had just come to hand over the paper he forgot at school today.” Young Do looks surprised as if he had expected her to throw him under the bus.

Young Do’s father rolls his eyes, “How does it matter if he gets the file today or tomorrow, it isn’t like he cares about his studies. But anyway” he mimics a frown, “it’s good to see that there are people who care for him.”

The implication makes Eun Sang bristle and she knows from the look that Young Do throws her that she hasn’t hidden her feeling properly.

If his father notices her expression, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns towards his son, grabbing his neck in a way that resembles a wholesome action, but the emotion behind skews it, making her feel uncomfortable. In the quiet lane, she’s able to overhear Young Do’s father.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Lick your wounds and have fun with the girl. I’ll see you at the same time next week.”

With that, he stalks out of the lane. A moment later they hear the faint noise of a car pulling out. Eun Sang takes a deep breath.

Now she knows. Why Young Do hadn’t told her who he’d gotten in a fight with that day at the convenience store. Why Myung Soo didn’t want her to go looking for Young Do.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath trying to will away the guilt she’s feeling towards Young Do. It isn’t going to help either of them.

She opens her eyes and turns to look at Young Do. He beats her to it again.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Eun Sang rolls her eyes, “You’re not getting any either. I was just going to say that you can come to my place and we’ll patch you up.”

He raises his eyebrows, “How exactly is that not pity?”

Eun Sang shrugs, “I’m doing it for my own benefit. I need you to be in a good condition if we’re going to give our presentation tomorrow.”

With that, she turns around and starts walking back home, albeit at a slower pace so that he can keep up. It’s up to him to decide now.

He catches up quick enough, even though he’s breathing a little harder than she had expected. His dad really did do a number on him.

****

Eun Sang sits down in the middle of her room and opens the first aid box that her mother keeps in the corner of the kitchen.

Young Do’s still standing by the door.

“Come here and sit down. Unless you want to do it yourself.”

He doesn’t rally back with his usual smart remark, choosing instead to step into the room and sit down in front of her. Thankfully she doesn’t have to make another smart remark for him to take his shirt off.

The sight before her makes Eun Sang gasp out loud. Thankfully Young Do doesn’t take offence. She pulls out the cotton swabs and disinfectant, hoping to make quick work of what is obviously going to be a very painful experience.

She dabs the swab over a cut in Young Do’s back and he recoils violently.

“Sorry.”

He grunts in reply.

Eun Sang grabs his file and passes it to him, “Explain what you’ve written to me.”

“What?”

She wakes her hand at his back vaguely, “This is going to take some time, we should get some work done in the meantime.”

Hopefully, this distracts him from the pain a little bit.

He nods and flips the file open, “So the topic is had to cover was how languages have evolved in East Asia over the past few years and I was interested in exploring the differences in the effects of the various kinds of colonisation on the Korean language and how the different dialects emerged from this process...”

Eun Sang listens to him as she continues to work on his back.

Finally, she closes the first aid box and hands him his shirt back. She walks back into the room after putting the box back in its place.

“You sounded like you actually did some work on this project.”

Young Do huffs, “I always do.”

Eun Sang gives him a look, “Of course.” And she motions him to give her the file.

After perusing through his paper two times, she can’t help but hit him on the head with it lightly. Lightly.

“Ya!”

“No! You don’t get to yell at me. What the hell is this bullshit?”

Young Do actually looks offended, “seriously, you crazy woman, decide what you want to say. You just complimented me for it.”

“What you’ve written and what you’re saying sounds entirely different. Where’s the point about maritime trade and its effects in the paper?”

Young Do grabs the file and flips through it. He pushes it back at her just as quickly, pointing aggressively at a paragraph, “Right here.”

Eun Sang reads it thoroughly again, “No. This isn’t it. You used loads of examples when you were talking about it. Why are those written here?”

Young Do shrugs, “I was just using them to explain this to you. I don’t think the teacher needs me to explain that to him.”

Eun Sang barely manages to control herself and not hit him again.

“Just- Shut up. I’m going to help you write answers now. You really have no idea about how to write anything.”

With that, Eun Sang and Young Do begin their weekly tuitions. Young Do learns how to write better answers and Eun Sang gets a new friend.

#the heirs #choi young do #cha eun sang #young do x eun do #can you tell I've just binge-watched the show again?#the next part: i.e. the first time eun sang saw young do after he got beaten up will probably be posted next Saturday?#idk i have no sense of time or motivation #if i can't write it i'll just post the sparknotes version of it here.#thank you for taking out the time to read my unnecessary notes

15 notes · View notes

yunatheintrovert · 4 years ago

Text

shot through the heart (and you’re to blame) | Chapter 2 [Russell Adler/Female Bell!Reader Soulmate AU]

I hear the drums echoing tonight

But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, 12:30 flight-

“Change of plans?” you guessed, pulling your headset down to rest at your neck. You could still faintly hear the familiar sound of Toto’s Africa coming from your Walkman’s headset. It took something for you to set down your Walkman.

And upon seeing the expression on Lazar’s face, you knew it was one of those times.

After all, it was either that or someone had just broke the news to him that hamburgers were not on the menu in the outpost. Either one was important.

Hamburgers were not breakfast food. But at this point, you’d take whatever the hell you could get.

“Sandstorm forecasted to move in before the scheduled exfil.” Lazar explained as he leaned against the wall next to you, “Time frame’s been moved closer.”

“How soon?” you asked, already bracing yourself for whatever the hell Hudson and Adler had decided on.

"Zero six hundred hours."

“No shit?” you sighed. The one lesson you learned in Cuba was that the devil was in the details. There had been a rush to get there. Limited intel, high risk. It was a mess from the start.

You did not want another Cuba.

“And that’s not even the start of it,” Lazar said agitatedly, “We’re not just parachuting in, we’re doing a damn HALO jump.”

“Well,” you said with a sigh, “I’ll try to convince the cook to make hamburgers for the two of us while you’re gone.” Lazar had past HALO experience. Although, he never did quite like parachuting after Cuba.

“Nice joke, Bell. We’re all going.”

“...I’m cleared for this mission?” That surprised you for more than one reason. Aside from being an agent the CIA had barely spared, you were also not cleared for a goddamned HALO jump.

No formal training.

...Well, there was Vietnam, specifically those “memories”. You could easily recall the vivid memory of falling through the heavy fog over Laos during one of the MACV-SOG operations you were in on with Adler.

But that didn’t count for a goddamn thing.

This didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

That’s all you could think about as you stood from your seat quickly and secured your Walkman at your waist as you pulled your headset back to rest at your ears.

“Good luck with Doc, Bell,” Lazar said, already knowing what you had in mind.

You said a quick thanks to him before making your way through the halls of the command wing of the outpost.

After all, you sure as hell were going to need it.

I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

It hadn’t taken much time to find the man in question. After all, outpost Libreville was a modestly-sized outpost located near the borders of Angola in Gabon. The airstrip built and improved over time made it ideal for special forces operations and those of the clandestine nature.

You had found him in the once empty corner office that belonged to an officer on leave. The small space of the corner office allowed smoke to curl and cloud around the room. Despite that, you easily noticed the schematics of the satellite and reports on the predictions of the timing of the satellite's crash scattered on the desk.

“Need something, Bell?”

“Sir,” you said tensely before bracing yourself and adding, “The HALO jump...I’m not cleared for it.”

“I cleared you for it. We’re CIA, not military,” Adler said before adding, “You’re having second doubts.”

“I’ve never done a HALO jump in my life, sir,” you explained, “My...memories of Vietnam didn’t count for anything.”

“Now, that’s just bullshit.”

“What are you talking about-”

“The feedback you gave on that HALO operation over Laos. No untrained person would have been able to replicate that kind of detail,” Adler took a drag of his cigarette before adding, “The scripts, Bell. I gave you the outline, you filled in the details.”

“With all due respect, sir,” you said tensely with a bit too much emphasis on the honorific to really be respectful, “That doesn’t mean a single damn thing when I don’t remember any of that.”

“Bell,” you felt yourself stiffen under his gaze. He was always wearing those sunglasses and you could never tell his emotions or who he was even looking at times, “I pulled a hell of a lot of strings to get you back here. I trust you won’t disappoint me and the team.”

You fought to stifle your shock.

Russell “it was never personal” Adler, the very man who put a round in your chest point-blank, was the one to request your reassignment to the team?

And of course there was that damnable feeling that lingered in your chest.

Everything about you was linked back to this team. It was your anchor in this new life of yours. And it felt...good to be back…

And as much as you wanted to deny it because really it was just such a damnable foolish feeling-

“I...I won’t let you down, sir.”

-you couldn’t help but feel relieved that Adler wanted you back.

And really wasn’t that just pathetic?

You felt the stinging sensation in your palm as nails pressed into your gloved palms. The sudden tightness in your chest made for a sudden urge to just get out of that small corner office.

It was the smoke, you told yourself. It lingered heavily in the cramped space. Of course, it would cause your chest to tighten.

Despite the sudden, desperate urge to just leave, you remained rooted to the spot at the front of Adler’s desk.

“If the main chute fails to deploy and affects the reserve chute, how am I supposed to react in time?”

“Do whatever it takes to get it open,” Adler simply answered before adding, “If that doesn’t work...well I would say aim for the bushes. But we’re going to be in the fucking desert. Aim for a sand dune and pray it’s quick.”

“Good advice,” was all you could quietly say.

...sometimes it still felt as if he wanted you to die.

“Anything else, kid?”

You took a breath. If you were going to die...well-

“About my Walkman…”

You were going to go out the way you wanted.

Lazar must have known your little conversation with Adler in his corner office wouldn’t take that long as he was standing in the nearby corridor with a rather grave look.

“Come on,” he had simply said, “I need backup in the cafeteria. Apparently it’s Chili Tuesday…”

Food was the last thing on your mind.

So honestly you hadn’t paid much attention to that little bit of information.

Although, you had bothered to switch out your mixtape which had long since stopped playing with the only other cassette you had on your person. You vaguely trading with one of the soldiers on the military transport you flew in on to get a new cassette tape. You could only bring a limited amount of items with you and you didn't want to risk breaking any of your priority cassette tapes. And you needed a song that you hadn't listened to before...even if it wasn't what you normally lent towards.

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo 'Cause tonight i'm gonna meet ma cher amio PIck guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo-

Of course, it just happened to be about food.

Trying to stop yourself from muttering about how your Walkman had to be cursed, you had just nodded and followed him down the corridors to the cafeteria. It was a fairly-sized open space with the usual setup.

Although, strangely there weren’t many soldiers there. It was almost time for meal service.

“Still on for the mission?” Lazar asked as the two of you sat yourselves down on the same table Sims had situated himself at.

“Yeah," you admitted before adding, "I swear he’s trying to kill me.” Although, you didn't really want to think about that. It was out of your control at this point.

“Well, you are Adler’s protégé,” Sims casually commented, looking up from his plate of...food? “I heard lions throw their cubs off cliffs to make them strong or shit like that. Maybe Adler’s doing the same to you.”

“I’m not his-” you cut yourself off. There was something more important you noticed, “Wait how did you get that?”

It was baked beans. Perfectly normal and cooked beans.

Nothing remarkable but it was normal, the standard canned kind.

“Heard about Chili Tuesday, specifically this one. Apparently, they’re serving 20-year old rations to us due to a supply shortage. They’re quite stingy-”

“How did you get it, Sims?” Lazar interjected.

“I have my ways of procurement.” And as you heard the exchange prices Sims listed, your jaw dropped.

You already had to pay for all those mixtapes and cassettes you bought on a weekly basis. You weren’t going to spend that much on some cans of beans at an outpost in the middle of nowhere.

Yet as you saw the churning red mass somehow called chili put on the cafeteria pans, you felt your stomach roll.

The idea of eating that before a HALO jump in the next few hours-

“Where are you going?” Sims asked as you stood from your seat abruptly.

“I have a mixtape to make.” you said, hurriedly excusing yourself. You’d rather have hunger pains than eat that before jumping off a C-13 Hercules at 30,000 ft in the air.

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo-

Nope, you thought fervently as you pressed pause on your Walkman. You did not want to be thinking about food right now.

Although, truly what you told Sims wasn’t quite a lie.

If you were going to go HALO jumping with no conscious experiences whatsoever, you were going to at least die trying with your Walkman.

All you had to now was make a whole new mixtape in the three hours you had remaining.

#Russell Adler #Russell Adler x Bell #Russell Adler/Bell #Female Bell #Fem!Bell #Female Bell!Reader #fanfiction #cod cold war fanfiction #fic: shot through the heart (and you're to blame)#soulmate au #soulmate songs/music au

54 notes · View notes

thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 4 years ago

Text

Odi et Amo II

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5764

A/N: It was supposed to be published last week, but I was unhappy with it and ended up rewriting it/adding some things. Sorry! (*_ _)人 P.S Sorry for my grammatical errors! Enjoy!

Chapter I

***

Currently sitting in front of your manager you eyed him. He seemed tired and you felt a pang of conscience it was probably because of your tweets last night and you wouldn’t even think of meeting him if you weren’t in dire need of getaway from the uncomfortable conversation with your neighbor. You didn’t meet in your agency’s building since both of you despised the place even though it was a new and flashy building made out of something that looked like a white marble. Both of you agreed on meeting outside it, so you were sitting in the café nearby while wondering how did your shitty boss manage to rent it. Last time you’ve been here, it was a few rooms in shabby, old building. You shivered while imagining going in, that place had an evil aura even from across the street.

"Where did you get all that money to rent it?" you asked.

"We actually bought it."

"Well, business goes well then."

"Actually we are only able thanks to your movies. Don’t tell Kim Pd-nim I told you, he thinks you'll become arrogant."

"I already am." You smiled coldly.

"That's what I told him."

Your manager had a sarcastic smirk on. Both of you and hated your CEO and even mentioning him would bring up unpleasant memories. Kim Sanghoon was one of those bosses who wouldn't even think about trying to help idols and stars that were bringing him money. No matter what it was — crazy fans destroying your life, death threats, your collapsing mental health he didn’t care. Once you were attacked by media and netizens you were on your own and if it was too much for the company your contract was terminated. You often wondered when would you become too much for them to handle.

"How do you feel?" Your manager caught you off guard, even though you had known each other for a long time there was an unspoken rule between you not to talk about other things than work.

"Honesty..I'm fine I don't understand why everyone asks me that." You huffed a bit irritated and run fingers through your hair.

"Well it's just.. I know it was important to you and you worked hard to earn the hearts of your Korean fa..."

"I'm fine." you didn't manage to hide irritation in your voice. You were not used to talking about it and you didn't like it one bit. Besides what were you supposed to say anyway? No one else was as hated as you. Of course there were idols and stars that were occasionally criticized but not one of them was constantly a target of such hatred. Even when you left there were still death threats send from your motherland to you, nothing changed. Not to mention no one else got such welcoming on the day of return to their home. It was unfair, stupid, infuriating and saddening. And yet you couldn’t understand what people were expecting of you? Both Mark and your manager knew you, or so you thought. What were you supposed to do? Cry? You wouldn't cry, that was what weak people do, that would show you actually care about what those assholes think about you. You were just fine. Ok. Neither sad nor happy. You'd endure whatever you had to but you won't conform to their image of idol and woman nor will you show any sign of weakness. You'd rather stay hated than do that. Your manager sighed and it pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Well then. If you're okay then I'm glad. So just as I told you I have this drama for you if you're interested." You weren't the slightest bit. Frankly you'd rather stay in bed for the next three months jobless than play some crazy villain or villainous second female lead. Then again you felt bad about the amount of work he probably had because of you. You looked him in the eyes and answered with a sigh.

"I can't promise anything but I can at least listen what it’s about.." Your manager seemed surprised, but he didn't wait long, perhaps in case you'd change your mind. He took out some papers and handed them to you. You cringed on the sole title "Love is your destiny" — it sounded sappy.

"So it's a love story between fallen angel and this human..." he started.

"Angels...so who do they want me to play? Satan? Devil? Succubus?" You browsed through pages to find the villain.

"You'd know if you'd let me finish." You sent him a small apologetic smile. "They want you to play the main role." You stared at him confused before you burst with laughter.

"They want me to play cute girl in love with the angel?" The idea of you playing the sweet female lead was absurd, not that you weren’t able to do it, you were a good actress it wouldn’t be a problem for you, if anything it would most likely be a challenge for the audience.

"No, no! You'd play the angel. See this is drama with strong female lead. The origin of your character is fascinating. You had to watch the mistreatment of a woman extremely devoted to god. The lady prayed, but she still got beaten, almost killed even. Moreover, you had to be the guardian angel of her torturer — the aggressive husband. You pleaded to god, you asked him to let you guard her instead, but he didn’t agree and forbade you from intervening. One night when the husband got drunk, he beat her unconscious and you were sure he’d kill her. You decided to save her, you kill her husband and this is the moment when you fell. That's when you became deviant and promised yourself you'd help those who were denied it. You’d protect them and avenge them. Fast-forward a thousand years, and we are in Seoul and you meet a man, a painter..." He was so excited you almost didn't understand some words because of the speed. He was waiting for your response but you were too occupied with reading what he handed you. Once you finished it you looked at him with a mix of surprise and excitement.

"It's like it was made for me.." you said with bewildered tone.

"That's because it was made for you. The screenwriter wrote it with you in mind." You looked like a cartoon character, eyes wide, mouth in a shape of letter "o", once you heard him.

"Me?"

"Yes. She is apparently a big fan."

"And tvN is ok with that?" You furrowed your brows confused.

"Perhaps they aren't. But it is co-production with Netflix, and they pushed for you since you’re popular worldwide."

Your heart fluttered and the tips of your fingers tingled from excitement as you rummaged through the pages once again, not only it would be showed in TV during the prime-time but also streamed on Netflix weekly.

"The screenwriter and producer kept calling me since yesterday as soon as it was known you came back. They almost cast someone else. They were sure you're staying in the USA. Isn't it amazing?" He was as excited as you were and you felt some remorse for being so rude to him before. You gave him your warmest smile, one you usually used only around Mark and your family.

"It really is. Thank you and I'm sorry for being rude earlier." He was clearly uncomfortable with your apology, red spreading on his cheeks as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah don't mention it. Does that mean I can call them and say you are interested." You looked at the pages in front of you once again and smiled broadly before simply saying.

"Yes!"

Jinyoung was still amused you threatened him in his own café. He couldn't focus on the book he had in his hands anymore as he chuckled replying your angered and irritated expressions in his head. It was fun to tease you because you reacted so well. He could tell you could be great friends if you'd let him. He smiled to himself mouthing your own words "bloody Y/N". He was truly shocked that he met you here of all places and found it rather amusing when you yelled in English and caught his attention. He felt some disappointment upon seeing a half naked man talking to you from the screen of your phone but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came up once your friend ended the call. Jinyoung wouldn't call himself a noisy person, but he found you interesting, and he wanted to know who it was and what kind of relationship you had although he rarely cared for stuff like this... His thoughts were interrupted by his ring-tone, BamBam's face illuminated the screen. He sighed but answered it anyway.

"Skrrrt, skrrt!"

"Ah yes, good morning to you to Bam." Jinyoung said in amused tone.

"Oh, hyung you seem in good mood. What you're up to?"

"Reading, thinking."

"Sounds boring wanna hang out?"

"Actually I wanted to ask you about something." Jinyoung ignored his question once he remembered how obsessed with celebrities and their styles Bam was.

"Shoot."

"Do you know any celebrities under the name Y/N." BamBam laughed wholeheartedly.

"That's very funny hyung."

"What do you mean?"

"OMG you're not joking! Are you living under a rock, hyung? Y/N is like the hottest actress ever. Her style is chic and comfy and artsy it's really cool, and she actually doesn't have a stylist, she does it on her ow..."

"She is an actress?"

"She is the actress! She played the White Fox in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lol, you call yourself an actor and you don't know the most popular Korean actress abroad."

"You know I don't like those superheroes movies. Besides why didn't I hear about her Korean career if she's so good?"

"You are so old it scares me sometimes. Well you should know her from internet. I think it's national sport to hate her or something. She just came back, and they're already frying her online not to mention the media and dating rumors."

"Dating rumors?"

"Yeah she dated few actors. I think Seojoon hyung dated her and Changwook hyung even almost proposed. The media made her to look like heartless vixen though. I mean they never liked her but her last ex gave a very unfavorable interview to dispatch and after that she became villain number one. She left shortly after."

"Mmmm... I see." Jinyoung only started his career four years ago so it shouldn't be weird you've never met before. He was also the type of person who couldn't care less about internet gossip and gutter press or dispatch. He sighed. Suddenly your angry reaction made much more sense and Jinyoung didn't feel as good about it as he did before. He scolded himself for being too frivolous and selfish. He just wanted to see your reactions - it was cute and funny...

"Why did you ask? OMG you've met her didn't you. I'm so jealous. What was she wearing? Was it Gucci? I heard she likes it."

"Ok Bam. I have to go. Thanks for the talk."

"Wait, so you wanna hang out?"

"Last time when you asked me to hang out I had to shop for 4 hours with you."

"Well... I am your stylist. Besides, it was fun, come on."

"I think we have different definitions of "fun""

You woke up to no noise pleasantly surprised. It seems that Sunday's were free from renovation and thanks to that you could sleep in. You stretched out and grabbed the phone to check the time. It was already past eleven. You smiled to yourself and fell to bed lazily. Soon you wouldn't have time for lazy days like this as the production team was supposed to finish up casting for the drama by the end of the next week. You thought about picking some groceries, maybe cooking yourself some food and enjoying the day with a book or perhaps some video games. You took shower and put on some comfortable clothes — beige cardigan you stole from Mark clearly too big for you and some black trousers pairing it up with brown coat. You left the apartment and as soon as you did the irritating voice in your head reminded you about your debt. Hesitant at first you shook off the feeling quickly and knocked on the door. This time you were prepared for teasing, you were expecting it even so you wouldn't be caught off guard. At least that's what you were telling yourself. Your neighbor, however, didn't act the way you expected him to. Instead of smirking at you and teasing you or straight up mocking you, he seemed nervous. He had deep purple bags under his usually sparkling eyes. Perhaps he didn’t feel well... you wondered whether you should ask him if he needed some help. You decided it would be extremely awkward and so you cleared your throat and spoke up — softness now somewhere in your voice.

"Is that bad time? I can come later I just wanted to give you back your money.."

"N-No." He started nervously "I mean no. It's fine. I'm actually glad you're here. Would you come in?"

You didn't want to come in and it must have shown on your face since he continued.

"Come on. I don't bite." He smiled warmly and it seemed much more normal than the timid self he showed you seconds ago. And so you came in curiously looking around his own apartment. It was a mirror image of your own in terms of room placements — a hallway leading to living room with opened kitchen. You came into the living room and Jinyoung rushed after you quickly turning the TV off. You didn't pay it any mind since you were looking around and taking in how different was his home compared to yours. It was very modern and yet it kept the homey feeling. Yours on the other hand, well it was raw yet full of stuff? Mark would probably call it unfinished and cluttered. Your neighbor sat on the other side of the couch leaving quite a lot of space between the two of you and run a hand through his hair. He wore a cardigan very similar to yours both in color and style in fact it could be the very same brand and style it’s just neither of you noticed it.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize." He responded quickly and gained a surprised look from you.

"Apologize?"

"Yes about yesterday…I shouldn't have said those things in public I could say I just didn't know about your situation but it’s no excuse. I’m truly sorry." he paused. "You don't have to be stressed about press or rumors though. It is my café and my staff, so they won't talk about it with anyone I took care of it." You took back everything you said, you weren’t prepared for meeting him, especially not getting apologies from him. On top of that he was the owner of your favorite café...

"I… it's fine." You said confused and tried to act as normal as possible while being very aware of your palms spread on your thighs. They were unnaturally clammy. It was a surprise to you, you rarely got any apologies and you were expecting some more teasing not something like that. Your eyes were everywhere except on him and you were screaming at yourself internally to say something, anything, but nothing was coming to your mind. Once again you lost your ability for forming witty sentences around him or in that case any sentences. There was awkward silence between you and you immensely regretted coming to see him today. You weren’t used to this. Somewhere in your belly you could feel as if butterflies - or rather moths — yes, moths of anxiety were fluttering their wings desperately trying to get into your chest. You never felt like this before. You tried to avoid looking at him but your own eyes betrayed you and fell on Jinyoung only to find out he was enjoying your anguish. His brown eyes were glimmering and his lips formed half smirk that he tried to cover with his left hand in a gesture of propping his head up. Immediately irritation came to you burning all the fluttering wings in the pits of your stomach. A frown formed on your face and you send him a glare. Wondering how could you be so stupid and fall for his act.

"You're really cute when you're shy or embarrassed." He chuckled now mocking you openly.

"I can't believe I took your apologies as sincere." He chuckled again clearly pleased with how you responded.

"They were sincere. I just enjoy teasing you."

"Could you stop? That's inappropriate you don't even know me."

"What do you mean we are neighbors and soon to be friends." He smiled broadly and for a second your mind travelled somewhere else simply admiring his beauty. You cursed his handsome face it could blind and charm everyone really. You wanted to leave, no you needed to leave. It was stuffy in here.

"I'm here for a reason." You reminded him, he was watching you with amusement. It felt almost as if a cat was observing you.

"Ah right... money." his tone seemed inattentive somehow. "I don't need it. Let's say it was a part of my apology."

"Just give me your account number and take the money."

"I don't remember it." You were getting more irritated every minute you talked to him.

"You don't remember your account number?" This man was unbelievable. He shrugged.

"You can send it to me through KakaoTalk if you really want." He smiled and took out the phone from the pocket of his pants.

"Fine. Just give it." Not wanting to spend any second longer here with him, you scanned his qr to add him quickly and transferred the money.

"Done. Now if you excuse me."

"Of course." He smiled again and you felt mocked by the sole action of his lips shooting upwards. He walked you to the door and watched as you slipped on your shoes. You tried to look as cold and dignified as possible but still tripped over the doorstep. He caught your arm firmly and straightened you. Your heart was beating so fast and hard all you could hear was blood pumping in your ears in fact you were sure he could hear it as well. On the other hand whose heart wouldn't when you almost fell face first, right…? Right? It surely wasn't because of his warm breath now tickling the crown of your head, nor the dangerously beautiful eyes... you absolutely regretted coming here today. It was foolish of you to think your cursed neighbor wouldn't shake you up today. And he was still holding you — how awkward is that; and you felt fine with being hold like that — what on earth was wrong with you? You started to think that maybe it would be better if you'd actually fell and hit that stupid head of yours.

Jinyoung was having very dangerous thoughts. The kind he didn't have in a very long time. He wasn't prepared for this kind of proximity. He was already shaken up yesterday by your touch and closeness he only held your hand for a second or two. Maybe he didn't show it but he was. Honestly he wasn't even into PDA or flirting with someone or even thinking of flirting with someone. Yes, he liked teasing, and he teased you but it was in a FRIENDLY manner. Well it was safe to say he didn't have friendshippy type of thoughts right now. Jinyoung reacted automatically upon seeing you fall he just grabbed your arm and pulled you his way. He was still holding your now tensed muscles, but he couldn't let go of you. He was in trance. Your warmth radiating onto him, the way the smell of your shampoo was tingling his nose, your huge doe-like shocked eyes, parted lips, soft pink on the apples of your cheeks. He was wondering how badly would you kill him if he asked to kiss you right now. He was seriously considering it worthy asking even if you were to pull out his tongue like you threatened yesterday. He didn't ask though, the rational part of his brain finally letting go of you. His own feeling were mess, but he did what he knew best — he masked his emotional disarray with some more teasing hoping you wouldn’t notice.

"Falling for me already?" He smirked even though internally he was screaming and already thinking of confiding in Jackson to get himself calmed. He was clearly the one falling and he was panicked. You rolled your eyes on him seemingly gaining the composure while he was getting stunned even by such simple gesture like this.

"You're way below my standards." You seemed annoyed. He smiled again although he wanted you to leave quickly and leave him alone with his feelings, so he can sort this out. Your eyes narrowed at him even more.

"I need to go now."

"Well, have a great day."

"Right, you too." You were so cold Jinyoung almost chuckled at it because it almost wounded him, and yet he liked it. He enjoyed teasing you too much. You were already walking to the elevator, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, and try not to fall when I'm not around to catch you, Y/N." He laughed and you were already frowning at him absolutely mad which made his heart skip a beat, you were really too cute when you frowned. Jinyoung closed the door before you could say anything or worse before he did. He realized he was in deep shit. He tried to think reasonably. He probably just had a crush because he spent a whole night watching movies and dramas you were starring in, he might have also accidentally watched all of your interviews and went to sleep at 6 still smiling to himself from that interview where you had to answer questions about your body in preparation for your role in that Marvel movie. The reporter wouldn't stop asking about your body and making comments on it even though you were clearly uninterested in the topic which you finally cut with your own questions. "Are you looking for some weight loss tips? You look great. Seriously what is it about? Are you trying to fit in my suit?" The last question was asked with whole whisper theatrics and Jinyoung laughed at loud at five am hoping he didn't wake you up through the wall. The suit in question was extremely fitting white leather catsuit. It wasn't the only interview in which you showed off your wits, eloquence and badassness, or how Bam would call it "swag". You were also the most attractive actress he had seen. Of course, you were also attractive when you weren't acting but on the screen... you were amazing. So Jinyoung tried to calm himself down rationalizing his earlier thoughts as simply being starstrucked. That’s what fans felt towards their idols, he was simply charmed by his own new idol. Yes that was it — that’s exactly the type of thoughts some fanboys or fangirls would have. He called Jackson anyway, he knew the designer was the right person to talk to in situations like this.

Twenty minutes later Jinyoung regretted ever calling his best friend.

"OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO IN LOVE WITH HER!" Jackson basically yelled to the phone. Jinyoung groaned and massaged the space between his brows.

"Were you even listening? I'm just a big fan."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night man. I’m a big fan of Christian Dior and all I can think of is making out with him."

"Don’t compare it, he is dead!" Jinyoung yelled and his friend filled his ear in response.

You were regretting not taking the car for shopping. The walk did help with your racing heart, and helped ease off your mind but it turned out the supermarket isn't that close any more when you have to drag home ten bags of food and products. Thankfully a convenience store was on your way so you could make a stop there maybe you'd be lucky enough to see Seoyun, buy her coffee and have a chat. You knew it was stupid, because she could've just feel obliged to say she is your fan but you still wanted to tell her about your new upcoming role. Sadly she wasn't there and so you just made a stop and sat on one of nearby benches. Massaging your palms that had those harsh red lines imprinted in them now thanks to the bags. You could swear you heard the sound of released shutter and so now alarmed you looked around but it seemed you were the only person here. You sighed, how paranoid have you become that you started hearing the cameras when there was none. Then again you were extremely lucky dispatch and paparazzi haven't found you yet. Just before you left to the USA, your ex gave this interview and your life became hell. You didn't have a day without paparazzi running after you or spying on you. The memories came to you not without acrimony and hurt. Your ex, an actor just like you, used you to create scandal and gain some popularity. You could remember how enraged and morose it made you. You didn't date anyone since then even when Mark tried to introduce you to some people. You intended on staying that way. You didn't need anyone, you had Mark, and he was enough for you. Just you and your best friend. You weren't sure how long you stayed like this, deep in your thoughts. You moved only after you fingers became stiff from cold. Somehow you managed to carry the groceries back home. You were so tired that you just counted it as your training today. You checked the time and it was one PM, perfect time to call your bestie.

"Markiee!!" You whined as soon as his face appeared on your screen.

"Y/N-ah. I miss you." He was wearing some blue hoodie this time.

"That's my line. Do you have time to talk?"

"Bruh, for you? Always. What's up?"

"I am going to star in a drama!"

"What? I thought you hate those." He was genuinely shocked.

"I know, I do. But this one is different. I'm not playing the villain I got female lead, and she isn't some damsel in distress she is a badass character!" You almost screamed and he chuckled.

"Woah. Someone's excited. I'm so proud of you. So who is getting the privilege to be cast with you?"

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet the cast next week." He nodded his head and smiled. "Anyway what are you up to?"

"I was actually thinking of playing Among Us and streaming wanna join?" He grinned.

"Absolutely, prepare to get wrecked Tuan." You used to play together at least once a week when you were in the USA, his fans loved you and shipped you even though you both told them you were just friends — it is some rule in the internet though, to ship close friends.

Few hours later you were once again killed as the first person, this time by Mark.

"YOU GONNA REGRET IT WHEN WE’LL MEET TUAN. I SWEAR I’M GONNA WHOOP YO ASS..." You screamed on top of your lungs and Mark laughed wholeheartedly, while his chat filled up with hundreds of LOL’s and LUL’s.

"You guys she threatens me. Someone make a clip and send it to the police once they find my dead body." He kept laughing and you couldn’t help but laugh as well. His smile and laugh were just too contagious.

"You really put our friendship to test lately Tuan, here I was foolishly trusting you when you killed me in cold blood. " You stretched and your stomach rumbled reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet and it was already around four pm.

" Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game. " He shrugged and winked, while you rolled your eyes.

"Okay Mark, I gotta go and eat. It’s already afternoon here."

"Sure, chat say bye to Y/N." They did as he asked and it was soon filled with many hearts and goodbyes. "Love you Y/N! Call me soon." He grinned and you smiled warmly.

"Love you too Mark. Bye guys!" With that you logged off the discord, and switched off his stream. You make your way to the kitchen and took out the ingredients for kimchi jjigae you bought before. You carefully read the recipe opened on your phone and began cooking. You had to make anchovy stock first so you grabbed some dried anchovies, kelp and slashed the daikon in cubicles — it looked quite awkward as each cubicle was different size but hey it was you eating it not some kind of culinary critic. You added water and left it to boil deciding to take care of the rest of ingredients. You cut some kimchi and ate some as a snack and reward for not ordering food today, sliced some green onions, cut the pork and the tofu as well. By the time you were done it was time to strain the broth and add the rest of ingredients. It had to cook so you decided to watch some TV in the meantime. You turned it on, it was some kind of reality show where idols were supposed to camp in the wild for a few days. The idols clearly didn’t feel like being there and the fact you knew neither of them didn’t help. You dozed off before you noticed, your eyelids getting as heavy as iron. The smell of burning woke you up. You shot upwards from your couch and rushed to the kitchen, bumping into a coffee table on your way there.

"FFFFFF-UUCK." you hissed, when your shin pulsed with pain. You quickly grabbed the pot with stew to get it off the fire, forgetting it would be hot as well. You hissed in pain and let id drop on your marble floor which was now covered in burned kimchi and some other things. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking shit." You cursed as you tried to navigate to the sink to ease off the burn with some cold water. The cold water did help and you sighed with relief only to later follow it with a sigh of resignation. You had to clean up this mess. It was when your phone barked — a new message. You checked it.

From Unknown number: Are you trying to burn down the whole building?

You furrowed your brows confused, wondering if it was one of those jokes or spam messages you heard about.

To Unknown number: Who’s this?

From Unknown number: Guess.

You huffed in disbelief.

To Unknown number: Ok, enjoy being blocked.

From Unknown number: Wait!

From Unknown number: It’s Jinyoung.

To Unknown number: How did you get my number? Never mind I’m blocking you I’m too busy to deal with you.

With that you put the phone back in your pocket and began cleaning up. You finished in no time now tired out by scrubbing. You sat on the floor and took out your phone to check it out. From Unknown number: Don’t block me what if you need my help one day.

To Unknown number: With what exactly?

From Unknown number: What if you get stuck in your bathroom and need someone to let you out?

You rolled your eyes and saved his contact

To Devil: There is at least 7 billion more people I’d rather ask to help me

From Devil: Ok then what if I get stuck in the bathroom and need your help.

To Devil: I’d leave you there

From Devil: Heartless

To Devil: Better tell me how did you get my phone number

From Devil: You gave it to me when you scanned my kakao code

You were bewildered, was that his plan from the very beginning or were you just paranoid? You were either prejudiced or he was in fact the devil with angel's face.

To Devil: Did you lie about not remembering your account number?

From Devil: Maybe

You couldn’t believe it, the audacity, the smugness. You could feel irritation building inside you but you decide to let it go when your stomach rumbled at you aggressively. After eating you took shower, read a few chapters of The Vegetarian and fell asleep.

Next week passed quickly but in the feeling of anticipation as you were supposed to meet the rest of the cast as well as the scriptwriter and director at the meeting on Friday. You kept calling your manager throughout the week trying to find out who could they be, but he didn’t know anything or didn’t want to tell you. And so you spent the week on training, running, reading and occasionally calling Mark to express your impatience and excitement. You didn’t meet your irritating neighbor even once this week — something you counted as blessing or perhaps a sign that the universe finally turned your karma around. It was finally Friday and you were already sitting in the meeting room waiting for everyone to come in. You smiled at the young man sitting next to you, he was really cute and had this mole under his right eye it added to his charm. He was about to introduce himself, when someone came through the door and greeted everyone cheerfully. You couldn’t believe it. You were cursed, actually cursed.

"YOU?!" was all that left your mouth upon seeing him entering the room.

47 notes · View notes

idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44 · 4 years ago

Text

Mirror

(AO3 Link)

Mirror. A reflective surface, often framed and decorated, in which your own appearance may be seen.

The first time Kagami snuck out was in the middle of July. She was supposed to be studying next year’s coursework, and she had gotten as far as cracking open the brand-new pre-calc textbook before she was suddenly standing, full of energy and not sure what to do with it. She fiddled with the choker Ladybug had finally entrusted her with that winter, and before she even made the decision to, she found herself on the roof, wrapped in an armor of spandex and magic. That first night was full of a dread that made her movements sloppy, her jumps often stumbled and her heart over-fast. Her mother had trusted her to study, to stay in her room and do as she was told. Slipping back through her bedroom window to find her treachery undiscovered filled her with a heady rush. A secret. She had a secret.

From then it became a habit. About once a week, often more, when she was supposed to be studying, she climbed out her window and took to the rooftops. She hadn’t realized how little of Paris she had seen until then. She visited kitschy sandwich shops and outdoor farmer’s markets. One particularly tepid August day, the week before school started, she stumbled upon a dance battle outside a small hip hop studio (she didn’t win, not by a long shot, but something about the feeling of being a part of a crowd, of a moment, thrilled her). After years of magical ladybugs and rampaging akumas and mayor’s daughters becoming superheroes, it was practically mundane to have a girl dressed in a dragon-y onesie visit your grocery store. She’d been complimented on her “cosplay” at least three times. She didn’t tell the other superheroes. She didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t against the rules or anything. Rena Rouge regularly picked up pizza before team hangouts, and Chat Noir had been spotted frequenting a flower shop once or twice. It was nice, though. To have something that was just hers. That wasn’t for anybody else. That she did just because she wanted to.

The first time she got a B on a homework assignment was an equal-parts mixture of confusingly exhilarating and nerve wracking. At first she was sure she would burn it. Shred it or rip it up and hide it in a dumpster where no one could find it. But instead she smoothed it out from where her tight grip had crumpled the paper, and slipped it in her backpack. She taped it to the back of her locker, and every now and then she would look at it and smile. She didn’t have any friends at school to ask her why. Even if she had, she wasn’t sure what she would say. Something about the curved letter, splashed in bright red across the top right corner of her history paper, made her feel like she was tethered. One large, egregious stomp of a footprint where before she had tiptoed, barely indenting the sand.

She was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Kagami wasn’t sure it was a deli, to be clear. It sold sandwich meats and cheese, but also fresh fish and honey cakes when the owner’s elderly mother made a batch, and a collection of awful romance novels on a shelf in the back that the owner collected and nobody bought. But the sign out front said “Alberts’ Deli,” so, Kagami was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Or, more specifically, Ryuko was. But Ryuko was more Kagami than Kagami was Kagami, most days. The girl was blonde and overwhelmingly foul mooded. She was rarely spotted without pink bubblegum scrunched between her teeth, and she was pessimistic in a way that made Kagami feel positively bubbly in comparison. When Kagami ordered fish, the girl went out of her way to find interesting newspapers to wrap it in, a sort of inside joke between the two of them. Kagami had never properly had an inside joke with someone before. Kagami didn’t know what to do with the fish that she bought. The money wasn’t a problem, she had a weekly allowance and nowhere to spend it barring the few times a month she and Adrien got together, but she hated wasting the fish, and it wasn’t like she could just leave it in her refrigerator. Her mom still didn’t know she’d been sneaking out, and mystery fish wasn’t easy to brush off. So far she’d been leaving it on Marinette’s balcony, because she seemed like the type of person who knew what to do with spare fish. But this weekend her mother was out of town until Sunday afternoon, and Kagami had an idea. Kagami didn’t know how to cook. Maybe she should have spent more time contemplating that, but she pulled up a recipe and googled how to use the stove. She burned herself three times, twice on her pinkie finger and once across her palm, but she ended up with an arguably passable cooked fish. It was a little burnt and a little under seasoned, but she ate the whole thing, and hand washed her plates and the pan, returning them exactly where they had been. It felt like a victory.

“I’m gay,” she said to an old man as she helped him cross the street. He looked a little confused, due to her being a complete stranger, but shrugged and said, “Whatever floats your boat, Missy.” “I’m gay,” she said to the girl who worked at the deli. “Am I supposed to act surprised?” Adelaide returned in a bored voice, scrounging up a copy of the funnies that she’d saved at the bottom of the newspaper pile in the case that Kagami stopped by. Kagami smiled. “I’m gay,” Kagami tells Ladybug, on accident when the two of them are partnered up on patrol. She hadn’t meant to. She’d wanted to keep her life and Her Life separate. But it was out there now. “Oh,” Ladybug said, looking a little shocked. “Oh, okay.” “Is that okay?” Kagami asked, hesitating before her next jump and fumbling the landing. “Yes,” Ladybug said, and Kagami knew that she would say yes, she did know it, but something in her breathed a sigh of relief anyway, “Yes of course it’s okay.”

Kagami joined a hip hop class. Not Ryuko-Kagami. Kagami-Kagami. Kagami, face bare of any mask and hands exposed to the open air, asked her mother if she could sign up for a dance class at the studio where the dance battle had been. She didn’t tell her mother about the dance battle. Her mother had been confused, at first. But she’d agreed. Reluctantly, but she’d agreed. Kagami’s first class went poorly. It was November, so everyone else was leagues ahead of her, and she kept messing up the moves. Her arms felt jerky and awkward and her feet were never quite in the right place it seemed. She didn’t know if she’d ever been that happy in her life.

The B on her homework didn’t become a common recurrence. She kept the history paper taped to her locked, and it was joined by one pre-calc assignment and a lab write up, but overall she kept her grades up. She knew her place in the hip-hop class was more or less dependent on her school and fencing performance remaining unchanged. She’d made one friend though. “What’s that about?” George asked the first time they walked together to their lockers, hers and then his, in order of closeness to their final class, “You do know that you get the top grades in, like, the whole year, right? You don’t have to torture yourself with the few average grades you get. Anyone would be jealous to just have 3 Bs.” “No,” she said, “It’s not about that.” He seemed to want to ask what it was about, then, but she shrugged. They walked in silence to his locker, and she leaned against the wall as he stuffed back-breaking textbooks into his backpack. “My name means mirror,” she said finally, and he looked up, curious, “Sometimes it’s nice to… remind myself I’m not just the things people want to see in me. I guess.” “That’s… poetic,” George said, but not like he was mocking her. Kagami felt half her mouth lift in an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

She ends up not being very well suited to hip hop. Which isn’t to say that she quitted, just that she discovered her “worst in the class” phase wasn’t much of a phase at all. The gap became smaller, though. Penelope, a girl not much younger than Kagami, asked Kagami to help her with the footwork she forgot. The teacher corrected her less and less. She stopped feeling like a fish out of water and more like an average fish in a school of particularly exceptional fish… or something. They had a dance battle again. The studio puts them on once every three months, and participation isn’t mandatory but there’s no shortage of friendly peer-pressure. Kagami finds out that it’s scarier to dance in front of a crowd when you know them and they know you. When you’re not just a stranger in a mask. She didn’t anticipate how much sweeter the failure feels when, upon hopping off the makeshift outdoor stage, you’re surrounded by friends (and they are her friends, she has so many more friends than she could have ever imagined) whom holler and yell about how “AMAZING you were, Kagami, oh my god you killed it!” Penelope shyly asked if Kagami could show her how to do the jump Kagami had made up. It was a weird jump, kind of stumble-y and very awkward. Kagami shows her anyway. (She was still the worst in the class. She really didn’t mind.)

“You seem different,” Adrien said off-handedly one evening. The two of them were eating ice cream in the park, watching the newly sprung-up grass sway in the breeze. There was still some snow on the ground, leftover from the last big storm of winter. “I know,” Kagami said, “I feel different.” “You seem happier,” he added, getting chocolate all over his face. She smiled, and handed him a napkin, and stared up at the sky. “I spent so much time trying to be what other people wanted me to be,” she said, taking a contemplative lick of her strawberry ice cream, “And then I decided to figure out who I was when I wasn’t.” Adrien was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure who I am all the time,” he confessed. Kagami giggled. “Me neither.”

#Kagami Tsurugi #kagami tsurugi fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #kagami centric #character study #kagami tsurugi character study

13 notes · View notes

silverfootstepswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Amaryllis | Chapter 19

< Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 >

++++

Shisui started off his day by spitting tea halfway across the table. He rubbed his handkerchief over his mouth and chin as he struggled to make sense of what his cousin had just said.

“You think what?” he hissed. And then, clearing his throat, he cast a look around the room. Sasuke’s guards were standing outside. The servant girl who had delivered their tea and snacks had long since departed. Still, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. Even if he hadn’t been the one to bring up the subject, him sitting and listening now made him complicit to whatever was to come of this.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I hate the idea more than you do,” Sasuke sighed. He set his teacup down in the matching saucer.

“You’re speaking treason. You’re going to get yourself killed. Oh, and me as well, now that you’ve roped me into your madness,” Shisui worried.

“You think I don’t know that?” It was Sasuke’s turn to snap. His hands clenched on top of the table.

Shisui’s protests trailed off. They stared at each other. Shisui lowered his handkerchief.

“Is that why Itachi is still abroad?” he whispered, leaning in across the table.

Sasuke nodded. Just once.

“So what do you need from me?” Shisui then demanded.

Sasuke hesitated. He chose his words carefully before he asked: “Your wife… do you think she can be trusted?”

Shisui hissed through his teeth. He leaned back, rubbing a hand through his hair. When his eyes returned to Sasuke, they were sharp with accusation.

“You’ll get her killed.”

“Can she be trusted?” Sasuke repeated his question.

Shisui rubbed his hair again. And then he heaved a sigh. “Of course she can.”

“How do you know?” pressed Sasuke.

“She just…” Shisui paused. Huffed out a long breath through his nostrils. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Opened them again. “I’d trust her with my life and yours. Tell me what you want.”

Each of the members of the royal family had a personal physician. It was the doctor’s job to know everything about them. To anticipate their needs and to provide prompt treatment. Finding one doctor was a challenge. Finding four was a miracle. Although, with enough money and power, even miracles were for sale.

Sasuke’s physician was a pleasant older man with perpetually cool hands. He had overseen Sasuke’s care since birth. And while he was certainly competent at his job, he wasn’t the person Sasuke needed to talk to.

Karin lowered her spectacles to stare at the two men that entered her office.

“Why not take a break, my love?” Shisui greeted her. He crossed the room before he produced a small bouquet of yellow flowers. Karin didn’t look at the flowers. She continued to examine Shisui’s smile.

She squinted at him.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

Shisui held the flowers up higher. Until she was forced to look down at them. His smile widened as she glowered and accepted them.

“Nothing yet,” Shisui assured her. Karin wrinkled her nose. She fussed with the bright flowers for a moment before she motioned for them to have a seat in front of her desk.

As they settled into their spots, Sasuke tilted his head. He looked from his cousin, a baron of modest but good standing. And then to his mother’s physician, a common woman who was tolerated in the palace due to her skill.

“How did you two marry anyway?” he wondered out loud.

Karin fixed Shisui with another sharp look. “He pursued me aggressively, getting in the way of my work,” she accused.

Shisui leaned against the arm of his chair. “For months,” he added. And then he gave a proud smile. “She despised me. I came to her office every day until she threatened to report me to Her Majesty the Queen.”

Sasuke made a face as he watched the two of them banter back and forth.

He had never understood relationships. He understood that, as a prince, he would eventually have to marry.

His parents were an example of a good union. They spent the required amount of time together for the public eye. Their conversations were polite. Almost always pleasant. On their weekly walks in the garden, courtiers loved to comment at what a lovely couple they made. His father had always honored his mother, and his mother had always supported his father. That was all he had ever known.

From a young age, his mother had made an effort to introduce him to potential brides. But she had never pushed him. Listened to his complaints with patience. Chided him when he was less than polite to these girls. Sitting on her knee, Sasuke had wondered why such silly little things seemed to matter so much to his uncles.

“A stable marriage, my son, leads to a stable kingdom. Your partner will determine the fate of this nation and all its people,” she had always explained to him.

But sometimes, when he looked at his cousin and his cousin’s wife, he wondered whether there might not be more to it than just stability.

“Anyway, as nice as it is to see you, Prince, I’m assuming this isn’t a social visit?” Karin interrupted his thinking. She raised her spectacles on top of her head. The metal and glass was lost in her tangle of deep red hair. He had only ever seen a color like that once before. It was rare enough to turn heads wherever she went.

“Shisui claims that I can trust you with my life. Is that true, Physician?”asked Sasuke.

Karin’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what he said?” she mused. She looked down at the flowers again. Then back up at Sasuke. “Have you gotten yourself into some trouble, Your Highness?”

Shisui pinched his mouth together, trying not to smile. He turned away and pretended to look out the window.

“Well… not yet. It… it depends on your answer, I suppose,” Sasuke conceded.

Karin’s scrutinizing gaze didn’t leave his face. “Your question makes me feel the need to remind you that I am in the service of your mother, Your Highness,” she stated.

Sasuke felt heat creep up the back of his neck. But he refused to look away. He nodded.

And after what felt like an eternity, Karin smiled.

“But, ultimately, I serve the Crown. So what can I help you with?”

+++

Itachi hadn’t quite known what to expect when people had warned him of the rainy season that settled over the tea isles for half the year. The rain rarely lasted for the whole day. Often, storms hurried in, enveloping the island before rushing off just as quickly. Sometimes, people didn’t even bother rushing indoors. Baskets on their hips, they leaned against palm trees or ducked under eaves until the clouds passed.

But on the days when the rain lingered, it drenched the island. The walkways grew slick, and some of the regular paths turned to mud. The servants of Sami were busy mopping up puddles and searching for leaks. Small problems had to be addressed before they could grow. A tiny leak gone undetected could lead to the entire roof collapsing in a few month’s time.

Still, life went on. Even during this rainy season.

The stalls in the market had been designed with this precipitation in mind. Panels folded and shutters closed to protect the wares within. And when the rain eased a little, the stalls opened back up to conduct business as usual. Even in the rain, divers continued to hunt for pearls. The servants in the palace kept kneading dough and folding laundry that had barely made it inside in time.

Dark clouds had gathered on the horizon at dawn. Before the sun could lift its face over the horizon, rain battered the side of the building. Normally, the opened sides of the throne room let the breeze rush through. But during the rainy season, wooden panels were installed to keep the wind and the water out.

“Please, My Lord. I am innocent,” an old man rasped. His wrinkled hands gripped his walking stick.

The Duchess’ large chair was empty. Instead, Sasori sat in a smaller chair beside it.

The space between Sasori’s eyebrows wrinkled. He leaned his cheek on his hand as he stared the man down.

“Accusing someone of withholding wages is a serious matter,” Sasori stated. He narrowed his eyes. “I doubt it is something that was done without thought.”

The old man’s shoulders trembled. He bowed his head. But he did not stumble over his words as he replied: “Yes, My Lord.”

Sasori stared for another moment. And then he closed his eyes.

“Very well. I will look into this matter. And if you have paid this man for his work, he will be punished for false accusations,” he decided.

The old man bowed even deeper. He stayed that way for a long time before he shuffled his way out. Sasori watched him. He rolled some observations around in his head. And then, very carefully, he motioned for a nearby guard.

Sasori pressed a finger to his lips. He waited for the guard to nod before he whispered something. The guard only nodded before he made his way out of the throne room. Sasori leaned his elbow on his armrest. He heaved a sigh before he motioned for the next person.

Leaning against a column, Itachi frowned. The verdict Sasori had laid out was both fair and pragmatic. But something about the exchange had felt a little off.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Sasori turned his head to look at him. The corner of his mouth lifted. He pointed to his foot.

“His limp,” was all Sasori said.

It took a moment for Itachi to realize what he meant. When the old man had entered, he had favored his right leg. But as he departed, he had favored his left. As if standing there under Sasori’s piercing stare had made him forget which side was supposed to hurt. As Itachi’s eyes widened, Sasori smirked. Sasori shook his head.

“People are so sloppy,” he sighed.

As the next person entered for audience, Sasori’s smile faded. But there was still something smug about his eyes as he cast Itachi one last, knowing look.

“What brings you here today? The Duchess is occupied, but I will hear your grievances,” Sasori recited, as he had half a dozen times that morning.

But as Itachi settled in to listen to this next case, he felt something on his shoulder. As he turned, he was met with a white mask and a wild mane of straw-colored hair. He jolted.

Out of all the sword-wielding mercenaries who wandered the palace, Kushimaru was the only one that Itachi could not get used to. Part of that was undoubtedly the way he never took off that mask. And the other was because he never spoke.

Even now, all Kushimaru did was hold out a slip of paper.

Itachi accepted it. He unfolded it to find a short message. It only took a moment to read.

“Right now?” he asked.

Kushimaru dipped his head once. And then he stalked off.

Itachi folded the note and placed it in his pocket. He turned back to Sasori to let him know that he would be leaving. But Sasori was already looking at him. He nodded before Itachi had a chance to mouth anything. Sometimes, Sasori’s acuity was a little frightening.

It had been almost half a year since Sakura’s departure.

In that time, Itachi had learned many things. Like when the fishermen greeted him with a smiling “Howzit, Prince”, he was supposed to answer, “Good. And you?”. Or how arguments in the bazaar always sounded angrier than they actually were. After getting turned around for a few weeks, Itachi had even learned the layout of most of the palace.

In turn, the people of the island were learning about him too. Shizune remembered that he preferred fish and poultry to red meat. The servants starched his clothes a little less because he liked his shirts soft. There was a merchant with a wooden finger who always sent word whenever he procured a new book that he thought might interest him.

Sasuke wrote at least once a week. It was amusing how he spoke to his little brother so much more now that they lived so far apart. The contents of his messages mostly described the mundane. Sasuke wrote about the weather. About how some noble’s daughter had thrown herself at him and begged to have his children. Every once in a while, there were hints of more serious matters, but Sasuke never went into enough detail to cause problems should someone intercept his messages.

From what Itachi could gather, Sasuke had begun requesting more duties. Their father would, undoubtedly, approve of his youngest son taking on more responsibilities. And the nobles who wanted the second prince on the throne would begin moving soon when they began to see Sasuke gaining favor.

As Itachi stepped out of the throne room, he stretched his hand out. A single drop of water fell into his palm, rolling down to his wrist. The rain had retreated, at least for a little while. The dark clouds on the horizon promised more precipitation to come.

“Ah, there you are!”

Itachi lifted his head as Kisame’s voice boomed out. The tall, blue mercenary waved as he strode down the walkway.

“Drinks on me, Prince!” he announced.

Itachi didn’t resist as Kisame threw his arm around his shoulder and lead him in the direction of the city. As they passed, the guards bowed. They sloshed down the steps together, Kisame going on about some type of new drink at one of his usual haunts. The chatter went on and on as they walked the damp streets.

The Sailor’s Rest was one of the oldest taverns in Plumeria. The Swordsmen of the Mist had taken up lodging there during their first days on the island. Although Sakura had offered them rooms in the palace, the mercenaries had declined.

Chojuro was sitting at one of the tables when they entered. Across from him sat Zabuza, who leaned with his feet up on the table. As Kisame walked past, he slapped one of Zabuza’s boots.

“Mind your manners around the prince, Zabuza,” Kisame joked.

“He’s not my master and neither are you,” growled Zabuza in response.

“Yes, your only master lies in your loins,” Chojuro commented as he continued writing. Zabuza’s eyes narrowed.

Kisame grinned. “Honestly. The General would kill you if she could see the way you follow that servant boy,” he goaded.

The space between Zabuza’s eyebrows wrinkled. He glared down at his tankard. “That’s not…” He huffed out a long breath. Before he could finish his thought, Kisame threw himself down in the seat beside Zabuza. He gave him a hearty thump on the back.

“Relax, Zabuza. You look more and more like an old man these days,” Kisame teased.

Zabuza shot another glare at him. “You’re a year older than me.”

“I’m a fresh-faced lad at heart,” retorted Kisame.

A noise of disgust rose around the table. Kisame looked up when something hit his head. He glared up at the rafters, where Kushimaru was undoubtedly hiding.

“Alright, alright. Drinks on me,” Kisame conceded. The noises of disgust faded away.

As the bartender began pouring their drinks, Itachi looked around the room.

Itachi glanced over as Chojuro began packing up his things. “What were you working on?”

Chojuro was oddly soft-spoken to be a mercenary. It was also strange enough that he was literate. Sakura had mentioned once that she thought Chojuro must be a bastard. One who had received an education from his father, but not an inheritance.

“We have a lot of those in the army. I like them. They’re desperate to show the world that they matter. They work harder than most,” she had commented in passing.

“Just making note of some things. It makes it easier to keep facts straight if they’re recorded,” answered Chojuro. As he spoke, Chojuro shut his journal and placed it under his thigh.

The drinks arrived at the table. Kisame took a gulp of his mead.

“How are you feeling, Prince?” he then asked.

Itachi rotated his shoulder as he thought. “A little sore, but otherwise fine. I can’t help but wonder whether you’ve been going easy on me lately,” answered Itachi before he took a sip.

Kisame wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before he grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Sounds to me like someone’s ready for a bigger challenge,” he declared.

“Or you could do things in moderation, Boss,” Chojuro interrupted.

Kisame made a noise of disgust as he repeated the word: “Moderation.”

Chojuro rolled his eyes.

“You break the prince and I doubt the lady will show you any moderation,” Chojuro warned.

Kisame jerked a thumb in Itachi’s direction. “He won’t break so easy.”

Itachi met Kisame’s eyes. There was something in Kisame’s gaze that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t joking.

Kisame’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. Chojuro’s fingers slipped into his vest. Itachi followed their stares, turning his head just as the door opened.

Two men walked in, stinking of salt and fish. Their hair and clothes were wet, dripping onto the floor. They each raised a hand in greeting to the mercenaries.

“Howzit, Big Blue,” one of them called out as they crossed the room to join them.

“Not too bad. How was the catch today?” responded Kisame, his hand falling away from his weapon. Chojuro’s expression relaxed as he nodded at the other men.

The fishermen shook their heads. “Poor catch. Maybe we need a new spot,” they lamented. And then their faces lit up even more when they spotted Itachi.

“Ah, howzit, Prince? You looking strong these days,” one of the men commented.

“He trying to catch up with the Duchess, dass why,” the other said.

Everyone, including Itachi, chuckled.

“Please, have a seat. You must be tired,” Itachi insisted. The two fishermen sank into the chairs with sighs. They ordered their drinks, and then they settled in, fanning themselves.

“Ah, you know, Big Blue, we saw something strange before,” one of them suddenly brought up.

Kisame arched an eyebrow as he finished off his mead.

“Saw some buggah sailing in from the west. Weird boat. So we ask him if he lost. Says no. Rude, too,” he recounted.

“Why was it weird?” Kisame queried.

The fisherman shrugged. “Not a canoe like for fishing. Merchant boat, but shaped funny,” he recalled, rubbing his chin.

“Funny?” Chojuro repeated.

The fisherman squinted as he thought. When he looked over his companion, the other fisherman nodded.

“Kind of small… And- ah! There was a crest!” he recalled. He looked around the table. Chojuro had already pulled out his journal and turned to a clean page. He presented his pen, leaning over as he watched the man sketch out what he had seen as best as he could.

Chojuro’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “That is odd…” he agreed. His gaze trailed to Kisame, who raised his eyebrows as he thought. He shrugged one shoulder. Chojuro stayed for one drink before he quietly excused himself, journal tucked under his arm.

++++

To the west, in the landlocked capital of the Forest Kingdom, where fishing was neither good nor bad, Naruto found himself at the doors of the temple again.

“So are you going to go in, or are you just going to stand here breathing heavily like some sort of pervert?” Sai drawled.

Naruto spared him a glare. “You don’t have to be here, you know,” Naruto snapped.

Sai blinked. Like he hadn’t expected his charge to talk back. After all, Naruto was usually all laughs and sheepish grins. Sai searched Naruto’s expression before he shrugged.

“They would have my head if anything happened to you. And a certain General isn’t around to play savior,” remarked Sai.

Naruto squinted at him. “You sound real invested in my safety,” he retorted.

Sai smiled. Hand over his heart, he dipped his head. “Your well-being is my top priority. I’m sworn to watch over you, remember?” he uttered. Something about his tone felt threatening.

Naruto felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He swallowed.

“…You don’t have to come inside. Wait out here,” Naruto said.

Sai’s eyebrows rose. He searched Naruto’s face before he gave another smile.

“Of course,” he answered. He bowed too deep before he opened the door. It slammed behind Naruto as he stepped into the temple. The sound made him flinch. It echoed off the high ceilings. Thankfully, there was no one praying to disrupt. But it did make the High Priestess gasp. She dropped something metal. It went skittering across the stone.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed. As she got down on her hands and knees, Naruto sprinted down the aisle.

“Let me help you!” Naruto called. The priestess’ head rose toward the sound of his voice.

Naruto found the pendant under one of the pews. He rubbed it clean against his shirt.

“Here,” he said.

She held her hands out, skin white against the soft purple of her robes. The chain pooled in her palm. She closed her fingers around the metal disk. And then she smiled.

“Thank you, Prince. You are too kind,” she murmured.

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah… well, it’s kind of my fault you dropped it. My retainer slammed the door. Sorry about that,” he confessed.

Hinata’s smile brightened. “An apology isn’t necessary. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Like all high priestesses before her, Hinata could not see. Blindness was seen as a blessing from the goddess that marked them as chosen. The priestess could remain unsullied by the things of the world if she could not see them. Hinata wore a translucent veil over her face, but anyone could see the cloudiness of her eyes. The way they searched without seeing. She had been born sightless. People had gushed to Duke Hyuuga over how blessed his family was to have given birth to the next high priestess.

Naruto didn’t really care about those things.

The high priestess’ smiles were real. And she was kind. Two things that were becoming harder and harder to come by in this city.

Or, perhaps, he was starting to recognize when a smile wasn’t so sincere.

“How… how have you been?” Naruto asked, struggling not to trip over his words.

Hinata dipped her head. “Quite well. And you, Your Highness?” she asked in turn.

Naruto looked down at his hands. He fidgeted a little before he lifted his chin. He cast a glance around the temple, just to make sure that it was empty.

“Worried… um…” Naruto paused. Stole a glance at Hinata. Her head tilted to one side as she listened.

Naruto tried not to panic before he pulled the words out. Just as he had rehearsed in his head a dozen times over. “Can I get your advice on something?”

“Of course. The temple exists to provide guidance for those who feel lost,” Hinata responded.

“Can we… uh… should we sit?” he then suggesting, glancing around again. Hinata’s smile didn’t change.

“If that would make you more comfortable, most certainly. Would you please assist me?” she requested, holding out her bare hand.

Naruto gulped. He hesitated for a moment. And then he took it. Her skin was smooth and soft. Her hand was so much smaller than his, he realized as he helped her into the nearest pew. When she sat, she withdrew her hand back into her sleeve. Naruto couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

He sat beside her, leaving some distance between them. He flexed his empty hand that suddenly felt cold.

“So…” Naruto exhaled deeply. He knocked his palm against his forehead, as if that would shake the words loose.

“Please take your time. There is no need to rush,” Hinata assured him.

That did help a little. He managed to grasp the unraveling threads of the question he had nearly forgotten.

“Say that you have a friend. And… you used to be closer. But lately you’re more… uh…” Naruto stopped as he searched for the word.

“Distant?” suggested Hinata.

Naruto nodded. “Exactly! Distant!” The word echoed back across the vaulted ceiling. Naruto slapped his hands down on his mouth. When he snuck a peek over at Hinata, she didn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he pried his hands away.

She nodded. “Quite alright.”

“So, I’ve been trying everything to make things better. But there are just lots of things in this… person’s… life that I want to understand. It’s just like there’s a wall up between us or something,” Naruto explained. He heaved a sigh, elbows resting on his knees. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“I just… I know I’ve messed up some things too. I want to be better. And sometimes it feels like I am being better. But other times… I just don’t know…” he trailed off.

It was quiet for a while. And then Hinata opened her mouth.

“Is it uncomfortable to speak in person with this friend?” she wondered.

Naruto considered that. He chuckled a little. “Yes. I feel like I say the wrong thing… a lot,” he confessed. “Maybe it’s because I get nervous.”

Hinata lifted her arms to adjust her sleeves. There was a thin golden band around her left wrist. It glittered with the movement. Naruto found himself staring at it.

“Have you tried writing to him instead? I often hear that it is easier for some to gather thoughts on paper,” she suggested.

Naruto hung his head. His silence was an answer in itself.

“Your friend… he does not write back to you?” asked Hinata.

“Sh- He doesn’t,” he replied.

Letters upon letters left the capital. Sometimes he even wrote daily. But the days stretched on without a single envelope addressed for him. Even a passing mention of his letters would have been enough in person. But she always stared at him with the same look of impatience. If she even looked at him at all. Sometimes Sakura’s eyes passed right over him- like he was invisible.

“That must be hurtful,” Hinata sympathized. And then her expression shifted. “Perhaps… Have you asked, Prince?”

“Asked what?” Naruto asked in the same glum voice.

“Whether your friend has received your letters. Messengers travel a long way. Letters can get lost now and then,” she explained.

“Maybe… well… no. I have no way of knowing that. I… didn’t think to ask,” Naruto mumbled.

Hinata’s hands slipped back into her sleeves. She offered him a gentle smile. “Then perhaps that is something you can ask him the next time you see him. Misunderstandings grow large in the absence of communication, you see.”

Naruto’s gaze drifted toward the window. The light danced in through leaves. The shadows rippled and swayed across the floor like so many dancers.

“Maybe I should,” he agreed.

As he meditated on this, it occurred to him that Hinata might be right.

The cousin he had grown to admire and then fear had once been his friend. Although she had always been smarter and faster, she had never abandoned him in the woods or left him in whatever ravine he had tumbled down. She had complained and scolded. But never left him behind.

During the few months they had spent together last summer, he had seen the same grudging patience in her. Even when she snapped. Even when she rolled her eyes. She always found him in the room. Always made sure he was safe.

She had even shed blood for him. Spilling it across the floor like scattered sunlight. He tried to remember what emotion her face had shown in that moment. Anger?

No. Fear.

And then relief, maybe?

“I’ll ask,” Naruto decided. “I should ask,” he said again, nodding to himself.

They sat in the quiet for a long while. The clock tower chimed outside. It was noon.

Winter had come and gone. Everyone was hard at work now that they were no longer trapped indoors by ice and snow. There were fields to till. Fish to catch. The entire city was alive and moving.

But all was still inside the temple.

Hinata clasped her hands in her lap. “Can I provide you any additional guidance?” she asked.

“No. Thank you. I feel a lot better.”

Hinata inclined her head. “I am glad to have been of service. The temple welcomes all to find rest from their troubles,” she replied.

“Oh!” Naruto exclaimed. Hinata jumped a little. Naruto didn’t notice as he turned and began digging in his satchel. He produced a bright yellow flower.

“I almost forgot. I brought something for you,” he announced, gripping the stem in his hand.

Rather than the smile Naruto had expected, Hinata answered with silence.

“Forgive my rudeness, but… I… I cannot accept anything from you. Servants of the temple cannot accept material goods,” she uttered.

“Oh. I mean… it’s… oh.” Because he hadn’t even considered what that must have sounded like to her. How many people must have climbed these steps just to bribe the high priestess for a blessing or some sort of favor?

Naruto fumbled for the right words. He looked around. Took a deep breath. Blew it out. Took in another.

“It’s a flower,” he finally explained.

“A flower?” she repeated.

“I picked it in the garden. Because it was pretty. It’s not worth any money,” Naruto went on.

Hinata’s face went blank.

“Is that… still not allowed?” wondered Naruto.

“I…. thank you. But… I still…” Hinata couldn’t finish her thought. Didn’t really need to.

Naruto stared at the wilting flower in his grasp.

“That’s not your fault. I should’ve thought a little more about this,” he sighed. As he got to his feet, Hinata lifted her chin.

“I truly am grateful,” she insisted.

Naruto put on a smile. For who, he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll come again,” he said.

“Please do.”

Naruto ignored Sai’s questions as he exited the temple. He threw the flower on the street as he strode down the steps. He knew that Sai was commenting about it. But it was easy to block him out.

She had asked him to come back.

That was what mattered more than any of his retainer’s snide remarks.

+++

“It’s been a few months, but Aunt Kurenai says that things are calm back home,” Kankuro skimmed over the message. The paper was in surprisingly good shape for traveling such a long distance.

The seasons meant little in the Viper’s Throat. It was hotter here than it was back in Ebizo’s palace. The last weeks of winter had passed in Baki’s palace with mostly unforgiving, hot days. Now that the calendar’s announced a new season, the temperatures remained unchangingly high.

Prince Baki imported large quantities of ice from the north to store underground. The ice cooled the palace as the air moved up the caverns and into the buildings through large towers. The servants also did their best to keep things comfortable. They ran back and forth chipping off pieces of the ice to scatter into drinks. Azra and Esma kept busy with their large fans any moment they weren’t carrying out another task.

Temari held her hand out. Kankuro leaned over to pass the letter to her. Temari rubbed her knuckles against her chin as she read.

“Do they really have no idea that Lady Sakura has been abroad?” she wondered.

“That was written at least a couple months ago. Perhaps they have noticed by now. They must have at least one brain between all of them,” replied Sakura. She shifted in her seat, crossing and recrossing her legs.

Gaara looked up when the twins entered. Azra set a tray down on the table. It was heavy with sweets and a fresh pot of tea. Esma knelt beside Sakura with a basin filled with towels. Each one had been soaked with fragrant water and rolled into the shape of a different flower. Sakura took one, still speaking.

“How have preparations been going, to your knowledge?” she queried. She unfolded the damp towel and wiped her hands. As the servant moved around the table, each person took a towel. When she reached him, Gaara offered a smile.

“Thank you,” he said.

She lifted her chin to look into his eyes. She looked surprised. As if she had never heard such words before. But then her expression shifted back to the polite smile she always wore. She bowed before she moved on.

When Gaara turned his head, he found Sakura staring at the servant girl. On the windowsill behind her, Suigetsu was staring too. His hands folded together under his chin. When his gaze met Gaara’s, the mercenary smirked.

“Messages travel slowly. I wish I had more updates for you,” Kankuro sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Sakura leaned back in her seat. “I can hardly hold you responsible for that,” she responded.

“The last response I received was when I wrote to Sasori to let him know that you were bringing back plenty of guests. He assured me that they would have a comfortable place to stay on the island,” he recalled. He leaned back on his palms with another sigh.

“Where? Lady Sakura was promised thousands,” asked Temari, examining her nails.

Kankuro ruffled both his hands through his hair. “Don’t ask that right now. My head will explode,” Kankuro groaned.

Temari and Sakura exchanged a look. “Don’t tease him. I don’t have a replacement for him if his head really does explode,” Sakura scolded. Temari laughed.

Sakura pulled her hair off her neck with a sigh. She heard a few murmured words. And then Esma was standing behind her, fanning with all the fury of a soldier charging into battle.

“Oh my, she tries so hard. It’s adorable,” Kankuro remarked, leaning toward the breeze. He blinked when Temari returned the letter to him. Folding it into thirds, he tucked it into his pocket.

“Prince Baki has promised you troops. You have yet to meet them. Aren’t you suspicious, Lady Sakura?” Temari inquired, crossing one leg over the other.

“It would be dishonorable for him to go back on his word. He would not suffer such shame. He will keep his word. I’m confident,” answered Sakura.

They enjoyed glasses of tea filled with ice and mint. They moved on to lighter topics- simple gossip, the weather. Kankuro brought up an old story of how he had once flirted with a woman without realizing she was married. The woman’s irate husband had chased them both through the market. They laughed as they recalled Kankuro’s terror.

As the time passed, the heat of the afternoon sun swelled and then eased. They decided that a walk around the palace would be the perfect way to pass the time before supper. Temari looked over at Kankuro, who had dozed off some time ago. As Temari took a step toward him to shake him awake, Sakura’s voice interrupted her.

“Let him rest. He must be exhausted.”

Rolling her eyes, Temari stepped away from him, moving toward the door instead.

Azra and Esma brought out a shawl. Despite the heat, Sakura draped it over her bare arms and shoulders. She reached back, searching. Gaara slipped his hand into hers. She pulled him forward to match her pace without looking at him.

The stone halls of the palace echoed with their footsteps. The northern wing of the palace was quiet. Visitors were not permitted to roam there without her permission. But once they reached the center of the palace, they could hear voices and music. There was always some kind of performer or visitor to keep the harem occupied.

They passed a tall woman wearing a glimmering gown. She spotted them. Sneered without greeting. And then moved on. She barked something to the servant girls behind her. The girls kept their eyes to the ground, shaking hands folded in front of them. One of them looked like she might be limping.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

She reached a hand out from under her shawl, beckoning. Azra and Esma moved toward her.

“That woman?” asked Sakura, keeping her voice low. The twins’ eyes moved toward the woman’s retreating back.

“That is Concubine Deba, General,” Azra replied in the same half-whisper. She flinched as Concubine Deba snapped at the servants. When one of the girls reached out, the concubine slapped her hands away, her voice growing even more shrill.

“Is that how she always is?” Sakura inquired.

“Always,” Esma confirmed. Sakura’s eyes fell on her. At the tight line her lips made.

“You once served her,” she guessed. Esma’s grimace was answer enough. Azra put her hand on her sister’s arm. She smiled.

“That’s why we’re so grateful to serve you now, General,” Azra added. Esma’s gaze flickered over to her. Then she pursed her lips, nodding as she looked down.

Sakura folded her arms across her chest. She glanced again at the direction the concubine had gone. Then back at the twins.

“Hm,” Sakura said. She looped her arm through Temari’s, pulling her along. They walked slowly.

“What’re you thinking, Lady Sakura?” asked Temari.

“Do you know why people follow a woman like that?” Sakura wondered.

Temari arched an eyebrow. She stole one last glance at the distant back of Concubine Deba. Then looked to Sakura. “Fear, it looks like,” she guessed.

“Do you think that works better than a sense of duty?” Sakura mused.

“I don’t like that look in your eyes, Lady Sakura. It makes me nervous,” Temari sighed, already shaking her head.

That made Sakura smile. Pointer finger on her cheek, she tilted her head to one side.

“I wonder. Should we try a little experiment?”

After supper, Sakura left her quarters alone. Temari looked ready to protest until she spotted Mangetsu waiting by the door. She fixed him with a hard look. The mercenary returned it. Slowly, she nodded at him before she sank back down in her seat.

Mangetsu followed Sakura out of her quarters. They met up with Suigetsu further down the corridor.

Suigetsu pulled his cowl down and coughed. “I’m sick of all this sand,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. And then he turned his frown to Sakura. He coughed again before he spoke. “Also, I don’t get this. I thought you wanted to get to the consort- not this woman.”

Sakura ran her fingers through her hair. She adjusted her collar.

“It’s not about the concubine, Suigetsu. It’s about her servants,” she insisted.

Suigetsu stared at her.

She sighed, impatient. “Who oversees the day-to-day of any palace? Who has access to my food, clothing, and nearly everything else?” she listed. And then she paused, mouth puckering as she thought. “At home, the staff sees to my every need. In Whiteriver Keep… well… you’ve seen it.”

And then she smiled. "I want to see what happens if I can move the hearts of the servants. What would be the result?" she spelled out for him.

Suigetsu held her gaze for a long moment. He sighed.

“One of the girls just left the concubine’s room. Should be coming down that hall soon,” Suigetsu reported, jabbing his thumb in the right direction.

Sakura moved past him, her skirts gathered in one hand so she could move faster. The brothers hung back, watching her.

When Sakura reached the end of the hall, Suigetsu clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. Mangetsu looked over. He watched Suigetsu dig his pinky nail into his ear. He flicked the bits of sand away, bouncing them across the polished marble floors.

“Looks like the lady’s learning something,” Suigetsu commented.

“Good?” Mangetsu wondered, his eyes drifting back to follow Sakura.

“Yeah. Good,” Suigetsu confirmed.

Mangetsu said nothing else. Just slapped his younger brother on the back a few times before he followed after her.

Sakura lingered just before the corner. She barely looked up when the mercenaries joined her. She didn’t need to warn them to stay silent. If anything, they were quieter than she was.

According to Suigetsu, this passageway led to the larger residences within Prince Baki’s harem. This was a service hallway used by the staff. These sorts of places were nice because people’s true characters often emerged when they believed no one was watching them.

“You think you’re better than us because you serve Concubine Deba now?”

There was a sharp slap. And then the sound of something bouncing onto the floor. A few voices laughed, shrill and cutting.

“Little whore thinks she’s tough,” one of them mocked.

And then there was a muffled yelp before another voice hissed: “You’re nothing. Learn your place.”

Sakura’s mouth set in a grim line. She had heard enough.

There were three servant girls gathered around a fourth girl. The fourth sat huddled on the ground, both hands covering her head. The three girls snickered as they shoved her with their feet. But when they looked up, they saw Sakura round the corner, the two mercenaries shadowing her steps.

Sakura pretended to take the scene in.

The three servant girls frozen mid-step. The one girl on the floor, hair disheveled. A basket overturned. Linens scattered.

“How unsightly,” Sakura remarked, hand on her cheek. She locked eyes with one of the girls as she added, “Is this how things are done in this palace?”

One of the girls, clearly the leader of the group, stepped forward.

“Are you lost, dear guest? This area is typically for…”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. The servant girl’s voice faltered. Her words trailed off.

“I don’t recall asking for you to speak. What a foolish child,” Sakura scoffed. She lowered her hand. “I have an idea of what’s happening here. Clean this up,” Sakura then snapped.

The three girls exchanged nervous looks before they scrambled to gather the basket and dump the garments inside. They mumbled apologies to Sakura, bowing their heads. Sakura fixed them with a stare for a long moment before she jerked her chin, dismissing them. They hurried off. As soon as they turned the corner, their footsteps quickened, echoing off the stone walls and floors.

As Sakura turned her attention to the remaining girl, her expression softened.

“Are you alright?” asked Sakura. She held her hand out. The remaining servant girl lifted her head, about to reach out. She jolted when she met Sakura’s eyes. She swiped her sleeve across her face before she put on a smile.

“I beg pardon, Your Grace. How can I serve you?” she said. She sniffled. There was a scratch mark on her cheek.

“Well, before you serve anyone, can you stand?” Sakura asked. She moved her hand a little closer.

The girl stared at the offered hand. Her gaze flickered to the basket. Then to her ankle.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she slipped her hand into Sakura’s. She winced a little when Sakura helped her stand.

“I apologize for this scene, Your Grace. It truly is disgraceful for us to have shown an honored guest such a sight,” the girl then said, bowing. Her hands clenched into the fabric of her skirt.

Sakura studied the girl’s shaking hands. Then her eyes drifted up to her face.

“What is your name?” Sakura asked.

The girl peered up at her through flaxen hair.

“It’s Meno, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Meno,” Sakura repeated. The girl nodded.

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while, Meno?”

While it was worded like a suggestion, it wasn’t. The girl must have been smart enough to know that. She hesitated for just a moment. And then she bowed again.

Meno trailed behind Sakura as they made her way to the other wing of the palace. Meno cast nervous looks at Mangetsu, who walked near Sakura, and Suigetsu, who trailed behind them.

“Your hair is a unique color,” Sakura commented. She kept her eyes focused ahead. Meno started a little. She touched her golden hair, gathered her hands in front of her again.

“…Yes, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Are you foreign-born?” Sakura queried.

“No, Your Grace. My father was a traveler,” answered Meno.

“Oh, so you’re mixed,” Sakura guessed.

Meno hung her head.

Sakura sniffed. “With the number of foreign-born concubines Prince Baki has, I would assume that a little mixing would be more than welcome here,” Sakura observed. She glanced back at Meno. “Or is that a privilege reserved just for the nobility?”

Meno’s eyes widened.

Soon, they arrived at Sakura’s quarters. Servants pulled the doors open at their approach.

“Azra. Esma,” Sakura called as they walked inside.

The twins came running. Azra helped her unwrap her shawl. Ezra presented a pair of soft slippers. But both girls froze when they noticed Meno lingering in the doorway.

Sakura followed their gaze. She gave an absent-minded wave of her hand.

“Prepare some refreshments for my guest,” ordered Sakura.

There was a slight pause as the twins exchanged a look. And then they both answered: “Yes, General.”

Several minutes later, they sat in the parlor. Sakura crossed one knee over the other, arm draped over the back of the sofa. She nodded as the twins set a tray down on the low table. Steam curled up from the teapot.

“Oh, Your Grace, I couldn’t accept this,” Meno sputtered as she looked at the tea. Her hands curled into the fabric of her apron.

Sakura stared at the tea too. The corners of her mouth turned down. “Indeed. You couldn’t,” she agreed. Her stare flitted over to the two attendants.

“The day is hot. You serve tea on such a hot day without ice?” Sakura scolded. The twins hung their heads as they listened. But then Azra raised her head.

“Your Grace, ice is only reserved for guests of honor-” she protested.

“Which I am. And this girl is my guest,” Sakura interrupted. She released a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. And then she flapped a hand at them.

“Go. Remake it,” Sakura ordered.

Azra and Esma exchanged a wary look. They bowed.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Azra said before they hurried out the door.

As Sakura refocused her gaze on Meno, she found the girl staring right back at her. Folding her arms across her chest, Sakura raised her eyebrows.

“The harassment. Has it been going on for long?” inquired Sakura.

Meno’s hand rose to touch her swollen cheek.

“No, Your Grace. I must have tripped,” the girl insisted.

“What strange floors they have here. They rise up to strike the faces of pretty, young girls,” Sakura mused.

When Meno just stared at her, Sakura offered her a smile.

“I’ve been in a fight or two. You don’t need to lie to me,” she added.

Meno flushed.

By the time Azra and Esma returned with cool drinks, Meno was in tears as she divulged her life story. She sobbed into the handkerchief she pulled from her pocket as she recounted the bullying. There was a strict hierarchy among the staff. Those that served the higher ranking concubines were above the lesser ones. And the older servants could make life hell for the younger, weaker ones.

“But you serve a high-ranking woman. You can’t be so awful at your job?” wondered Sakura.

Meno shook her head. She dabbed her cheeks with the sopping handkerchief. Temari moved from the window. Kankuro held out his own handkerchief as she walked past. Temari grabbed it and sat beside the girl. She gave her the clean handkerchief and patted her on the back. Meno gave her a tremulous smile before fresh tears leaked out of her eyes.

“It matters little, Your Grace. They hate me so much, but I try so hard. I just don’t understand,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

“This can’t be right,” Sakura sighed, hand on her cheek again. “Who is in charge of all the servants? There has to be some sort of administrator.”

At this, Meno hesitated. She looked to Sakura. Then her gaze drifted to the twin girls standing behind Sakura. Sakura turned in her seat to glance at them too. The girls bowed.

“Are you concerned that someone in this room will report you, Meno?” Sakura demanded, facing forward again.

Meno rubbed her eyes. She looked down at her knees.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. She relaxed her arms.

“Rest assured, Meno, should anyone take issue with what you say here today… I will take responsibility,” she declared. And then she tossed another glance over her shoulder. “You have my word,” Sakura then added.

Meno sniffled. Temari patted her back again.

Twisting the handkerchief between her hands, Meno bit her lower lip. “Oh…. um…. well, Consort Hoki is, Your Grace,” she finally confessed.

Sakura touched her pointer finger to her cheek. Her thumb pressed against her chin. She tilted her head to one side as she thought.

“Unfortunately, I have yet to meet Consort Hoki myself. I wonder what her thoughts on this sort of working environment are,” she sighed. Her eyes darted up when she noticed Mangetsu cross his arms. He met her gaze, gave a slight nod. She pretended not to have seen it. Smiling, she turned her attention to Meno.

“No matter. I’m certain Consort Hoki has worries of her own,” she added.

Sakura took a deep breath before she declared: “I like you, Meno. Why don’t you come work for me?”

Meno’s eyes widened. Her hands tightened around the handkerchiefs.

“Truly, Your Grace? Can I?” she blurted out. Her face turned red as she realized what she had said. She sunk back in her seat, looking down at her feet.

Sakura’s expression warmed. “You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. I shall speak with Prince Baki about adding you to my service,” Sakura replied. When she glanced back, Azra and Esma’s faces revealed nothing. Sakura gestured to the twins. “I’ve been working poor Azra and Esma to the bone lately. I’m certain it will be a relief to them as well.”

They finished their tea, Meno still sniffling. Sakura asked her a few more questions about her life, which Meno was more than happy to answer. By the time their cups and plates were empty, Meno’s face was swollen, but significantly more cheerful. Azra and Esma collected the tableware and left the room.

As she got to her feet, Meno bowed and thanked Sakura over and over again.

“Make sure Meno returns to her quarters safely. And pass this message along to the Prince,” Sakura instructed, pressing a note into Mangetsu’s hand. He nodded. Mangetsu then held the door open for Meno.

Sakura waved at the girl, smiling as she watched her go. But as soon as Meno turned the corner, Sakura lowered her hand. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Are you sure about this?” she whispered.

Suigetsu braced his forearm on the doorway. He craned his neck to peer past her before he spoke.

“The twins reacted when you talked about Consort Hoki. They’re likely her spies,” he replied, keeping his voice just as low. And then he stared at Sakura. “But you already knew that. I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

Sakura raised her eyebrows. “I suspected. That’s different,” she corrected.

“So why bring that girl? It’ll raise more suspicion to replace them, M’Lady,” warned Suigetsu. He peered up and down the hall again. His gaze fell to Sakura again when he felt her grab the sleeve of his shirt.

She smiled. “My Aunt has always loved chess. And she taught me to love it too. But don’t you think it’s more fun when the pieces are alive?” she murmured before she released his sleeve. She stepped back into her quarters. Suigetsu stared after her. And then he broke into a grin.

“I knew it would be fun to stick with you, M’Lady,” he chuckled as he followed after her.

Later that evening, Sakura lay on her back.

Everyone else had gone to bed. Temari was in the room next to her’s. Gaara and Kankuro shared another one further down the hall. Gaara still had nightmares, and Kankuro liked to be there just in case.

Suigetsu had gone to bed too. Mangetsu would wake him halfway through the night to switch shifts. But for now, he prowled around the wing. There were guards on duty, but neither of the brothers trusted them. Every once in a while, his shadow slid under the door as he walked past. At first, his movements had jolted her awake. She wasn’t used to someone keeping such close watch. But after a few months, she was starting to find their presence comforting. Sometimes she even slept through the entire night undisturbed.

But this night, Sakura wasn’t sleeping. Instead, she was staring up at the ceiling. There were thousands of stars painted in gold, mimicking the patterns of the heavens outside.

With what almost felt like a stab of guilt, she suddenly recalled a face. Not as if she had ever forgotten him. But he drifted to the front of her mind.

The plan had been to make a connection with Sasuke. The Mountain Kingdom was a powerful ally to have. With the political instability that had weakened the Forest Kingdom, its neighbors seemed unsure of how to approach them. In times of crises, it was important to know how other countries would react. Would they stand back and watch? Would they seize a moment of weakness to attack?

She had made it her mission to ingratiate herself with Sasuke. It had been easier than expected. Because under that pomposity, which was all a facade anyway, he was rather intelligent and even funny.

Prince Itachi of the Mountain Kingdom was an unexpected boon.

She saw his wrist. The beautiful jut of his bone. The shape of his fingers as they curled around the doorknob. She liked watching those hands. Elegant in their own way. They were smooth and soft, unlike hers. And she knew because she could remember the way it felt against hers as they sat in the shade of a pergola.

Sakura closed her eyes.

Her whole life, she had learned to calculate each relationship. What did they have to offer? What would they ask for in return?

Even her friendships were all weighed this way. Ino, one of her oldest friends, had gone through this evaluation as well. And Sakura was confident that Ino had done the same to her. That didn’t change the fact that she liked Ino- preferred her company to that of most people she knew.

Ally. Eyes and ears. Bargaining chip. Scapegoat.

They all stacked so neatly. Like pieces she could line up on her game board.

But what was Prince Itachi of the Mountain Kingdom?

A prince with no support from his subjects. One whose own stepmother crippled with poison. Whose father remained either oblivious or uncaring. She already had the support of his brother, who had the best bid for the throne.

What purpose did he serve then?

“You look anxious. Are you alright?”

What did he have to offer?

“I wish I knew how to help.”

What would he ask for in return?

“You’ve always looked like a giant to me.”

She thought of Consort Hoki. Today’s events had made it clear to Sakura that she was a consort in name. But she had little influence over the workings of the harem. From a good family. But rendered powerless because not all the right pieces had fallen into place.

She dreaded falling victim to a similar fate. It was more important now than ever that she surround herself with people of worth. Those that would move when she could not. Those that she could rely on to redirect blame should things go wrong.

As all these questions swirled together in her head, she remembered the short letter he had sent months ago. Black ink. Perfect penmanship.

I miss you terribly today. All is well. And yet nothing is well without you here.

The following morning, Sakura set her teacup down.

She graced her companion with a smile.

“Prince Baki, thank you for making the time to see me,” Sakura greeted him.

++++

< Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 >

#amaryllis #fanfiction #itasaku #courtly intrigue! au

36 notes · View notes

plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety · 5 years ago

Text

Crappy Shigshou au thing

Word Count: 2k (Will be up on my ao3 Freakinout16 tomorrow.)

Thank you for giving me permission to post @todorokitops I asked on anon. If you read this idk what you ment by respond to you, but I hope this is okay!!!

(Last thing I promise.) I'm running off of really slow data for this (won't be able to get Wi-Fi for 3 more weeks) and haven't been able to see parts 5 & 6. I'm pretty sure it becomes Dekushigshou, but this will be taking place before part 5.

Dust filled everywhere, it made sense because it was his quirk, but it felt like it clouded his head. Shigaraki had a vague memory that he had been with the league, but had gotten split up. The city block he drearily recognized. A cafe and a couple stores with an apartment complex a little down the street. They were crumbled - still crumbling - to make the area look like an apocalypse zone.

A shrill yelp pierced silence and cut off within seconds.

Shigaraki’s movements became frantic. That sounded too much like Todoroki; his Todoroki. Had his Shouto been with them, he was a villain with them but, he doesn’t even remember why they were in this situation. He tried to run to the scream, tried to scream himself, tripping over chunks of past buildings and general reccage. His legs felt so sluggish, like he was trying to run through a swamp, almost a sinking feeling. Was it the dusty air?

The telltale sign of white and red made his heart soar. Then drop as he noticed it was much closer than it should be. It only dropped more as Shigaraki squinted through the dust to see a fallen light pole just under the multicolored hair.

The bluette’s breath hitched and soon he was running, but not feeling like he was getting any closer. In the back of his mind he hoped that for some reason it was only a stupid red and white rag. Though the heterochromia he could have sworn he saw when he squinted pushed that idea further every time he thought of that possibility.

An invisible god was almost pulling Shigaraki back. Not by the shirt collar, but as if the decintegrater’s spine had been ripped out in the middle, only to be used as a whip to beat him down afterwards. His hands and arms were a blur of black and pale tan as he moved them to desperately get the stars and blotches out of his vision.

It felt like hours passed before Shigaraki collapsed in front of Todoroki. Without looking down he intertwined his and his disciples hands. The split-quirk user was in a sorry state. His shoulder looked like Shigaraki own when he had his fight with Stain, and his legs were definitely crushed under the light pole. The old scar was reopened with only frostbitten skin and ice keeping it from fully coming off. It didn’t fit him, he didn't even like it when Dabi’s scars opened, Todoroki’s freeze burn had never opened and it never should.

“No, no, no! This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re supposed to follow me around with those damn puppy dog eyes that I melt under. You’re supposed to call me Shishou and ask me to do stuff no one else can while Dabi calls me whipped. You’re supposed to-”

“I always wanted to hold your hand properly, Shishou.”

“...What?”

It took Todoroki´s eyes to weekly drop to see what that meant.

Todoroki´s hand was cracked. No, it was decaying.

Shigaraki twitched trying to pull his hands away, only for them to be stuck like glue. When did he take his gloves off? “You can decay bigger things much faster. You’re getting better at controlling your quirk, Shishou.”

“Don’t you dare fucking compliment me right now.” Todoroki coughed up dust, dust that Shigaraki shakingly noticed that should be organs in his body. “You’re going to be okay, you’re not dying on me so don’t act like it.” A choked sob was present in his scratchy voice.

The dust Todoroki coughed up was dust from the air. The dust in the air from the buildings, not Todoroki’s dust because Todoroki was explicitly not dusting.

Shigaraki managed to get his right hand away only for Todoroki’s left to come off with it. That’s all it took for his left to become limp and his lover’s entire arm to crumble over it. How had he been such an idiot to not hear the cracking sounds before he saw it?

“Didn’t you sometimes tell me to die? Isn’t this better?”

“I said that playfully!” The taste of salty tears infected his chapped lips, “I need you to stay here with me.” One hand hooked around his own shirt collar while the other tore at the sides of the scarred neck. Silent pleases moved the chapped lips.

Todoroki hacked up blood and dust into the older man’s face. The blood splattered across his cheeks with some sinking down, fittingly mixing with his own peeking out of his neck, and dust stung his eyes. The younger male’s rib cage began to collapse in on itself from the right side. Shigaraki’s vision blurred from dust and tears failed to catch it. The other’s obsession for turtlenecks wouldn’t even let him see the full extent of the damage.

As a last ditch effort the teal haired villain grappled for Todoroki's head. The pinky finger curled and hand stretching for the back of the multicolored boy’s head. If nothing else he wanted to hold him close and wait until someone else arrives. To have their head on each other’s shoulders as they wait until Kurogiri or someone else arrives. Right now he wouldn’t care if it was a hero. As long as Todoroki would be safe.

The others would have a car; they’d bring them to safety and have Todoroki healed. He might not know how, but everything was going to. work out.

A flourish of dandelion seed fluff erupted when Shigaraki’s hand made contact. They flew into the pale blue hair and got everywhere. The hand going for Todoroki’s nape hovered in front of where his lover's nose should be. The red white hair and top of skull disintegrated before gravity could bring it down. A teasing breeze blew the new dust away, like trying to steal still more of Todoroki away from him.

With a finger down, Shigaraki drew a line through his boyfriend’s head.

The turtleneck no longer could hold away the sight of the quirk’s effects. The wanted criminal only watched as the cracking from decay crawled up. Chunks of jaw fell off like Jenga blocks and some cruel twist of fate still lifting it up. What didn’t he obtain the absolute pleasure of seeing his own quirk moving up the jaw then the teeth. Molars slipping into a fine powdered dust at the top. The exceptionally slow dusted the interior first, starting with the tongue.

Then a chunk that could hardly be described anymore as an Adam’s Apple sank into his lap.

Hyperventilating, shaking, tear soaked face with more, sweating, and… blankets? It took his eyes a moment to adjust and realize he was on a mattress in his bedroom. In blaring red his clock displayed 1:38 am. His mind was running to keep up to a body flailing to try and find another body laying next to him.

Todoroki wasn’t next to him. Is what’s going on a hallucination? Shigaraki killed Todoroki. That couldn’t have been just a dream.

Shigaraki rolled off the bed, hitting his head a little harder than he would have liked. Then he tried to get to the door. The piles of clothes and the I’ll do it tomorrow’s stacked up against him in his haste.

It was okay until he got to the stairs. Shigaraki tried to take a step and all too fast he was falling.

Suddenly he was frozen. Not like time stopped, but his entire body felt enraptured in ice and his head hit it off something. Stars exploded in his sight, it became a struggle to keep his eyes open. He gave in and just let his eyelids drop.

It took a minute for Shigaraki’s vision to clear again. Only to be met with real sparks and the air around him suddenly getting a lot hotter. It was unfair with how hot and sweaty his body already was.

In a matter of seconds he was falling again only to be caught. He was being lifted up and directed over to a couch. Shigaraki tried to shove them off, he was Japan’s most dangerous villain, he didn’t want to be seen like this. He nearly slipped out of his holder’s grasp when he looked up to see a pair of worried blue and grey eyes.

Instantly Shigaraki melted. His knees buckled as he tried to stand up properly while the tears started anew. Again Todoroki started maneuvering the older man, with much less difficulty this time, towards the couch. Shigaraki stumbled trying to move his feet along to the pace.

Todoroki gingerly lowered Shigaraki onto the couch. There were questions he wanted to ask, but he could tell that wasn’t what Shigaraki needed right now. He used his hand to brush away a few locks of messy blue hair. He leaned up and turned around to go back to what he was doing.

“It hurts to cry.” Shigaraki’s voice grated even more than normal.

“Not usually. That’s because you don’t drink as much water as I tell you to.” Todoroki tried to suppress a flinch when Shigaraki latched a hand onto his shirt. The last thing he wished right now was for Shigaraki to think he was afraid of him.

“What’s that gross smell?”

Todoroki didn’t even attempt to force down a cringe before he turned around, “It was soup for you. It burnt and I was about to try and remake it.”

“How the fuck do you even burn soup?”

Todoroki chuckled before sitting down as well. When Shigaraki curled into his side Todoroki chose not to mention it. “I think I had a nightmare. It was weird and confusing like some dumb fever dream.”

“That’s because you do have a fever.” Todoroki said, adjusting so his boyfriend could easily look at his face. That showed him how sweaty his boyfriend actually was. Slowly he pressed his right hand to Shigaraki’s forehead and activated his quirk. “Would you tell me about it, Shishou?”

“No.”

“Please?” To Shigaraki’s misfortune, that was the moment he chose to look at Todoroki clearly. The puppy-dog eyes were on full force and it was only milliseconds till he saw the ears and tail forming.

“Fine.” He meant it as a yell, but it came out more as a grumble. He chose to bury his face in Todoroki’s chest to ignore the taller boy’s small smile, “It looked like it was after a fight and I was alone. I heard you, but it was only you screaming.”

Todoroki started rubbing small circles into the other’s back, as if urging him to continue, “I got to you and grabbed your hands, but-”

“You disintegrated me.” It wasn’t even a question. Shigaraki has had nightmares about this before.

Todoroki violently resisted the urge to lay his chin on the blue haired man’s head.The chance was lost though when Shigaraki pushed himself to the other side of the couch. Shigaraki moving his hands into his lap was not lost on Todoroki.

Almost cautiously the fire and ice user reached for his hands, grabbing them around the wrists. No resistance happened as the hands were lifted in front of their faces. With his thumbs he rubbed the thin gloves partially covering pale skin. “What are these?”

“My hands.”

“Try again.”

“Gloves?”

He gave a nod of approval. It made Shigaraki feel like he was staring at a dangerous predator.

“Now, what do they stop from happening?”

“They stop my quirk from working.”

A sigh. The hands let go and the disintegrators fell into his lap again. “They stop you from disintegrating things while you’re wearing them, including me. What you dreamt was only your imagination.”

For some reason that made him feel better. Maybe there was a little voice telling him that it was stupid for him to be comforted at 2am and that he wasn’t supposed to be treated like this, but maybe, just this once, he wouldn’t listen to that voice.

#I GOT IT OUT BEFORE 10!!!!!!!#It's like 9 but oh well #I wrote this in a rush and I'm sure I messed so much uo #*up #shigshou #my hero academia #mha #boko no hero academia #bnha #shigaraki x Todoroki #shigaraki tomura #todoroki shouto #lol it's 9:55 now #plz writes

54 notes · View notes

tsarinastorm · 4 years ago

Text

Until Somebody Stops Having Fun-Adam Sackler/Reader-Part 3

Adam’s tongue explores your mouth as his hands grip your hips, though one soon slides down and around to slap your ass. You wiggle into him in response. You kiss a path down his neck to his collarbones and you become aware of his cock, now hardened, bumping into your stomach. When you lift your face to look at him, in one quick motion he’s pressing you against the wall of the shower with his mouth on yours, and his hips grinding into you. As he moves down your neck, he sucks a love bite on your pulse point, and when you slap him to punish him, he just says, “Now everyone will know you’re mine. I just couldn’t let you shower by yourself.”

“Oh I am sure you had completely pure intentions.” You tease and he responds against your chest as his head moves down your body, “Hmmm…well maybe I just wanted to fuck you in here too.”

Then his lips are kissing your tits as his tongue draws line on your right one. His hand squeezes and kneads your left breast. He knows how to work your body like a master. He’s only touching your tits and you’re practically writhing under hands. His lips find your nipple and rolls his tongue over it before sucking lightly. Then, he kisses down your stomach then stops before getting to your mound. The anticipation is killing you, and he further adds to it by kneeling in front of you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. Your hands go straight to hair like always, and kisses the inside of your thigh then agonizingly slowly rolling your labia between his lips.

You’re not in a patient mood so you begin bucking your hips against him. His hands snake around your waist to hold you in place. You groan in frustration and he seems to enjoy your torture because he looks at you and says, “Is something wrong, doll?”

“You know exactly what is wrong, asshat.” He smirks at you then nuzzles in against your clit but he doesn’t add any pressure. You try to not to think about how much water you’re wasting and when you’re thinking he’s not to give into you his tongue on your clit. His tongue draws circle on your nub, strokes it up and down, then left to right. Then, he thrusts two of his wide fingers in your entrance and sucks on your clit at the same time. It only takes seconds of that until your orgasm builds and washes over you. You moan as your legs get shaky and euphoria go through you. Adam then stands and tells you, “Good thing you’re in the shower, you’re a dirty whore for my cock.”

You reach down to stroke him, and run your thumb over his sensitive tip. Fuck you need him inside now. You tell him, “I am a dirty whore only for your cock. I can’t stop thinking about good it will feel inside of me.”

“I knew you wanted my cock from the moment I met you,” he says as his hands removes yours and he moves over you. Your back is flush against the shower wall and you hike your left leg up on the side of the tub to give him access. He takes the hint, burying his face in your neck as he buries his cock in your pussy. You’ll never get over the feeling of how he feels inside of you: always stretching you. He rocks into you slowly and as his blackened eyes meet yours he barks out,

“So fucking tight. Like a fucking virgin cunt, squeezing my cock.” Adam picks up the pace, building a rhythm. You wrap your arms onto his shoulders and move your leg from the edge of the tub to hitch it around his waist. Deciding to goad him on, you say, “Well maybe you need to fuck me harder.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you, you dirty slut,” he says as he drills into even harder and faster. The position and the intensity is sending shocks through your clit. He continues the brutal pace but you can tell from the way he’s moaning that he’s getting closer to cumming.

“I fuck you every day and still your cunt is tight,” he continues spewing, but you don’t respond, instead you take your right hand to your clit. While your right hand vigorously rubs circles on your clit, your left hand digs your nails into Adam’s back. Your orgasm rocks through you, and spurs on Adam’s. He pulls out and quickly beats his cock and cums with a long moan, leaving strings of cum on your chest.

He’s grinning like a little kid, then he rushes ahead of you to get back under the water. You shout, “That’s not fair! I can’t go around with your cum on me all day!”

“Why not? I think it looks good on you,” He lets out a hearty laugh.

Soon he subsides and lets you finish washing yourself off. Once you’re semi dressed and getting ready to go, he hands you a cup of coffee made to your preference. Then, he hands you a boxed pastry from a bakery. You raise your eyebrows inquisitively at him and are about to ask where he got it from when he starts rambling.

“I got it for you yesterday since I knew you’d probably stay the night. I wanted you to have something you like for breakfast.” He admits and he looks shyer than you’ve ever seen him before. It’s adorable and flattering that he put thought into it, and was thinking about your comfort. He was too sweet, too good for you. You reach up to put your arm around his torso and give him a peck on the cheek. He settles into the chair and you can’t resist going over to sit on his lap.

The two are supposed to be just friends with benefits but this feels particularly intimate. It feels right, as if the two of you are supposed to be settled into this domestic routine. Right on cue, he nuzzles into your neck, and you run your hands through his hair and nuzzle him back. You’re such a goner, but you know relationships never work and you’d wind up heartbroken again. As you eat your pastry and drink your coffee, you notice that he’s only eating a banana, you know he’s a picky eater but you can’t help but comment.

“I guarantee that I am enjoying my breakfast more, is that all you eat?” You tease and he responds with, “Better than all of that added sugar and fats in that. That’s bad shit to put in your body.”

Not sure what to make of that comment, you gather your things and head out of the day. You had struggled with an eating disorder in various degrees of severity since you were a teenager. It was at its peak during your undergrad years and you’re lucky that you were able to get treatment and recover. But it was still a daily struggle and you could be triggered by random things that no one else would think about. You could never weigh yourself because that was a trigger and you were able to fight the urges with regular exercise and a semi-healthy diet. Of course, you still had your weekly therapy appointments. Adam didn’t know any of this, you had kept it from him because it was hard to talk about.

You know that Adam didn’t mean anything by his comments but your eating disorder brain was misinterpreting it. Your mind started reeling thinking of a way to counteract the calories from breakfast. You continue on your day with your mind racing.

***

You had shut off your phone and not responded to any messages. Now, you had an outrageous number of voicemails and texts from Adam wanting to check on you. You were busy with work and your anorexia was slowly creeping back again. You had been spending twice as much time exercising and had drastically cut back your total calories. What you’d forgot was how it felt in your brain: a mixture of exhaustion and being ultra-focused. It was a strange mix and you liked to shut yourself off when it happened.

It had only been three days since the incident with Adam and you were surprised that he hadn’t showed up at your apartment to check in on you. You were both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because you were in over your head for Adam and thought he cared for you too. But relieved because then you wouldn’t have to tell him about your past mental health struggles.

Walking into your apartment, Benji and Barney greet you, ready for their walk. You take them for a walk that’s double the usual, and when you’re almost back to your apartment, you hear a voice calling your name.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you turn around to see Adam running towards you. Of course, your dogs were happy to see him with their tails wagging, they begin their infamous beagle howls. Adam stops when he’s standing right in front of you, he places his hands on your shoulders and looks frantic.

“What the hell is going on?! I haven’t heard from you at all for days. I thought you fucking died, kid.”

“I’ve been busy.” You say, now feeling embarrassed. You decide to keep walking and he easily catches up with you, damn his long legs. He asks, “You’ve been busy? You know I can tell that’s a fucking lie.”

This time you don’t respond, instead you head into your apartment and Adam’s still following you. Once inside your apartment, Adam pauses to look you over before saying, “You look like shit. Are you going to tell me what’s really going?”

Apparently, you’re not as tough as you think you are because you melt into him. At first he’s surprised then he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He scoops you up and takes you to your bedroom. After you’re settled into your bed, Adam joins you, lying with his face facing yours.

“What’s wrong?” You take a deep inhale then you start to tell him everything, about your past eating disorder, how you still struggle with it. You told him about your triggers and how you’ve gone back to your old habits over the past few days.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks as he runs his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm. His eyes never leave yours, but you desperately look away as you tell him, “I was afraid you’d look at me different. You’d think I was fragile flower or something. And it’s hard to talk about.”

You fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit that you can’t seem to shake. Adam places his hands over yours and you can his warmth washing over you. The man was like a giant heated blanket. Then, he moves his hand to cup your cheek, and he says, “There’s nothing that can make me think less of you.”

He then punctuates his next sentence with kisses on your face in between each word, “You. Are. Absolutely. Perfect.” You then can’t resist pulling him in for a deep, searing kiss.

******

The morning after Adam showed up to check up on you and you told him about your past, he left after breakfast, like normal. Everything seemed fine and normal, you felt more connected to Adam than ever before. But clearly things weren’t as they seemed because you hadn’t seen or heard from Adam since. You blame yourself and your troubled past for scaring him away, but now you were determined to get some kind of answer.

You make the trek over to his apartment, thinking of a thousand different things to say to him, but you’re unable to settle on one. Rushing up the stairs, you almost don’t notice the blonde woman coming down them until you nearly bump into her. Your face goes hot and you feel your heart fall when you realize who she is: Jessa, the Jessa. She’s leaving Adam’s apartment looking disheveled, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what she was just doing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t stay to talk to you, she continues on her way and you go yours. Pausing outside Adam’s door for a moment, you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Adam answers the door in his black briefs and it takes you a moment to get your mind back to coherent thoughts.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He lets you inside his apartment and you try to play cool by answering, “Well I didn’t hear from you for a while and wanted to check in on you.”

“I’ve been busy…” He says and you can tell he’s either flat-out lying to you badly or he’s trying to piss you off. Well he’s succeeded in the second option. You shout, “I saw Jessa leaving when I was coming up here! You must have been really busy.”

You put emphasis on the word “busy” so he knows that you’re not buying his line of bullshit today. Adam’s not bothered by your annoyance because he just sits down on his yellow sofa and looks at you like you’ve gone totally mad. You ask, “Are you even going to try to explain yourself?”

“I don’t know why you’re so mad. You have made it abundantly clear that we’re just fuck buddies.” He states in an even voice. You’re too dumbfounded by his answer to respond. He, however, continues, “These things have an expiration date. Six months or until somebody stops having fun.”

“If that’s really how you feel then I guess this has expired.” You say and your instincts to flee overtake and you bolt out of his apartment. You hear him say your name and hear his footsteps heavy behind you. He catches up with you and gently grabs your arm, but you pull it back vigorously. You tell him, “Let me go!”

Adam reluctantly obeys your command and you get the hell out of there. Once back inside your apartment, you find yourself unable to fight back the sobs. You’d kept things casual because you didn’t want to get hurt, but apparently you’d left them too casual and now you’re still heartbroken.

*******

The room was well-lit, with works of art lining the walls. You don’t know why you came to this exhibit, you hadn’t been feeling like yourself since things had ended between you and Adam. You supposed you came here to get out of your own head for a while, and try to move on. Things were going as well as could be expected until you saw Adam standing over by one of the exhibits talking to a pretty blonde woman.

Adam sees you and the two of you make eye contact that last longer than necessary. Maybe you had lost your damn mind, maybe you just wanted to be hurt, but you walked over to him. He greets you and the woman smiles at you. Adam introduces the two of you, “Y/N, this is Mimi-Rose. Mimi-Rose, this is Y.N”

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you,” Mimi-Rose tells you. Then it clicks in your mind that she’s one of his exes, the one in between Hannah and Jessa. If you recall correctly, she’s the one who got back together with her ex right in front of Adam. You smile and say, “I’ve heard a lot about you too. I didn’t know you two still talked.”

“We ran into each this week and she invited me here so here I am,” Adam answers swiftly, clearly feeling awkward in this situation. You and Adam are staring each other down, there’s still so much unsaid between the two of you. It must have been obvious enough that Mimi-Rose notices it, and she quickly excuses herself from the conversation.

Soon, you and Adam are heading towards the door together. The two of you wander in silence until you’re at some kind of park. Then it’s Adam who breaks the silence, and he has a lot to say:

“Y/N, I don’t know what you want from me. I try to come over and just fuck you but I can’t and you seem to like it when it’s more. Then when I try to be really sweet and romantic with you, you brush me off, and push me away! You want me to just fuck you some of the time, then you want me to sweet with you some of the time, and I never know what you want!” His hands are moving and he looks like he wants to punch something. You’re shocked that he’s blaming this on you when he’s been blurring the lines the whole time, and he’s the one that went back to Jessa.

“I push you away?! You tell me that we’re just fucking, then you try to be all sweet and act like you want more, then you fall off the face of the earth and I don’t see you or hear from you for days! Then, I find out that you fucked Jessa after I thought you actually gave a damn about me!” You scream back at him. You’re so frustrated, you feel like your body is shaking. Adam is surprised by your answer, he throws his hands up in the air.

“What?! I was with you every night after my show, in the morning, no matter how I felt because I wanted to be with you, wanted to fuck you, wanted to wake up with you.” He says and you’re distracted both by his confession and how his eyes somehow look brighter in the night. You miss him badly, and you want to let go, to fling yourself in his arms but you’re still afraid.

“Adam, what do you really want from me? Do you really know me, know how fucked up I am?” You ask and he takes a step closer, putting his hands lightly on your waist. His touch still gives you butterflies. His right hand moves up to cup your cheek as he answers your question, “Yes I want to know all about you and have you know me! Why can’t you just talk about your feelings?”

“What’s the point? You’ll say you want this now, then in a few months you’ll move on to someone else!” You move out of his embrace and distance yourself from him. You can’t even look at him after saying that, you know it’s insane. He moves away from you too and starts walking back towards the street.

“Jesus fucking Christ! I’ve been with you almost every day for six months, yet you think I’ll just go to the next pussy I see,” He says, not even bothering to look back at you. You start following him even though your head is screaming for you to let him go. He then looks at his phone, desperately trying to figure something out because he’s cursing under his breath. He then announces, “I’m getting an Uber or whatever the fuck it’s called.”

You realize have two options: let Adam go and lose what you feel for him, or take the plunge. You choose the second option and rush over to him, he turns around to look at you. You place your hands flat on his chest as you say, “You wanna know how I feel? I feel like I’m burning but in the best way…”

He interrupts your statement with a kiss. You forgot how soft his lips were how right they felt against yours. When you’re both out of breath and pull away, he’s looking at you reverently. You smile as you ask, “Adam do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

Adam nods his head yes and kisses you again.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler smut #adam driver #hbo girls #reader insert

23 notes · View notes

thadelightfulone · 5 years ago

Text

The Firm - Chapter 11

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Summary: Erik has been hired to find an embezzler for an old friend. The whole gang is back at GBI, ready to fight an old enemy and save their friend.

Pairing: Erik x Black!OC

Genre: Suspense

A/N: *steps up to the mic* Hello everyone! I want to thank everyone who has supported this story. Also, to let you know that this story is coming to a close. I will be dropping a chapter each week until its conclusion.

LaNyah stares at the older women whose hair is much longer and darker than when she helped her out in the parking lot, however long ago that was. Then she looks over at Laura, who is rocking back and forth, whimpering about not wanting to die. Why would she even ask such a thing? What does Laura know about this woman that LaNyah doesn’t? How does she know her? Did Gina say before her friends arrive? Does she mean Alex, Ashley, Stacey, and Erik? LaNyah tries to hold back her smile and closes her eyes to focus on keeping calm while this lady begins her tale.

Gina sitting in the center of the couch, looks between the two stunned women. “As I was saying, this story took place almost 20 years ago. There was a decorated officer who had a loving wife and kids.” She swoons at the memory of her loving brother. “He was the leader of a special ops team until an unjust allegation was brought against him by a team member. Someone he trusted and chose to be on his squad,” Gina snarls out. “He was under investigation during his last mission, and it would have led to a court-martial.” She rushes out before waving her hands in the air like it didn’t matter, “Anyway, before that could happen, members of his team took matters into their own hands. He was brutally murdered, and someone made it to look like an enemy ambush.”

“How do you know that it wasn’t?” Laura asks from beside her.

Gina taps Laura’s upper leg, “Oh dear, it was too perfect. The killing was too clean, everyone’s story was just so– in sync. Nothing about a military death is like that unless it is a cover-up.”

“Maybe, they were trying to spare the family’s feelings, you know, like friendly fire in combat or something?” LaNyah interjected.

“SHUT UP!!!” Gina shouts, startling both Laura and LaNyah. She takes a few deep breathes and smooths out her skirt, “It was not that. My twin brother was callously killed while overseas by members of the team he built.” LaNyah and Laura share a look, and Laura starts crying all over again.

“What does that have to do with us?” LaNyah somberly asks while staring at the crying pregnant woman over Gina.

Sniffling, Laura nods at LaNyah, “Yeah, I don’t know anyone in the military.”

LaNyah looks away, putting her head down at what Laura said because she knows that is not true for her. She only knew of one person until a few weeks ago. Gina can’t mean any of them, right? She inhales sharply, unaware that Gina has been watching her intently since Laura made that last statement, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

She looks over them, “This is my favorite part,” a full smile breaking through while Gina takes Laura’s hands in hers before continuing. “Which brings me to why you two are here. I am going after those responsible for my brother’s death.” Gina rubs the tops of her hands, “Laura, your fiancé works for one of them.”

Laura closes her eyes at this, tears still falling and mutters, “But LaNyah was supposed to be the fall guy, not Matthew.” Gina’s eyes widen at that.

“When did he tell you?”

“What? Wait, he set me up?”

LaNyah and Gina blurt out at the same time. Laura rolls her eyes at LaNyah, “I told you this was all your fault.” LaNyah opens and closes her mouth before looking over at a laughing Gina. She can’t believe it. Minding her own business and she became the ultimate pawn in someone’s game of revenge. What is her life?

---

“Babe, stay here with Stacey. Let us handle this.” Alex moves to keep Ashley from coming with them. Kill is on the other side of the room, tying his combat boots while talking on the phone. Stacey is at the conference room table, pulling up floorplans to the warehouse. Alex and Kill changed into dark military fatigues in preparation for the battle zone they are entering.

“Fuck that! I already told you what I would do when it came to LaNyah.” She gets in his face, “I need to be there when you find her! So, don’t you dare try to keep me from being there!” Ashley snatches up another pair of fatigues and pushes past him towards the bathroom, slamming the door. Alex stops short as the door nearly misses hitting him.

Kill finished with his last call, turns towards him. “Green, stop.” Alex walks back over to him, “Just accept the fact that she is coming with us. You can’t stop her, and even I wouldn’t try to stop her.” Kill walks by Matt, who has been untied and snatches him up. “Come on. You got some more talking to do.”

Everyone packs into the fully loaded Chevy Suburban that one of Kill’s connects dropped off after Matt gave them the location for the warehouse where Gina is keeping the girls. Kill throws the keys to Green so he can drive. Bridges jumps into the front passenger seat. Kill drags Matt to the second row of the SUV; he is behind Green, and Matt is behind Bridges.

Once they hit the freeway headed south to San Diego, Kill turns in his seat to look at Matt. Clearing his throat; he waits until Matt’s attention is on him. Matt’s bloodshot eyes make direct contact with Kill. His petrified stare meets Kill’s murderous scowl. Bridges looks back, turning around in her seat to watch what happens between the two.

“I’m only gonna give you one chance to get this right. From the beginning, when you first met Gina and started working for her. GO!”

Matthew sputters to a start, clenching his hands into fists as they sit on his lap. “She didn’t give me all the details at first. All I know is that she was looking for someone to help her bring down Mr. Green. It was no secret that I had gone out for every single special project, and he never picked me. I know he knew who I was, and even my supervisor helped me become a lead analyst so that I would be on his radar. So, it was no love lost on my part to do something to Mr. Green for how he treated me.” Ashley sucks her teeth, “I swear I didn’t know she was after you when I first started.”

“What was her plan for GBI?” Kill asks him.

Directing his answer to Bridges, “She knew you were married to Mr. Green and figured the easiest way to get you was through him and the company. I was supposed to help her embezzle money from various accounts into her offshore accounts. Make sure all roads led back to him, showing that he was stealing from his own company leading to a prison sentence. My supervisor was her first inside man at GBI when she brought me on to begin the embezzlement, and she killed him.”

“So, Alan didn’t just quit as we all thought? Wow,” Green remarked as he listened to the conversation about Gina’s plan to take down him and GBI.

“No, his job was to find someone who had put in some time with the company and disliked you enough to make her plan a reality, then vouch for me. When that was done, so was he.” He starts to hiccup, struggling to get the next part out. “She said he served his purpose and shot him right in front of me. Not even 10 minutes after I met her.” He shudders and breaks eye contact with the group.

“What about LaNyah?” Ashley jumps in to ask. “Why her?”

Running his hand through his hair, “Convenience, I guess.” Matt shrugs and looks up at Ashley who glares at him, “It was supposed to be Stacey. Gina didn’t care who was in that position; she just needed to know that I was checking their work and would be able to change the reports and move the money. I only had been working for her about 6 months when Mr. Green hired Stacey as his assistant, causing a delay in the plan to search for a new fall guy. Once he hired LaNyah, I passed over whatever information I had to Gina, and she told me when we would start.”

Matthew explains that he only had the background check that HR completed on her. So, it contained the information that Gina would have needed to complete a deep dive of LaNyah, similar to what Kill did when he found out he would be working with her. They all knew what that meant, even if he didn’t.

With LaNyah being new and a personal hire by Green, it made her the perfect scapegoat because everything links her position and working for the company to Green. The money starts disappearing after she began working there, and no one would know because he was altering the reports after she completed her weekly data entry reconciling all the accounts her team handled.

“We started skimming money from the Scholarship account about 3 months after LaNyah joined the company. It would be believable since she needed time to learn the system before manipulating it.”

“So, she’s after Bridges and Green? Anyone else?” Kill asks Matt, wondering if he is the one who gave her the information she needed to track him down finally.

Matt’s eyes lift as he thinks about the question. “You know what, I think she might have, but I have no way of knowing. She only tells me what she feels I need to know when it matters.” He briefly pauses, inhaling deeply, “All I know was she asked me to increase the amount of money we were moving about 3 weeks ago. I told her we needed to be careful because I figured out that Mr. Stevens was here auditing the accounting department.”

“How did you know that?” Green speaks up.

“I am supposed to watch LaNyah, too, and noticed she was meeting with you often before your big trip. Then after you were gone, she was always disappearing to the 35th floor to ‘work’ with Stacey on some project. It didn’t make sense to me because she never stays in the office past 6 like the rest of us. But I do recall walking by her office one Friday afternoon, and she was on the ground surrounded by old reports, muttering to herself.” He loosens his tie, “I never thought she would double-check her work, so that could only mean that she may have figured out what was happening. If that was true, then I knew she probably went and told you,” looking at Green, “and Mr. Green must have hired you to look into it.” Kill nodded his head. “When you warned me to back off of her, I wasn’t sure if you worked for Gina. But I would only see you at GBI, so I guessed you were Mr. Green’s man.”

“When did you tell Gina about Erik?” Ashley asks through gritted teeth. He was the only one she could not find from the entire team all these years, and as soon as she finds him, LaNyah goes missing. Matt hasn’t said anything about kidnapping to make her believe that was part of her original plan. She more than likely planned for her to go to prison along with Alex, leaving Ashley by herself.

“About 3 weeks ago, when Gina called me about doubling the funds, I told her about the audit, and I gave her your name since I couldn’t find much about you on my own.” Matt removes the tie from his neck, placing it in his lap. “She screamed about something –” He jumps in his seat, “OMG, it’s you! She’s after you, too! Said something about you being the missing link.”

“Calm down, Matt.” Green rolls his eyes while watching the man panic through the rearview mirror.

“Gina has always scared me, but that call made me even more paranoid than usual. I just wanted to make sure Laura was ok. I made her go and stay with her mother in Bakersfield, 2 months ago.” Twirling the tie in his lap, “I decided to visit her after the call and walked in to find Gina sitting right next to Laura talking shop like this woman wouldn’t have all of us killed with a snap of her fingers.” Tears blur his vision, and Matt’s voice cracks, “Laura knew I was doing some illegal shit behind Mr. Green’s back, so I came clean about what she didn’t know and told her who she just met. Gina called me back that night and told me exactly how much she wanted to move the next time. A week later, I had everything in place to move more than a million from the account.”

“And it takes two weeks before the money moves from the scholarship account. That was what I saw the night before we came back home.” Green states.

Kill closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “You were right, Green, she was planning to make her move which is why we saw the major movement from the account. She wanted us to notice.” Clenching his fists by his sides, “We just didn’t know that by the time we saw it, she already had LaNyah.”

“Laura and my son,” Matt squeaks out. Everyone looks at him as he breaks down.

---

Gina moves away from Laura on the couch, focus bouncing between the two of them. This is going to be better than she thought. Laura pissed at LaNyah. LaNyah upset about what she just found out; that she is a doll in this game. And yet, she still doesn’t even know how big a part she plays. With loathing, Gina gazes at her.

Turning to the right, now fully facing LaNyah, Gina’s smile morphs. Gina’s voice laced with all the malice she could muster, “You, Miss LaNyah Cole, have a relationship with every single person on my list.” Laura gasps and shrinks back on the couch, glad she is not in her place. Now, she and the baby stand a better chance of making it out of this place alive.

Tearing up, LaNyah whispers out, “What?”

“My brother was accused of sexually assaulting the only female member on his team, Ashley Bridges.” She stands up and walks to the other side of the table, looking down at both of them. “You both would recognize her by her married name, Ashley Green.”

LaNyah squeaks out, “Ashley! What do you want with her?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, LaNyah, darling. I did not go through all this trouble for Ashley alone.”

“She wants Mr. Green, too, idiot.” Laura huffs out. LaNyah rolls her eyes at her, growing irritated by this whole situation. She didn’t ask to be put in the middle of this. But it seems everyone around her knew something that she didn’t, and that bothers her.

“You want the whole company to go down?” Gina starts slow clapping. LaNyah puts her head in her hands. Of course, she does. It is why she was the perfect patsy. Blame this on the girl who was like the daughter of the two people she held accountable for her brother’s death.

“You are a brilliant woman, Miss Cole.” She walks to her standalone chair and leans against it, “But you are missing the most important thing or person rather. The only person with the skills to kill my brother like that and clean it up so well. A man who, up until a few weeks ago, I only knew by his nickname, Killmonger.” No, no, no, please do not let it be him. LaNyah’s big, confused brown eyes meet steely grey ones, “Mr. Erik Stevens.”

The tears that she was holding back started rolling down her face. LaNyah clutched her chest with both hands while trying to stay seated in the chair. Her breathing was coming out in spurts between her loud sobs. Gina held her hand up to Laura, who was struggling to get up and go to her. She leans over and starts to rub circles into LaNyah’s back. LaNyah flinches at first but just closes her eyes to find something else to focus on to help her breathe.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s hard to find out that the man you like is a stone-cold killer.” LaNyah’s body tenses at her statement. She peeks over at Laura, who has a look of sympathy on her face as she watches LaNyah breaking down at what she learned. Gina closes her eyes as she continues to speak low, still soothing LaNyah with the circles on her back. “He hurt me, too dear. More than you could ever know.”

---

“Did she pay you well for this suicide mission?” Kill demands harshly, Bridges and Green grimly laugh as Matt turns green. “Matthew, you know if we handed you over to her, she would kill you herself. I mean, she did kill the guy you were supposed to replace when she hired you. The money had to be exceptional, right?”

“3 times my annual salary at GBI,” he meekly responds, “and she told me I didn’t have a choice.”

“Let me guess; she threatened to kill you on the spot? Over Alan’s dead body?” Green interjects. Matt just nods his head. They all shake their heads in understanding. It was gonna be him or someone else. But Gina was gonna execute her plan regardless of how many casualties lined the path.

The mood shifts in the SUV as everyone disappears into their thoughts. Ashley is sniffling upfront, swimming in guilt for putting LaNyah in harm’s way. There was no way she knew anyone was coming for her husband or her, but still, Nyah is like her daughter. And in her haste to find LaNyah something to be in control of and help her build a career, Ashley never considered how Nyah working under her husband could lead to such a moment.

Alex looks over at Ashley and grabs her hand, kissing it. “Stop beating yourself up. You could not have known this was gonna happen. We didn’t know McCoy had a twin who would seek vengeance for his death. There is nothing that could have prepared us for any of this. We deal with it now, together as a team. Just like we always have, ok?” Ashley squeezes his hand in response, not trusting her voice at this point.

Kill looks out at the passing fields, controlling his breathing. Gina knows about LaNyah’s connection to Green and Bridges. What else could she know? If Gina is thorough enough to uncover his identity and know that he was involved compared to the rest of the team, then she knows he was the one who killed her brother. She is gunning for him specifically, but she wants to take everyone down – Bridges, who was her brother’s victim; her husband and protector, Green; and their ‘daughter,’ LaNyah. She is using her as bait to bring all three of them to her. No one is supposed to make it out of there alive, except for Gina and her goons.

LaNyah. How is she handling all of this? If he didn’t push her so hard, he could have been watching her like he was supposed to be. Instead, he had hoped his updates from Stacey, as infrequent as those were, would provide him with enough information to know she was doing fine and safe from harm. But this is something else altogether; she was kidnapped in broad daylight by a maniac with no regard for human life. Kill laughs to himself, just like him back then – one goal, one focus, by any means necessary. He runs his hands through his dreads, grateful that he decided to braid them back today. There is no room for any mistakes here and too many lives at risk. It’s LaNyah or bust. He’ll deal with all the other bullshit later.

Snapping his fingers, Bridges and Matt look at him. “You know you’re done, right?” Matt nods, “Good. You’ll serve time in federal prison, but at least you will be alive to meet your son and maybe save your family.”

Matt sighs, “I just wanted to provide for my family. I understand, but I am grateful to be alive.” He glances up at Green catching his eyes in the rearview mirror, “I’m sorry for everything I did to you, sir. To your business and your family, including LaNyah.” Green acknowledges his apology.

Green turns off the road into an industrial complex, leading to Gina’s warehouse. Kill slaps the back of his seat, an old signal from when Green used to drive during other missions. The mission has started, and nothing else matters until they get back into the SUV. Releasing Ashley’s hand, she watches the two of them, Killmonger and Green. The two men who saved her all those years ago are back and ready to do it all over again. She smiles to herself, and they are going to save LaNyah, too.

“You know she’s probably expecting you?” Matt says that like wasn’t the most prominent thought in all of their heads as they approach lot near the warehouse. Everyone was smart enough to keep it to themselves.

“We know.” Green declares.

“And we are ready for her.” The sound of a gun rack sliding catches Matt’s attention, and he looks over to see Kill holding a Glock.

Chapter 12

Taglist: @killmongersaidheyauntie @muse-of-mbaku @panthergoddessbast @youreadthatright @princessstevens @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stark-red19 @kreolemami @bidibidibombaclaat @iamrheaspeaks @missumuch1918 @simplyyamberr @cheychey10142 @ajspencer1892 @chrismarcs @loosewindmill @sydneebleu @semianta @eyeknowmywrites @alexundefined @itsjustmezari @goddessofthundathighs @guccixcucci @kissmyafropuff @gimmeface @fd-writes @jozigrrl @soufcakmistress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @shaekingshitup @localtrapgod @post-woke @theesotericqueen

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #the firm #thadelightfulone

48 notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years ago

Text

When the Sun Sleeps in Canto Bight [12]

Previous Entire Series Referenced Chapter (Kylo’s Scar) CHAPTER PLAYERS Ruby Girard-Solo Kylo Ren aka Ben Solo Artoo, The Bartender Rose Tico, Manager of the Organa Hotel “Uncle” Lando Calrissian Kuruk (Knights of Ren) Leia Organa-Solo “Uncle” Bacca “Chewie” Maychew CHAPTER CONTENT Mild Violence: Domestic (face grab and slaps); abuse against employee (pistol-whip and punch) Plotting/Murder mention Brief commentary on aging (watching parents/loved ones get older)

Relaxed, fresh, and light--Ruby glided through the bare tables of the Organa Hotel’s lounge and sat at the bar. Everyone was probably too busy enjoying Canto Bight’s sights, or the hotel’s amenities.

“Good afternoon!” Artoo, the bartender greeted her.

“Good afternoon, Artoo. I’d like the most afternoon appropriate drink you have. Something with citrus, perhaps?”

“I’ve got the perfect thing. Coming right up.”

Ruby looked up at the exit just in time to see Rose saunter by, then take two steps backward. She floated into the lounge and sat beside Ruby.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Solo. Will you be joining the meeting with Leia this afternoon?” she asked. Ruby’s eyebrows knitted together.

“No, I don’t know about any meeting,” Ruby answered.

Rose nodded. “Must be a business meeting. How was the spa yesterday?”

“It was divine. I may have to visit them every week.”

“You should! And I’m not saying that as the manager,” Rose said leaning in. “I’ve found that moms especially enjoy the spa. Weekly, monthly, bi-weekly. It’s a great way to relax and rejuvenate.”

“I agree. I’ll try to make a future appointment.”

“Great!” Rose looked over her shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m in my office today.”

She leaned in and again and whispered. “Some weirdo’s been wandering around the hotel these last couple of days and I'll be down here keeping an eye on him.”

Artoo slid an orange-colored drink to Ruby and she chuckled.

“Be careful,” she said to Rose.

“Oh, I will.”

Rose gently placed her hands against her chest. “Boobs aren’t the only thing I squeeze into this bra.”

Ruby laughed and Rose winked. Then, she strolled back out of the lounge. Ruby took a sip of her drink. She smiled and nodded at Artoo, who patiently awaited her approval. He nodded back and tended to other bar tasks.

About ten minutes passed and Ruby was sipping on her refill, and munching on peanuts. Then, an older gentleman sauntered into the bar. He was quite handsome--wavy hair, smooth brown skin--and wore a slate blue suit. He left the seat between him and Ruby empty, but flashed a beautiful smile at her, then Artoo.

“Holt 45, Mr. Calrissian?” Artoo asked.

“You know it.”

Artoo reached under the bar, pulled out a can, popped it open, and slid it to the man.

“Calrissian?” Ruby asked. “Would you happen to be Mr. Lando Calrissian?”

The man smiled. “Lando Calrissian, I happen to be.”

“My name’s Ruby.” She slid into the empty seat and held her hand out. “Ruby Girard...Solo…”

A wide grin formed across Lando’s face. “Ben’s wife!”

Lando bypassed the handshake and hugged Ruby. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Ben talks about you a lot--Uncle Lando.”

“Haven’t heard that in a while. He’s the only person who’s ever called me Uncle Lando. It was Uncle Wando when he was really little.”

“Aww,” Ruby hummed.

“How is he?”

“He’s...he’s alright…”

“Is he Ben?” Lando asked, acknowledging her lack of words.

Ruby laughed and nodded. “He’s Ben.”

“Apparently, I’m a granduncle, too,” Lando added.

“Yes. You are a granduncle three times.”

“So Han has told me! I can only hope that old Ben brings the family around me someday.”

“I’ll pass the message to him,” Ruby said.

Lando smiled and shrugged. “Of course, I haven’t been around much myself. Not since Leia and Han split, I suppose.”

“I’m sure Ben would be glad to know that I met you. I assume you’re here to meet Leia?”

“Yes, I am,” Lando answered. He looked down at his watch. “I’m pretty early. I wanted to get a drink, first.”

Lando and Ruby talked for about twenty minutes--about the children, about Ben. Ruby didn’t tell him about her frustrations with Ben, and he didn’t talk about the purpose of his meeting with Leia. Finally, Lando looked down at his watch again.

“I guess I’ll be heading up.”

“I think I should head to my room, too.”

“Shall I walk you?” Lando asked.

“I’d be honored.”

Lando helped Ruby off her barstool and escorted her out the lounge, through the lobby, and into the elevator. Her suite and the room he’d be meeting Leia in happened to be on the same floor. When they got off the elevator, Leia was walking out of the conference room with a bucket of ice.

“Hi, Ruby!” she said. “I’m going to come by and see you after this meeting. I need to get some ice for these damned drinks, first.”

Ruby laughed. “I’ll be in my room, probably taking a nap.”

____________________

Kylo called Leia. She wasn’t home. Crystal wasn’t home. Han would be at the cathedral, certainly. He dropped the kids off at Vic and Tillie’s--saying that he had an emergency and explaining no further. Then, he made his way to the Organa Hotel.

“Some guy. Kinda old. Nice lookin’...” Kuruk had told him.

“And they went upstairs?” Kylo repeated, making sure he had the partial information correct.

“Yep.”

Kylo practically crushed the handset in his hands.

About an hour and a half later, he and Kuruk were strolling through the hotel lobby and up the elevator to the top floor. The doors couldn’t open fast enough for Kylo. He flew out of the elevator and to the special suite - a suite his mom had dragged him to as a kid, while she took meetings next door. He remembered the beautiful view; the floral sheets that transformed into satin as he got older. He banged on the door--and for far too long, if you asked him.

Finally, Ruby looked through the peephole with eyes full of curiosity and annoyance. She didn’t open the door all the way--she just peeped through the small space she’d made.

“Kylo?”

Kylo pushed the door open and strolled through the room. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?” Ruby asked. As he walked past her, he looked her up and down--her body adorned in the silk robe he’d bought her. Her hair held no finger or Marcel wave--in its natural state and frizzy in the back--like she’d been rolling around on it.

The sight burned him up, and he dropped to his knees, searching under the bed. Then, he jumped back to his feet.

“Kylo, what are you doing?!”

Kylo grabbed Ruby by the jaw and pushed her into the wall.

“Don’t play with me! Where the fuck is he?! Where’s the son of a bitch you came up here with!”

Ruby struggled against Kylo’s grip.

“Get off me!” she cried.

When her desperate attempt to pry his hand from her jaw failed, she slapped him across the face. Then, he slapped her back--sending her to the floor with a gasp.

“Boss! Here he is!” Kuruk said outside of the suite. Kylo rushed out of the room and slid into the hallway, where he was met with the sight of his mother, his Uncle Lando, and his Uncle Chewie--leaving the conference room with friendly smiles.

“Benny Boy!” Lando shouted, his arms outstretched.

Kylo’s face turned red and he glared at Kuruk. “The one in blue.”

“Hey, Uncle Lando,” he said, letting the old man embrace him. He hugged him back.

“What are you doing here, Ben?” Leia asked. She looked at him, observing the redness of his face as he walked over to hug his Uncle Chewie. Then, she glanced at the stranger with her son. She walked a few yards to the opened suite where Ruby had her suitcase on the floor and was dropping her clothes inside.

“Excuse me, one second,” Kylo said, rushing away from his long-lost “uncles” before they started to catch up on old times. He rushed into the suite and was immediately greeted by his mother’s opened palm. He saw it coming, but he put up no fight.

“Go in the conference room,” Leia growled.

“Ruby, I’m sorry,” he said, stepping toward Ruby. Leia stepped in front of him.

“Go into the conference room, NOW!” Leia repeated.

Tears fell down Kylo’s face. Ruby looked up at him with tears in hers. He walked out of the suite, and before going to his designated stop, he pulled his gun from his holster and hit Kuruk across the face with it.

“Ben!” Uncle Lando and Uncle Chewie shouted.

“What the fuck?!” Kuruk shouted. Kylo slammed him into the wall.

“That’s Lando Calrissian you fuckin’ idiot!” Kylo yelled into Kuruk’s face. Then, he punched him in the gut. “He’s my fuckin’ Uncle. You dumb bitch!”

Lando and Chewie pulled their “nephew” away, as Kuruk held his aching stomach.

“I’m sorry, Boss. I didn’t fuckin’ know!”

____________________ “Where is she going?” Kylo asked as soon as his mother stepped into the conference room.

Lando and Chewie rose to their feet like gentlemen.

“We’ve got something more important to talk about right now,” Leia said. Lando held her seat for her, then he sat down beside her.

“You know what?” Leia asked. She looked at Lando. “I could kill him myself right now. So one of you tell him.” Lando’s eyebrows lifted, and he looked at Chewie. Then, Chewie looked at Kylo.

“Sheev Palpatine was at the Jabba Palace last night,” Chewie said.

“And a couple of other men. Men that we believe work for you,” Lando added.

“They were younger than him--but older than you,” Chewie confirmed. “They were saying that you’re not fit to lead the Knights of Ren anymore.”

Kylo’s eyes followed each man as they talked, occasionally landing on his mother’s contorted and angry face.

“And they talked about taking you out, son,” Lando said, finally bursting the bubble.

Kylo’s eyes landed back on Lando. Silence permeated the air. Leia’s face softened.

“Son, I want you out of this mess,” she said, leaning forward. “I want you out of this life now,” she said.

Kylo’s eyes darted across the three people before him. They all seemed so big, once upon a time. Now, all three of them appeared to be a few inches shorter. Lando, a little heavier--less hair than the last time he’d seen him. His mother, her famous long hair now gray. Uncle Chewie--famously hair, was less hairy. And the hair on his head was gray.

After taking them and their news in, Kylo rose from his seat and walked out of the door.

First, he stopped at Ruby’s suite, and knocked on the door.

“She’s gone, Ben,” Leia said, standing outside of the conference room. “Let’s finish talking about this, Sweetie.”

Kylo stared at the door. Then, he kicked it.

“I’m going to find my wife,” he said.

He walked down the hallway, toward the elevators.

As he waited for the doors to open, he glanced in the ornately bordered mirror beside him. The ceiling light highlighted every one of his features. It lightened his dark hair. It made him see the scar along his cheek--and he immediately remembered why it was there in the first place.

He was supposed to be the only person in his house with a scar on their face. Her tears were supposed to be joyful. Never sadness. Never pain, if he could help it. The only time she was supposed to be stretched out on the floor, was when he was making love to her on it. Suddenly, he realized that he too, was a few inches shorter.

#when the sun sleeps in canto bight

5 notes · View notes

mnemememory · 5 years ago

Text

sweet little lamb

(part 1)

beauty in the beast au; where jester is a teapot, caleb is a candelabra, and yasha is an evil demon (except she's really not)

Beau exists in a perpetual state of making bad decisions.

At least, according to her mother. Beau’s gotten good at tuning out the rants about coming home late, coming home drunk, coming home with hickeys on her neck or not bothering to even come home at all. Beau spends most of her nights crashing on couches with people she hadn’t known before that evening. The village of Kamordah is small, but the city located just an hour out certainly isn’t. Every time Beau leaves behind the stink of a thousand people, she feels a little less herself.

Still. She hadn’t actually expected them to kick her out.

“Hey,” she yells, banging on the door. The locked door. They even moved the spare key out from under the doormat. “I’m back! Let me in!”

Nothing.

Beau scowls and kicks at the doorframe one more time, before turning and stuffing her hands into her pockets. She looks around at the street. Thankfully, it’s still early enough that no one was out and about to witness her inglorious disownment. Apparent disownment. If they want to get rid of Beau, they’re going to have to look her in the eyes and say it. If anything, she wants to be able to punch someone before the village police are called.

The neighbourhood is already fairly used to bursts of random shouting coming from wherever Beau turns out to be, so no one rushes out to demand Why are you awake at this ungodly hour of the morning? The answer is, obviously, Beau is drunk off her ass and wanted a nice place to sleep tonight. It is her birthday, after all.

Well. It had been her birthday, right up until midnight last night. She is officially eighteen years and one day old. Hurray.

Beau can just imagine what her mother would say now: “I can’t believe you’ve managed to survive this long.” Even in Beau’s imagination, she’s dressed immaculately, holding tight to her little brother’s hand. “Given how often you’ve tried to drink yourself – and us – into an early grave.”

Beau doesn’t drink that much. Her mother tends to overexaggerate for comedic effect, especially when the neighbours were involved. Beau can’t count how many times she’s hidden at the top of the staircase as her mother entertained guests, listening to the horrible things they said about each other. Your daughter certainly is a handful, was often the topic of conversation. I heard she –

It was different, every time, but the tone never changed. Beau always thought it funny how different they sounded when they thought no one was listening.

“I can’t believe this,” she says, kicking at the sidewalk and stubbing her toe. She spits out a few curses that her mother would have killed her for had she uttered them around her baby brother, and then collapses onto the hard ground. She spreads her limbs out like a starfish. Beau is just intoxicated enough to know that this is a bad idea but not particularly care. If someone runs me over with a cart, she thinks, then at least my death will be as messy and inconvenient as possible.

She wonders what her parents would tell her little brother. Maybe he’d wake up early, like he always seemed to do. Maybe they wouldn’t catch him fast enough to stop him from looking at her mangled corpse. People died all the time in villages like hers, where hygiene came in the form of bi-weekly bathes and soap strong enough to give sensitive skin chemical burns, but her little brother hadn’t really been in the forefront of all that.

Beau stares up at the stars. She counts the specks of light until she loses track, until the sunlight starts to bleach the sky pale. It’s cloudless and beautiful. The weather is perfect. Of course it is.

(It had been raining yesterday. Beau can already feel the water pooling in-between the cobblestone cracks, soaking into her jacket and chilling her to the bone.

Of course the weather was perfect for her little brother’s birthday, but not for hers. Of course).

“You’re looking rather down, young lady,” someone says.

Beau opens her eyes. There is a man standing above her, silhouetted by the rising sun. He’s a drow, his long tattered black cloak pulled loosely around a set of grey leather armour. There’s a blue cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face, obscuring everything but his eyes. Yellow eyes.

Very slowly, Beau sits up. There’s still no one around, which is odd but not unusual. It’s the day after a festival, after all. People were probably still nursing off their hangovers in the comfortable cool darkness of their own homes.

“What do you want?” she says, reaching up to press a hand to her forehead. Gah. That was such a bad idea. Now the world is spinning. As much fun as it would be to get robbed just outside her parents house, she doesn’t exactly feel like mugging some poor random to get back whatever shreds of her dignity remained.

The man seems to smile down at her. It’s a little hard to tell, with the only reference she has being the slight upward curve of his glowing eyes. “I was just passing through,” he says. “Thought you might be in a bit of trouble.”

Urgh. “No,” Beau says, bracing herself. She jumps to her feet without too much wooziness, which she’s going to count as a win. “Everything’s fine. Nothing to see here.”

“Is that so,” the man says.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Beau says, flexing her fingers. She bends down again to grab her staff. “You here for the festival?”

“You could say that,” the man says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau says. “I don’t speak bullshit.”

“On the contrary, I expect that’s the only language you do speak.”

Beau lunges forward. “Excuse –”

He’s gone.

Beau whirls around at the sound of mocking laughter. The drow is standing behind her, eyes in half-moons, arms crossed. He’s leaning casually against the pole of a streetlamp.

Twirling her staff, Beau rushes him. She lands a blow with a sickening crack, following up with her fists –

Only to hit the pole. Beau’s knuckles bounce off the metal, numb.

“I’m here to collect a debt,” the man says. He’s still behind her. How did he manage to get behind her again?

“I don’t owe you shit,” Beau says. “I don’t even know who you are.”

The man tuts. “I think you owe quite a few people you don’t know quite a few things,” he says. “That speakeasy you opened up in the city certainly hasn’t been making bank on generous donations from wealthy benefactors, after all.”

“You’re here about the Mighty Nein?” Beau says, clenching her teeth. “What are you, a tax collector?”

“Well, you certainly don’t pay for all that alcohol,” he says. “But no. In this, you’re not incorrect. You don’t know who I am. But I certainly know who you are, Miss Lionett.”

Beau briefly closes her eyes. She shifts around her grip on her staff. “Is this something Dad owes you?”

The man lifts up his hand, like he’s ringing an imaginary bell. “Ding! And your father insisted on you being slow. No, I think you’re just the intelligence level I need for this.”

“For what?” Beau says, and then snaps into a flurry of blows. He’s gone before she can even land a glancing hit, which is nothing if not a blow to her pride.

“Just a little job I need done,” he says. Beau doesn’t turn around this time. She looks from side to side, mind frantically working out some new strategy. There’s still no one outside, despite the sun being well above the buildings by now. Festival or no festival, the harvest must be tended. Beau’s father would skin anyone who thought about skipping a day of work because of too much late-night partying. Beau would know. She’s borne the brunt of one-too-many early-morning shouting matches over that exact situation.

“I don’t work for assholes,” Beau says.

“And yet you work for your father,” he says.

Beau grins into the distance, sharp as a knife. “I wouldn’t say I work for him exactly.”

The man snaps his fingers. “Of course! What I meant was ‘embezzle’! But that’s not important right now, Miss Lionett. I’m here because I was promised something very valuable in return for services rendered, say – hmm. Eighteen years ago?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beau says.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that Thoreau Lionett never mentioned how he came into his wealth?”

Beau stops short. “You can’t be.”

“Oh, he did mention me. How delightful.”

Beau spins on her heel to stare at him. “You were the one who told him to come here. To start making wine.”

“And oh, how he has prospered,” he says, holding out his arms wide to encompass the buildings behind him. “And all I asked in return was a promise for help. Eighteen years later, and here I am, seeking to have that promise fulfilled.”

“I didn’t promise you shit,” Beau says.

“But your father did, when I talked to him last night,” the man says. “He suggested that you might be more than capable of killing the beast that hunts in the dark forest. You are decent with that weapon of yours, am I correct? Decent enough to kill a monster?”

Beau narrows her eyes.

“You want me to kill something,” she says. “That’s your repayment. Eighteen years ago, you looked at my Dad – who is pathetic when it comes to weapons – and thought, gee, this guy looks like just the man for the job.”

“I didn’t know I wanted this beast killed eighteen years ago,” the man says. “Now I do.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” the man says. He snaps his fingers. His eyes flare an intense gold, and for a split-second Beau can almost see the misshapen shadows of wings burned into the wall behind him. Then the wall is gone, the ground is gone, everything is gone. Beau unbalances and falls down onto her knees, staff automatically digging into – into something to stabilise herself. She blinks heavily and looks around.

They are no longer in the village. Beau cautiously gets to her feet, head still pounding, and looks around at the dense forest that stretches out as far as she can see – which isn’t very far. The trees are packed so closely together that it’s impossible to make out anything from more than three feet away. She takes a step forward and gets her foot tangled up in a web of tree-roots that are just sort of chilling on top of the dirt.

“Find the monster and kill it,” the man says. Beau looks up. He’s sitting in the branches of a tree, lounging casually. “All your father’s debts will be repaid, and I will never trouble your doorstep again.”

“I didn’t agree to this,” Beau howls, stumbling over to kick viciously at the tree trunk. She peels off some sodden, moss-covered bark, but the rest of it is healthy. Mostly she just gets wet for the effort.

“Who knows,” the man says. He sounds almost amused, the jerk. “Maybe it will kill you first. That would certainly be entertaining, if inconvenient.”

“Take – me – back!”

The man snaps his fingers, and he’s gone.

Beau would like to say that she handles the situation with maturity and poise.

What she does is yell out every swear-word known to man (and a few only known to halflings) and kick at things until her ankles are swollen and her knees are bloody and damp. It takes her a good ten minutes to calm down. By then, she’s already figured out that she’s probably scared off all the small game in the area and attracted this “monster” for an easy feast.

“What a dick,” she says, trudging in – a direction. A random direction. There are no signs of anything monstrous anywhere, Beau is literally faking this whole thing until she can make it. “What was Dad thinking, listening to someone who won’t even show his face – it’s shady, that’s what it is, and I know Dad isn’t as stupid as he pretends to be –”

Beau keeps walking. And walking. And walking.

There’s some part of her that thinks that maybe she should just – stop? For a little while? Take a break, try to get some bearing on her surroundings. Climb a tree, yeah, that’d be a good idea. Beau is too irritated to be thinking logically, though. Maybe in half an hour. Maybe in an hour.

(It takes two hours and twenty minutes).

“Okay,” Beau says to herself when she’s finally calmed down from her impromptu temper tantrum. She limbers up and looks around for the nearest sturdy-looking tree, which is all of them. There are so many trees here. Beau is starting to feel claustrophobic just thinking about it. “Here I go –”

And then she’s shooting towards the sky.

There’s nothing quite so freeing as parkouring up a tree. Beau can’t quite stop herself from laughing as she twists mid-air, catching onto a low-hanging branch and propelling herself up. She’s at the top almost too soon, but she hasn’t even broken the canopy, so she just jumps onto the closest trunk and keeps going.

It takes a while to find somewhere she can get a decent view from. She clings to the bendy part of the top of the tree and sways with the wind. The sun is already settled comfortably into the centre of the sky, heat tickling the back of Beau’s neck. The view is incredible.

And also – unfortunately – familiar.

“Oh fuck,” Beau says, staring in dismay at the castle which emerges out of the canopy in the distance. It looms, dark even in the sunlight. “That’s what he meant by monster.”

Once upon a time…

(“Why do you always start your stories like that, grandpa? Can’t you just tell me when it happened?”

“I don’t always know that. And shh, stop interrupting you impertinent girl. It’ll be worth your while.”)

…there was a girl.

These things always seem to start with a girl. She was beautiful, because all good heroines must be beautiful, and brave, because they must always be brave too. And she fell in love, as beautiful brave girls do, and everything was right in the world.

Only, she fell in love with the wrong person.

Destiny is a funny thing, little girl. She fell in love with teeth and claws and bloodstained blades. There was a Creature stalking in the night, and the girl went outside and made it her friend.

(“That’s stupid. Who would fall in love with something like that?”

“Hush, it’s only a story.”)

And when the time came for the girl to be married to the man chosen for her, she repudiated him and instead ran to the comfort of her Creature. Her family, fearing the worst, hurried after her, and –

(“And? And what? You can’t end things like that!”

“It’s getting late, Beau. I’ll finish this story tomorrow night.”

“Please? Please? Tomorrow is so far away, grandpa.”

“What do you want me to say? The girl dies and the Creature forever haunts the forest. The end.”

“That’s a horrible end.”

“That’s the one I was told, and the one I’m telling you.”

“Make up a better ending, then.”

“Go to sleep, Beau.”)

There are stories about the castle.

Of course there are stories about the castle. Kamordah is a small village. There are stories about the well being haunted. There are stories about how Miss-So-And-So definitely killed Mister-So-And-So at that crossroads over there, and if you look on the night of a full moon, you can still see the bloodstains. There are stories about the castle.

Kamordah is surrounded by a forest, as all good villages are want to do. Beau has to trudge through an endless expanse of greenery to get to the city, and has to trudge right back through to return. As with any forest that encompasses more than sixty square feet of shrubbery, people get lost.

It happens. The village has learned to accept that sometimes, people walk too far into the trees and don’t come back for a good few days. Maybe even weeks, depending on how stupid they are. They come back wild-eyed and so scared.

(some of them stay scared for the rest of their lives).

“There’s – there’s something in there,” people say, shaking. Always shaking. “A beast – a monster – I was walking for hours – days – lifetimes – and then there it was. A castle, right out of a fairy tale. Tall enough to touch the sky. Spiked to stab the sun. And there was nothing else, no other way out. I turned around and walked away and it was still there in front of me. And eventually I had to go to the gate.”

Beau used to hide on the side of the staircase, half-hidden by wine barrels and the railing. Her father was the unofficial-official leader of the village, and the police always brought crazy people to his house when they reappeared.

Her father had never seemed surprised at any of the insane ramblings. Beau would peek out between the slats and stare at him, and the policeman, and whatever person for that month was hunched over in a chair.

“Wings,” they would say. “Bat wings – skeletal wings – eyes right out of the fires of hell. A bloodless face.”

“And what happened to you when you went inside?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Beau heard a thousand times. “No matter how far I ran, the castle would always be waiting for me. I opened the gate and that – that thing was there, and it spoke to me, but I can’t remember what it said. It was too horrifying. I passed out.”

(Or, sometimes, if they were more foolish than fearful, it was:

“I opened the gate and it was there, the creature. It spoke, but I don’t remember what it said. Then it led me into the castle. I don’t remember what happened after that, only that it was – it was horrifying beyond words. Please. Please. Don’t make me think about it anymore.”)

They would all walk free the next day, unrestricted by wounds, barely a half-hours straight walk from the village. And they could not stop shaking.

Here’s what everyone knows:

There’s a monster in the castle.

It’ll get you if you wander too far.

“Looks like I’m caught,” Beau says to herself, leaning back against the tree and closing her eyes.

That was something everyone had agreed on. Once you saw the castle, there was no escape.

She slides down the trunk and lands on the ground with her knees bent. She doesn’t immediately straighten up, just looks down at the ground with pursed lips and balances her elbows against her knees. She has to think this through.

On one hand – the monster has never really killed anyone. Traumatised, yes. Ruined lives, absolutely. But not necessarily killed.

There’s something she’s missing here. Something that man doesn’t want her to know.

On the other hand…maybe this would do it. Maybe this would be the thing that stopped her father from looking through her. Maybe he would finally see that he fucking owed her for throwing her under the cart like this. Maybe –

Beau leans back and collapses into a cross-legged position, laughing.

“Sure,” she says, grinning up into the green-dappled light of the canopy. “Yeah, that’s gonna do it. Let’s wash the slate clean.” She rolls her eyes.

Beau gets up and brushes herself off. She’s spent the last few years bouncing off from person to person, learning what she could and stealing what she couldn’t. She’s gotten good at reading people, is what she’s saying. And that man had wanted nothing good from her, or from her family. In the loosest sense of the word, of course.

She starts walking forward. It doesn’t matter if she’s walking towards the castle, or away from it. According to the stories, it’ll find her eventually.

And it does.

Beau isn’t surprised when she looks up and sees the castle. Still, it’s a little jarring – she’s been periodically checking the horizon, trying to catch a glimpse of anything off in the distance. There aren’t too many clear spaces between the branches, so she’s working with a very limited amount of vision. She’s careful, and methodical, and it still manages to catch her off guard.

The castle is large. It imposes itself between the spaces of the forest, dark and ominous despite the light. The bricks are old obsidian, chiselled smooth and worn rough. The walls are crumbling in on themselves, the edges uneven and covered in thick layers of ivy. At the front there is a gatehouse, tall and spiked, framed by the two separate towers built into the far edges.

Beau breaks free of the forest and into the clearing, stopping at the edge of the still lake that surrounds the building. Around the sides, the trees are reflected almost perfectly against the dark waters. The only entrance to the castle is the long, thinly arched walkway leading to the front gate.

She wets her lips and unslings her staff from across her back. Okay. Okay. The castle has stepped out of her dreams and made itself stone, surreal and beautiful and imposing.

Beau walks forward.

Beau doesn’t remember walking across the moat.

It’s like she’s in a dream, already being pulled too many ways. She’s following flawed logic. The closer she gets, the more muddled her thoughts become, until she’s a hazy mess of thoughts and images. She leans forward, and back, forward, and back, and keeps moving. The Creature who greets her is tall and solidly built, with sad eyes hiding beneath a white mask.

“Beauregard,” it says. “You’ve returned.”

Beau blinks a few times, but nothing comes into focus. She tries to say something, but the words don’t want to come out. All of a sudden, she’s drowning. Her lungs strain under the thick weight of the air.

What’s happening to me? she thinks.

The Creature steps forward as soon as Beau’s feet hit the end of the moat, lifting Beau like she weighs nothing (which is certainly not true, it’s all muscle) and carrying her back towards the Castle.

“It will wear off in a few hours,” it says.

Beau makes a noise in the back of her throat. Mostly she’s trying not to vomit.

“I’ll leave you with Jester until then.”

Which means nothing to Beau. She grabs onto the Creature’s fur coat with all the strength in her inexplicably weakened body. Leaning up into the Creature’s ear, she hisses: “What the hell is going on?”

The Creature stares down at her through the expressionless mask. There are no wings. There is no fire, or blood, or ice. Beau is almost let down by the lack of melodrama – or she would be, if her head would stop spinning.

“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” the Creature says. “You’ll want to sleep off the nausea before you do that. I’ve heard it’s rather unpleasant.”

Beau punches the Creature. Tries to.

Embarrassingly enough, she faints.

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #beauyasha #part 1 #beauty and the beast au #beau #yasha #fanfic #critical role fanfiction #my writing #4k

65 notes · View notes

thejamaicanweeb · 4 years ago

Text

Mitosis - Soul Division Prologue: The Average Candidate

A/N: Hey there! This is just an OM fanfic I’m writing with two MCs based on my two best friends in the entire world. Based on the main stories, Devilgram stories, texts and events. I hope you enjoy it! -Jisa

EDIT!!!: I cannot believe I forgot this! TRIGGER WARNING FOR IMPLIED ABUSE! (Honestly, being beaten as discipline is such a common thing here; it never even occurred to me that what was every day and normal here could trigger someone else I am so so sorry Q_Q)

Name: Sinai

Age: 23

DOB: 08/09/1996, Sunday 11:58 pm

Highest Level of Education: Associates Degree BB Med Sci. Undertaking an MBBS degree.

Race: Human

Region: South America and the Caribbean

Shadows obscured the rest of the information. A black-gloved hand picked up the profile that had slipped from the short stack of papers on the desk. Intelligent scarlet eyes scanned the rest of the page quickly, then glanced at the small picture fastened to the upper right-hand corner.

The young woman in the picture beamed up at him. A wide smile crinkled her russet brown eyes shut. Large red glasses sat on top of a short nose. While her round face made her appear a few years younger at first glance, dark under-eye circles added the years back. The raven-haired demon placed the paper on the desk and ground the heels of his palms against his eyelids, trying in vain to rub the gritty feeling of fatigue away. He stifled a yawn as his DDD rang.

“Hm?”

“Lucifer?”

As always, Diavolo sounded animated, even in the early hours of the morning

“You’re still awake, I see. Decided yet?”

Lucifer sank back into his chair. The weight of his exhaustion sat on his chest, pushing the air out in a sigh.

“Not yet,” he responded, brushing his hand over his forehead.

“Hey, don’t agonize over this for too long, all right? You can just pick one at random, really. Besides, it’s pretty late and you’ve been running on fumes as is.”

“I’m fine.”

“You fell asleep mid-sentence at lunchtime.” Diavolo pointed out

Lucifer made a non-committal sound as he glanced down at the profile in front of him. The time on his wristwatch made him regret checking (as it usually did). He had long since stopped trying to keep track of the scores of profiles that had made the shortlist of humans. They blurred together after the first hundred or so. He glanced at the paper in front of him and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know what? Yes, I have decided. At least this one seems less... mischievous than Solomon.” he muttered as an afterthought

“Oh? Great! Send a picture?”

“Sure.”

Diavolo pulled the DDD away from his ear as the message came in. He switched the call to speakerphone.

“I see what you mean,” he commented with a laugh, “Well, she seems nice enough,”

“I suppose so. What should I do with the rest?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it now. Get to sleep! It’s not like they’ll run away,”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He could practically see Diavolo waving off his question. He glanced at his watch again and groaned internally.

“Fine,” he conceded, turning off the desk lamp and ending the call. As he stood and stretched, a draft entered, making the flames in the fireplace dance and disturbing the pile of papers.

“Oh, no you don’t!” he growled, slamming his DDD on top before striding across the room to latch the window shut.

Unbeknownst to him, a single candidate had escaped, whisked out into the chilly night air. It danced erratically across the starry sky, fluttered through the wrought iron bars of the gate before coming to rest on the sidewalk for a moment. The wind whisked it upwards and then:

Rip!

A small dark clawed hand snatched it out of midair, perforating the margins.

“Hey.” said the small horned creature, nudging its companion. Its voice lay somewhere in the territory between a hiss and a high-pitched rasp. It brought to mind the image of nails scraping a chalkboard; it made your hair stand on end. “Look at this.”

The small group glanced around before swiftly melting into the shadows, their dark essence silently oozing around the corner into a hidden alleyway. One by one they re-materialized, their razor-sharp teeth on full display as their ever-present malevolent grins further widened, distorting their faces.

“Interesting, very interesting” one finally broke the silence, squinting at the paper.

“If this is one candidate for the exchange programme…”

“...it would be a shame if a human was killed during such a delicate attempt at diplomacy,” another continued, its tongue flickering out briefly.

“If Diavolo finds out about this, he’ll have our tails for sure,” one of them quipped, its tail nervously twitching back and forth.

“Please, there are millions of us. There’s no way they’d be able to pin it on us,” scoffed the Little Devil holding the profile. “Besides, when has anyone really cared about us lesser demons?”

“Humans are the weakest creatures across the three realms and if this stupid programme works out who knows what will come next? What if they expect us to stop eating them? What if they expect us to start viewing them as… as equals?” it hissed, the distaste in its voice palpable. It looked up, its glowing eyes meeting those of each of its companions’.

“We’re already at the bottom of the food chain here. I’m not about to answer to humans. It’s- it’s just unnatural. Anyway, are you with me or not?”

“We’re with you,” someone piped up. The others nodded in agreement.

“Good.”

The dark talons scraped across the photograph of the human, leaving three parallel gouge marks. They all leaned in as their ringleader lowered its voice to a harsh whisper.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

(づ￣ 3￣)づSTAGE CHANGE(づ￣ 3￣)づ

The human’s picture and summary were pinned to the notice board hours before the occupants of the House of Lamentation stirred. At least those who had bothered to go to bed at all. Lucifer paused briefly on his way out the door. Nothing about the human felt familiar. Pride wasn’t a vice that she struggled with. Based on what he could discern, being self-effacing was second nature to her. A smirk with equal parts contempt and sadism came to his face as he left, as he contemplated how to break her in the face of his sin. I hope your resolve is firm, human. I could do with a challenge.

(⌐■_■)

“Has Lucifer lost it? She looks like a kid! Did the chihuahua need a playmate or something?”

“I know this might be hard, but don’t be stupid. Her cheeks are just a bit chubby. What kid has acne scars like that? Hasn’t she heard of retinols?”

The taller of the two snorted and snapped a picture of the notice board to send in the group. Intense ultramarine eyes flickered up to the picture for a split second before he walked off, his key-chain swaying with every step. In a fluid motion, he pushed his hair off of his forehead and affixed his trademark sunglasses to his face.

“Do you know her?” his brother called after Mammon’s retreating figure

“Ain’t seen her in my life.”

With that Mammon left, his mind already on the business opportunities he’d laid out for the day.

(✿◠‿◠)

Asmodeus continued to survey the young woman, absentmindedly tapping a manicured finger to the corner of his mouth. He had met her only for a moment. That was strange considering her age. After a few more seconds of scrutiny, he shrugged and went back to his room to continue his weekly detox. No doubt existed in his mind that she would fail any test he presented her with. Who wouldn’t, especially since it was so much fun? Who wouldn’t want to fall to the world’s most popular sin?

(ง •_•)ง

Towers and towers of books, all rather precariously stacked, surrounded the Avatar of Wrath as he worked. He tossed his DDD carelessly on his bed about two hours earlier, freeing himself from distractions while he finished his Latin assignment. In all fairness, he finished what the lecturer required him to do but the number of languages from the human realm that originated from the official language of the Devildom. Despite being engrossed in a particularly large tome, he navigated his way around shorter piles without losing his balance. He picked up his phone and checked the notifications.

“Sinai, huh? Interesting name.”

He shut his eyes, pensive. She was familiar, but he didn’t know her personally.

When he opened his eyes he was glaring down at the human, towering over her tiny three-year-old form. She was crying, her large russet eyes pleading along with her choked childish voice that she didn’t want to read. He raised his palm. The crying redoubled and the picture book fell to the floor.

She was older now, maybe about nine or ten, but she was still crying. Black and blue marks were just barely visible against her chestnut-brown skin. He was yelling at her for lying about wearing her retainer.

Satan was then watching a scene unfold before him. Two men were standing in a kitchen yelling at one another. A middle-aged woman was trying to deescalate the situation with little success.

“Hm, a father-son spat? What does that have to do with her?” Satan wondered aloud.

The older man whirled around with a knife in his hand. His wife ordered her son to run. He did. Hours later, at minutes to midnight, the human finally emerged, waking up after falling asleep on her textbooks. She blinked owlishly, disoriented. When the doorknob rattled and her mother walked in. In response to her confusion, her mother hugged her and explained what happened and reassured her that her brother was safe and sound at their grandma’s house. The young woman exhaled, smiled and held her mom and comforted her. For the first time, Satan could hear what she was saying.

“It’s ok Mummy. I’m ok, Mattie is safe. We will be ok,”

Her mother nodded, gave her a watery smile and turned off the kitchen lights. The human watched her mother walk upstairs before crouching down and finally letting her face crumple and hot tears race down her face, her mouth ajar in a silent scream.

Satan shook himself out of his reverie and pondered how he would go about tempting an individual to fall to a sin they feared.

( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

The sizable shadow stopped moving as he heard the notification chime from his pocket. The duffel bag dangled from his fingertips as he squinted at the screen. His eyes widened slightly as he laid his eyes on the picture.

“Huh”

He tapped the microphone icon and continued on his way as he recorded the voice note.

“I guess you could say I know her. We were closer, at least until the last year or two. But even with her appetite, she was always sharing. I guess you could say that she was half in, half out.”

That being said, it was all too easy to fall back into old habits. Compared to the rest of his brothers, his role in testing the exchange student’s soul could be easier. The crisp breeze tousled his hair as his thoughts turned to Belphegor, a now-familiar ache constricting his heart. He wondered if his twin knew the human. He missed him.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The purple-haired demon carefully placed his gaming headset on his desk before he pushed against the ground with the balls of his feet, sending his chair rolling backwards.

“Jeez, why do these guys always blow up the stupid group chat whenever I have a campaign?” he griped, his fingers scrolling rapidly; orange eyes darting back and forth

“Really? All this over a human?” He rolled his eyes and turned back to his setup, not bothering to read the profile under the picture. Odds were he knew the human. He knew nearly every human, even if it was just in passing. After all, which of them could say that envy hadn’t crept upon them? If they did, they were lying. Testing the human’s soul would just be another game, and Leviathan was pretty damn good at games.

(づ￣ 3￣)づSTAGE CHANGE(づ￣ 3￣)づ

“So the only two who recognized her really were Beelzebub and Leviathan?”

Lucifer nodded as he set his teacup back down. He offered his DDD to Diavolo before absentmindedly picking up a cookie. He looked around his study, somewhat aggravated about the state of his study. Every time he set time aside to get it back in order, something always seemed to come up. The height of the piles of reports and bills was alarming, and the bout of sneezing that resulted from searching the shelves was a glaring reminder that it had been a while since he had last dusted. Lucifer shut his eyes and let himself slump into the armchair. The glow of the fireplace made patterns that danced across his eyelids.

A loud guffaw from his companion caused him to open one eye.

Diavolo’s shoulders were still shaking as he showed Lucifer the screen. The Avatar of Pride stared for a few moments before sitting bolt upright and snatching the phone away, eyes wide and slack-jawed.

Two stickers were trending. One was of Diavolo in his true form, donning a beautiful -if - extravagant red ball gown. The other was of himself astride a pastel pink and purple unicorn with a rainbow horn.

His grip threatened to crack the screen as Diavolo managed to compose himself enough to speak

“That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day,” he gasped as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Who is responsible for this?” The words barely made it through Lucifer’s clenched jaw.

“I’m not sure, I think it may have come from the student newspaper. Our students are very creative,”

The Prince was either oblivious or unphased by Lucifer’s displeasure.

“Is that so? Remind me to have a talk with Mephistopheles.”

Choosing to overlook this, Diavolo planted his feet on the ground and rested his elbows on his knees.

“She didn’t have any pacts with them either? Just her own sin?” he peered at Lucifer over his steepled fingers.

The dark-haired man nodded, business-like once more. Diavolo sat back, looking quite pleased with himself.

“Well then, Overall I’d certainly say she seems to be... hm,” He crossed his arms and gazed at the rafters before looking back at Lucifer “I don’t think ‘safe’ is the word I’m looking for, necessarily, but she seems like a great candidate and a counterbalance to Solomon.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “A Counterbalance?”

“I mean, Solomon isn’t exactly your typical human,”

“That’s an understatement,” Lucifer muttered. Diavolo snickered, shaking his head.

“You know what I mean! A monarch, a sorcerer, a scholar and dozens of pacts to boot. He isn’t exactly average, is he?”

Lucifer’s lip curled as he shook his head

“I still don’t see we kept him as a candidate,” he commented. He didn’t expect a meaningful response, especially considering Diavolo was perched at the edge of his seat; his eyes alight the way they always were whenever he latched onto a new brainwave.

“I guess you could consider it an experiment within an experiment; one human with exceptional abilities and one who’s… well, with no offence meant to her… is perfectly average.”

A thud and muffled yelling somewhere beyond the walls cut off the Devildom Prince. Lucifer groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What have they done now?” he exhaled, exasperated.

Diavolo patted his shoulder, trying his best not to laugh at his friend’s distress.

“It’s never a dull moment here, is there?”

“Don’t remind me. Go ahead, you were explaining…”

“Oh yes. I figured it would be an excellent case study. How would the average human when compared to an angel or a demon? What help would they need and how much? If change is to happen, then we need to be on an equal footing across the realms.”

A/N Thank you for reading all the way to the end of this! This is the first writing project I have taken on since like 2012, and I’m nervous as all hecc. I would really appreciate any feedback you have to give or any questions and stuff, I won’t bite, and I’m always eager to improve. I hope this was a good read for you and I will try me best to update on a regular basis! - Jisa

Here’s the next entry!

https://tinyurl.com/mitosis-fic1-1

And If you’d rather read it on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415919/chapters/64353631

3 notes · View notes

kunstpause-archive · 5 years ago

Text

Three OTP Questions: Cassia Hawke and Cullen

I got tagged by the absolute best @elveny and the prompt kinda ran away with me and is full of small nods to so many different parts of our story - I’m kinda proud of it. ^^ Fluffy humor incoming.

The prompt:

1. How did they first meet? 2. What did they think of each other at first? 3. Were they immediately interested / attracted or did that come later?

Cassia had been waiting for Adriene to show up for their weekly shared dinner when Varric suddenly stood inside her kitchen, claiming to have serious and non-negotiable business to discuss with both her and Cullen. Not much later found the three of them around their kitchen table, sharing a bottle of wine as Varric started on why he had dropped by.

“When did we first meet?” Cassia asked, sending him a confused look. “You know how I met Cullen. I told you all about it!”

Cullen‘s eyes widened slightly. “You did?”

“Not the details! Just about the accidental meeting in the tavern and, well, that I spent the night,” Cassia hurried up to add, watching his face go from slightly alarmed to relieved.

“Exactly, you only told me some of it, I had to fill in a lot of blanks!” came the protest from Varric.

“Fill in a lot of blanks for what exactly?” By now, Cassia sounded slightly suspicious.

With a dismissive motion of his hand, Varric shook his head. “Never you worry about that. The fact is I need more information!”

Two pairs of confused-looking eyes narrowed at him. “More information for...?” Cullen asked, his face holding the look of a man who wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted an answer.

“It’s a surprise for now! So, details? Who saw whom first? Was it love at first sight? What was the first thing you thought when seeing each other?” The dwarf had pulled out a notebook and was giving the couple in front of him an encouraging look.

Cassia blinked, trying to sort through the questions one by one. Cullen meanwhile seemed to have a much easier time with this. It looked like he had decided to postpone further questions and play along for now.

“The first thing that went through my head was ‘Wow, that must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen’,” he said, looking at Cassia with a warm smile. “Still true by the way.” At the playful wink he sent her, Cassia couldn't help herself from smiling right back.

“Lovely,” Varric muttered, busy taking notes. “And you, Frosty?”

She wondered briefly if she should come up with something more flowery, but in the end, she only shrugged as she decided to go with the truth. “I think my first thought was something about him being much younger than everyone else in the tavern. Oh and tall.”

Varric looked up from his notes. “So, on the one side, we have incredible beauty, and on the other, well, tall and not old…” He let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to work with this?” he muttered.

Cullen just chuckled, putting an arm around Cassia as he gave her a fond look. “If you were expecting to get something poetic and overly romantic from Cassia, you might as well give up.” There was no malice behind his words. Over the years they had known each other, Cullen had learned quickly that the woman he loved wasn’t one for exuberant love declarations or overly romantic procedures. Despite being the most eloquent person he knew, Cassia rarely spoke about her innermost feelings, preferring to show her affection, her love in other ways.

“Don’t I know it,” Varric muttered, his eyes not leaving his notes. “You know how long I’ve been trying to get a usable quote from her about your relationship that doesn’t sound incredibly boring?”

Cassia’s eyebrows rose up. “What do you mean? I love Cullen, I’ve said so plenty of times before!”

“As I said - boring,” Varric countered, still without looking up. “Can’t you be a little bit more exuberant? Andraste’s tits, you should see the pages I have of him waxing about your eyes or the sound of your voice or even the way you scrunch your nose when playing the lute…”

When no immediate answer came, Varric finally looked up, only to be greeted by a very confused Cassia looking back and forth between him and a by now slightly embarrassed Cullen.

“What,” Varric snapped. “The man knows how to express his feelings when given the appropriate amount of alcohol.” He shook his head again. “No, this won’t do! I need something more substantial. Something…” Suddenly, he lit up. “Oh, I know! Fenris said something a while ago. Telling me I should ask you about the pond incident? Tell me about that!”

Cassia felt the heat of an embarrassed flush on her face.

“The pond incident?” Cullen chuckled. “I doubt that will help you with whatever you need this for. We barely knew each other and it had nothing to do with us.”

At his words, Varric’s smile turned into a wide grin. “According to a certain broody elf, it had everything to do with the two of you! But he was very tipsy when he told me, so I am hoping for more juicy details directly from the source!”

“I have no idea what he could have meant,” Cassia, having found some semblance of calm again, said nonchalantly. “It was a simple accident, and I barely even knew Cullen back then. He wasn’t even there!”

“You know Frosty, you are an excellent liar, and I would absolutely believe you if Broody hadn’t spilled the beans already,” Varric said with such confidence that Cassia felt the urge to strangle her best friend at the next opportunity well up in her.

“I’ll have you know that I am going to kill Fenris and that absolutely nothing he has told you is even remotely true!” she huffed as she crossed her arms in front of her, sending Varric a determined look.

Cullen had curiosity written all over his face. “Now I really want to know what this is about.”

“Well,” Varric said with a grin, “you are in luck then, and you are probably going to enjoy this!”

“Varric…” Cassia started but the dwarf simply ignored her, talking to Cullen like she wasn’t even in the room.

“So, there our heroine was, on her way to do a templars bidding after just having found her mystery man from the unforgettable night in the tavern again.”

Cassa groaned at his word, closing her eyes and only barely resisting the urge to hide her face behind her hands as Varric went on.

“A meeting that had shaken her to her core, for it was no less than half an hour later that she found herself so distracted by thoughts of the handsome man that was now no longer a stranger from the tavern to her, that she paid no mind to where she was walking.”

“Wait,” Cullen interrupted, “you fell into that pond because you were busy thinking about me?” Amusement and disbelief colored his voice and Cassia opened her eyes only to sigh.

“Well… kind of? I was so excited, and worried of course, but mostly excited and I…” she trailed off, her cheeks flaming red by now.

“She was busy planning on how to get you to kiss her again!” Varric had no qualms about finishing her sentence for her. Nor had he any about embarrassing her further. “That is until she suddenly found herself in a pond surrounded by slightly agitated ducks.”

“Why are you even here?” Cassia groaned at Varric before letting her head fall onto her arms on the table in front of her.

Varric grinned again. “Well, as your best dwarf…”

“There is no such thing!“ Cassia mumbled from underneath her hair.

“As your best dwarf,” Varric said again, a little more forceful this time, “it is my duty to blow everyone out of the water with my wedding toast of course. Pun intended.”

Cullen meanwhile seemed to be unbothered by his fiancée's embarrassment. A wide smile was on his face. “You really walked into that pond because of me?”

“You sound far too happy about that!” Cassia said, still not willing to look at anyone in the room.

“It gets better,” Varric added. “Apparently that pond was really close to her uncle’s house, but instead of going home to change, she rather walked around the city in wet clothes. That’s how distracted she was!”

He sounded so satisfied with himself that Cassia looked up to send him a harsh glare. Unwilling to let his words stand, she sat up straight again.

“Not true! I was very aware of how close home was, I just wanted to…” She let out a sigh, resigning herself to staying in her embarrassed state as she looked at Cullen again. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible, so I could see you again.”

“I was more than happy that you came back the same day.” The look that Cullen gave her was so warm that Cassia smiled again. “But wait,” he added. “You wore different clothes when you came back later.”

Cassia shrugged. “Well, one of the market stalls I passed on my way to the Gallows had a mirror, and I was the spitting image of a half-drowned mabari, and I kind of wanted to make sure you were also happy to see me again, so I ran home to change after all, in the end.”

For a moment, they were just looking at each other, the last hints of her embarrassment fading away under the look of pure love she could see in Cullen’s eyes.

“Wonderful, so this actually happened just the way Broody said it did? Finally something I can use!” Varric’s voice drew Cassia’s attention away from her husband-to-be.

“Are you seriously planning on putting that into your speech?” she asked, a weary look on her face.

“Stories need to be told, Frosty. I don’t make the rules!”

“I’m pretty sure you make up the rules all the time,” Cassia muttered under her breath.

Varric gave her a shit-eating grin before looking at his notes once more. “So, it was pretty much love at first sight, right?”

“No.” The answer came from both Cassia and Cullen at the same time, making Varric to be the one with the slightly confused look on his face for once.

“No? Are you seriously trying to tell me you weren’t head over heels for each other from the very beginning?”

“On this we’ve always been of one mind,” Cullen said with a smile, and Cassia nodded.

“It was definitely infatuation at first sight, no doubt,” she said softly, “but love…”

At Varric’s still questioning look, Cullen continued, “I don’t think that you can truly love a person without knowing them. Ant we didn’t. Not at that point at least.”

“Not really,” Cassia agreed. “I also think that, for me at least, love is not something that just happens to you, you know? Infatuation does. Lust does. But love is more than that.” Her eyes were set on Cullen’s as she spoke, “It is something you commit to and that you decide on. Something that you make happen.”

“And we did,” Cullen added, his arm around her tightening ever so slightly. “We ‘fell in love’ the moment we decided to do this together, despite the obstacles.”

Cassia felt her heart beat just the tiniest bit faster at his touch, smiling at the thought that something as simple as a casual touch from him still had the same effect on her now as it had back then.

“And we haven’t stopped falling since that day,” she added with a smile.

“Praise Andraste and her dog!”

Varric’s loud exclamation tore both Cullen and Cassia out of their mutual moment of tenderness.

“I was beginning to think I’d never get enough out of you to do this right, but this? This is definitely something I can work with! The final touch to the chapter… uh, the speech I mean!”

Before Cassia could say anything, the door opened, and Adriene hurried inside.

“Sorry I’m late,” her sister apologized, letting herself fall down onto a chair. At the sight of her, Varric closed his notebook with a flourished move.

“And that is my cue to leave! Curly, Hawkes… have a great evening!” Without further ado, he stood up.

“Ah, Varric, don’t say you can’t stay for dinner, and after I just got here!” Adriene smiled widely at him, but he only shook his head.

“You know me, books don’t write themselves!” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Books don’t write themselves?” Cassia narrowed her eyes at him.

He only grinned again. “Incidentally, neither do speeches!” And with that, he was out of the door, clearly unwilling to let anyone catch up with him.

“What was that all about?” Adriene asked a moment later, and Cassia only sighed.

“Don’t ask! I am slightly afraid thinking too closely about it.”

Her sister put on a disappointed look. “Och, damn it, I am late one time, and I apparently missed something!”

“Trust me, you didn’t miss much,” Cassia mumbled while getting up to start getting their dinner going.

“Actually,” Cullen objected, the wide smile on his face giving Cassia pause, “you missed a rather wonderful story about your sister that I believe you would definitely want to know!”

Cassia froze.

“Cullen,” she pleaded, “Don’t do this to me! Isn’t it enough that you know?”

Adriene had noticeably perked up at these words. “Oh, this sounds good already! Tell me! You’ll be my favourite brother-in-law!”

“I’m the only brother-in-law you have,” Cullen said in a dry tone, and Adriene waved her hand in a dismissive motion.

“Pah, details! Tell me anyway, you might not remain my only brother-in-law after all, better to get a headstart now!”

A small throw-pillow suddenly flew through the air, hitting Cullen straight in his face.

“I am warning you!” Cassia’s voice sounded sharp, but there was no real heat behind it.

Adriene just chuckled as she shuffled her chair in between her sister and Cullen. “Don’t be threatened into silence, I will protect you from the flying threats, now go and tell me the story, before Cass finds something more substantial to throw!”

There was a very satisfied look and a rather wide grin on his face. “So, do you remember that time your sister walked into a duck pond?” he started as Cassia slowly reached for another pillow, cursing the day when she had hoped those two would get along.

#Kunstpause writes stuff #Dragon age Fanfiction #DA2 #Hawke x Cullen #cullen rutherford #OC: Cassia Hawke

16 notes · View notes

caffeineivore · 5 years ago

Text

Commission #6, Belatedly

For @d3fiant, who prompted R/J from an old ficverse.

Holly isn’t in this business for the ill-gotten means, as it were, he’s sure of it.

Of course, it’s not her real name, but then again, none of the women that Jack has come across in the last two years since the beginning of his acquaintance and association with D use their real names. Men in their world still have an easier time of it-- most bystander witnesses would not remember the likes of Noel, for example, beyond hulking shoulders rippling with tattoos, or Konstantin beyond polished but nondescript businessman with watchful eyes and a three-piece suit. Holly, on the other hand, has a face which could grace the covers of glossy magazines and a voice to match the black satin of her hair. He’d been able to pick her out from across a crowded room the minute he’d met her.

He wonders if D has an affinity for herbology of some sort -- certainly, the aliases of his female associates are various types of flora-- all innocuous but deadly. Holly. Jessamine. Daphne. Belladonna. He’s not paid to wonder about it, or about Holly’s origins and habits and what makes her tick and what makes her smile, but a man convalescing from a gunshot wound is a man with nothing but time and his mind for company. Holly, certainly, does not bother to visit more than the bare minimum. Sensible girl.

She brings him his meals, though, three times a day. He is almost certain that wherever she’d brought him is not one of the usual safe houses-- his room locks from the outside and he is both too weak and too smart to attempt to explore outside the confines of the four walls. There is a shelf full of books for his entertainment as he recovers-- ranging from leather-bound classics to trashy paperback sci-fi novels to a good year’s worth of subscriptions to various magazines both pithy and frivolous-- Time. National Geographic. Better Homes and Gardens. Vogue. Us Weekly. The furniture is elegant and tasteful, running towards graceful antiques rather than the sleek and modern, but for all that, there’s no coziness to the room. The hermetically sealed window-- storm-paned glass-- looks out to a well-manicured expanse of yard featuring velvety lawns and neat beds of stately, formal flowers-- two banks of rose bushes, red and white, line up with the precision of soldiers, bordered by neat green hedges. The yard is completely bordered by tall, upright poplars, shielding it from view of prying eyes. It’s certainly too nicely-appointed of a property for the likes of the average safe house, which in Jack’s experience has always been as deliberately nondescript as possible down to the dun-coloured siding and the mid-sized minivan generally kept parked in the driveway.

A clock-- one of those graceful silver-and-glass affairs with Roman numerals marking the hours-- ticks away at the top of the bookshelf, and just as the hour of noon, a key turns in the lock, and Holly walks in with a tray. She is always punctual on these thrice-daily visits: breakfast at eight, lunch at noon, dinner at six. Jack gives her his customary grin, which she does not return, and takes her in.

She’s wearing a cream-coloured silk blouse and a quiet knee-length skirt in dove-gray, with matching stilettos which are completely silenced by the plush of the carpet. No adornment aside from the ruby studs in her ears. Add in a leather handbag and perhaps a long coat in a neutral shade, and she’d blend in with any socialite out for lunch or shopping. He’d bet any money, though, that there’s a gun strapped to her leg under the skirt. She doesn’t know him any better than he knows her. And considering the last time he’d seen her wielding a Beretta 92 at a pursuing car’s tires, he’s well aware that she’s more than proficient with firearms.

“What’s for lunch, Jill?” His inquiry, as intended, earns him a thinly veiled glare. She doesn’t look like a ‘Jill’ either, but it’s fun to get a reaction out of her. She’s normally so controlled. She sets the tray down on the desk, in precisely the same spot as his breakfast tray from earlier had been.

“Grilled salmon and a whole wheat roll, with a spinach salad with blue cheese and cranberries on the side. Don’t call me Jill.” It’s always healthy, well-prepared food, and he thinks that it is perhaps the type of fare that she would eat. There’s a bottle of grapefruit juice to go along with his meal-- no wine, no beer. He has a mid-level craving for a greasy, juicy burger with everything but the kitchen sink piled into it and an icy, foamy lager, but he’d have to be somewhere other than this most well-appointed of prisons before he’d be able to indulge.

“You gonna join me for lunch for once, sweetheart? Just a quick meal between friends and associates. I won’t bite.”

“I have a lot of other commitments this afternoon, and you have a checkup.”

“Ah, yes. With the good doctor from the docks. You know, I do think she’s the only one of us who actually has no ulterior motives or hidden agendas. The only ‘good’ one, as it were. She didn’t even ask questions when you and Noel brought me in, did she? What a kind soul. What’s her name again?”

“Angelica. You seem to have a real problem remembering people’s names.” Holly doesn’t spare him a glance as she lays out a place setting-- complete with a snowy linen napkin and heavy silverware, arranged formally, and pours his grapefruit juice into a glass half-full of crushed ice. She definitely grew up in a household accustomed to formal meals, whatever she’s doing these days amusing herself by running recon or engaging in gunfights rather like some elegant version of a gun moll.

“I will try harder.” Jack tucks his tongue in his cheek and admires the way her legs look in that prim, narrow skirt. “So that’s a no on joining me for lunch, huh?”

“Noel will be over in an hour to take you to physical therapy. You need to fully recover from your wounds, and will be of very little use to D if that gunshot takes you out of the game.”

“It would be a damned shame, wouldn’t it?” Jack cuts into the tender pink flesh of the salmon with his knife and fork. “I suppose I’d have to live out the rest of my days in boring, civilian anonymity. Probably learn how to mow lawns and weed gardens. Your yard is very nice. Who takes care of it?”

“I have a gardener on staff, and contract a landscaping company that handles the heavy work.”

“So this is your home, then. I feel so honoured to be a guest.”

Perhaps she was not trying to tell him so much. Jack grins even as she scowls. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I know not to brag about our time together. Is it so wrong that since I am stuck here until I heal I try to get to know you better? I knew everything about everyone on my platoon, down to MacMillan’s allergies to cats and Patterson’s wife’s obsession with reality TV to Rosenberg’s fondness for gas station hostess cupcakes. We spent a lot of time together, often in close quarters, always with the same people. And besides, isn’t the point of being part of a team knowing and trusting your team members?”

“If you think that spouting off some corporate bullshit team-building synergy nonsense is going to persuade me, you are vastly mistaken. I’m not here to be your friend or your confidante. Just eat your lunch and get yourself ready to your physical therapy.” Holly, clearly at the end of her patience, tidies up the remnants of his last meal and drops his empty coffee cup onto the tray with an irritated clatter. “I have to deal with you when we are working together so as to not end up on the wrong side of a bullet. Outside of that, we’re not here to be buddy-buddy.”

She takes the tray and walks out of the room without a backward glance, and Jack listens to the sound of the lock turning in the door. He could, if he really wanted to, pick it with the tines of his dessert fork. Or smash through the window and rappel down the side of the house and take his chances. But it would be a pity on all levels-- at such an egregious breach of conduct, D would kill him, if Holly didn’t do so, first. And he’s almost certain if the day came that his life was forfeit to the syndicate, he’d deserve it, and never see it coming.

He finishes his meal-- it is expertly prepared and delicious, after all-- and goes over his mental notes about the beautiful, deadly enigma whose somewhat unwilling hospitality he is currently imposed upon. Holly looks to be perhaps in her late twenties, born into great wealth and privilege, and on their first meeting, had spoken flawless French like a native Parisian. But her English is definitely American, with traces of New England society in its haughtier moments. Her hands are elegant and manicured, but he’d seen her just as gracefully snap the neck of one of the goons who’d attempted to corner her in the deserted warehouse. She handles hand-to-hand with the cool, business-like attitude of someone viewing it as a necessary evil, competently and skillfully, but not with any particular relish. He can’t quite pinpoint where she’d been trained, but the style is distinctly Asian, with its graceful stances and lethal strikes and kicks. Every little tidbit of information he gleans brings with it more questions, more interest.

“You’re a hell of a woman, Jill.” Jack grins at nothing in particular and makes his way to the en-suite bathroom to wash up after his meal. There, too, no expense is spared-- the towels are plush, the fixtures pristine, and the soap and shampoo smell pleasantly of cloves and sandalwood. He is given a razor to shave every morning, but it’s always gone out of the bathroom by breakfast-- taken out with his dinner tray and the hamper of clothing. She trusts him enough, perhaps, to keep him in her home rather than a safe-house, but not enough to leave completely to his own devices. Perhaps she wonders about his background and motives like he does about hers.

Noel knocks on the door before unlocking it, right on time. The big guy is a lot less mysterious than Holly is-- Jack already knows the gist of his background. Former Irish mob, a bare-knuckle brawler with the big arms and shoulders to prove it. He’d seen Noel hot-wire a car on one occasion in all of seventy-five seconds, and also seen those big bruiser’s hands, skillful and gentle as a maiden aunt’s, fiddling with wires and microphones to bug an opponent’s office after they’d broken in. Noel doesn’t try to hide the Boston in his accent, or indeed the Galway when he’s particularly riled up. He’s been in D’s employ for two years longer than Jack has, and simply refers to the kingpin as “Boss man”. Quite efficiently, Noel wheels him down the hall, then into an actual elevator. He’s brought outside into a van bearing the name and logo of a dry cleaner’s and efficiently strapped in. Noel takes a circuitous route through town-- not that Jack can see anything from the back-- but at least deigns to play music during the drive. It’s unapologetic, kick-ass hard rock heavy on the guitar and drums, precisely the type of music that does not invite or facilitate conversation.

By the time the van’s doors are opened again, Jack is far, far away from the polished, glossy neighbourhood of Holly’s residence. Garbage-laden alleys and derelict buildings dot these tenements with urban blight, and the industrial building they’re parked in front of is pock-marked with graffiti and rust stains on the concrete walls. To get in, Noel has to swipe a keycard, then punch in a code. They wheel down a straight hallway bright with fluorescent lighting and Noel unlocks the next set of doors with two different keys. The clinic that Dr. Angelica runs, though, despite its singular location, is clean as a whistle, equipped with state-of-the-art technology. She meets them at the door, a petite, pretty woman with sad blue eyes and a wistful smile, and turns her attention to Jack.

“You’re looking well. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better than when I’d gotten shot, that’s for sure.” The bullet had hit him in the leg through the door of their escape vehicle, and Holly had taken control of the wheel from the passenger side even as he’d slammed on the brakes, nearly causing a spin-out. In the tense seconds that followed, though, she’d managed to fire off three shots through the open passenger side window, taking out their pursuer’s two front tires and the windshield. That car had rammed into a wall head-on, and she’d managed to keep him awake and alert for long enough for backup to arrive. He’d woken up, briefly, in this same clinic, groggy on meds, with Angelica patiently stitching him up. She’d taken the time to explain that he’d caught a bullet in the leg and was very fortunate that it had not nicked his femoral artery, but it would be awhile before he could be up and running again. He’d taken it as a matter of course-- really, if one were to think of it, he’d been fired at with a lot deadlier weapons back in the day with his platoon in war zones. A 9 millimeter in the leg from a gang member’s Glock could have been a land mine, or a hail of bullets from an AK-47. Then she’d put him under again, and he’d woken up in that room in Holly’s house some days later, disoriented but safe enough. A week and a half later, Holly still lets herself get annoyed with him whenever he teases her, and a small part of him finds that gratifying.

“I don’t have to explain how lucky you are, of course. With your background, I’m sure that you know. But with the right therapy and exercise, I don’t see why you wouldn’t make almost a full recovery in good time.” Angelica tells him after running some tests. “You are quite healthy otherwise, and you neither lost a lot of blood or received any extensive bone and tissue damage. A clean through-and-through, as we say. It certainly could have been a lot worse.”

“I could be floating facedown in the river, yeah,” Jack says drily. “How long are we talking, Doc?”

“For someone of your size and health, you can be up with crutches as soon as two weeks from now. If you maintain a healthy regimen of light but steady exercise on that leg, you should gain full mobility in another month after that.”

“Do you really think Holly will put up with me for that long?” Jack asks drolly. He isn’t quite sure how well the good Dr. Angelica knows Holly, but certainly the doctor knows enough of the syndicate’s business to not only ask no questions when he’d been brought in, but set up a whole secret clinic in the slums that runs as well as a trauma center in a major hospital. He’d heard of the Doc in the docks since he’d started, but until now, had never had occasion to meet her. “You know Holly, right? Black hair, red lipstick, very hot, keeps a Beretta on her at all times? She can’t stand me.”

Angelica’s lips twist into a faint smile. “If you say so. I know her of old. We roomed together freshman year at Yale. She’ll find a way to tolerate your company for as long as needed, I’m sure.”

Yet another tidbit of information about his elusive, fiery partner-of-sorts falls into his lap. It’s almost more exciting than the prospect of crutches in the next two weeks. Jack lets Angelica poke and prod some more, answers questions by rote, and counts down the hours until he can see her again.

#R/J #senshi/shitennou #sailor moon #fanfiction #fanfic #commission

9 notes · View notes